


connect the dots and draw a different picture up

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: What do you say, is this the time for one more try at a happy life? [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Alternate Universe - Retail, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Autistic Character, Awesome Dad Mike Peterson, Bad Flirting, Biological Family, Cats, Costumes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancer Natasha Romanov, Deaf Clint Barton, Dogs, Drunken Shenanigans, Every Girl Likes Girls, Everyone Loves Kara Palamas, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Female Friendship, Femslash, Filming, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Gift Exchange, Girls' Night, Gossip, Group Therapy, Hanukkah, Healthy Relationships, Horseback Riding, Hydra Grant Ward, Injury, Interracial Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Male-Female Friendship, Midnight Showings, Misandry, New Year's Eve, Obviously Awful Racism, Oh No A Nazi, Paintball, Poor Life Choices, Pregnancy, Questionable Kink, Relationship Negotiation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Revenge, Roller Derby, Shopping Malls, Social Commentary, Trauma Recovery, Vacation, Video & Computer Games, Violence, Weddings, girls protecting girls, trivia night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 184
Words: 650,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a (usually) much more lighthearted universe, everyone works at the world's most interconnected shopping mall.</p><p>This week: Val brings Sif and Melinda out to meet her horse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. paint it with the colors of everything I ever was

**Author's Note:**

> As it often goes, a series of random ideas and circumstances started us thinking. Over the course of several weeks, we concocted a cheerful AU where most of the main players of the MCU all work in the same mall. Because they deserve a place where the worst thing that ever happens to them is a long day at work.
> 
> This first story serves to set up the characters; they will all feature in future stories. Most of them are post-college/mid-twenties, excepting FitzSimmons, Skye, and Darcy, who are college age, and the older SHIELD people, who average 10-15 years younger. Fury is still old as balls.

“I just really don't understand why I'm here, I mean that keyboard was a perfectly reasonable price.  A thousand bucks for a CUSTOMIZABLE KEYBOARD, c'mon, Rhodey, you can't tell me you'd pass that up!”

It’s not as bad as, say, a toddler throwing a fit as their parent drags them through the mall, but it’s not exactly quiet or hard to miss.  Pepper can’t help but glance up from the Margaret Atwood book she’s reading but once she does, she knows she can’t leave poor Rhodey to that.

So she closes the book, grabs her coffee, and approaches her apparently-harangued friend.  “What’s the issue here?” she asks, using her smoothing-it-over customer service voice.

“I was just escorting His Highness here over to his job training session at Sharper Images,” says Rhodey, sarcastic as ever.  The man who had been so loud has crossed his hands over his chest and is now pouting - maybe the toddler comparison hadn’t been that off after all.  Of course Pepper recognizes him; she’d have to be utterly oblivious not to.  Tony Stark’s face has been periodically featured on the local news for as long as she’s lived here, since everyone loves to watch spoiled rich children’s illegal escapades.  She’s even fitted him for a suit or two in the past, and while the bragging rights were nice, they hardly made up for the hours she’d spent dealing with this adult child.  And now here he was again.  For a job training session?

Tony must have caught the quizzical look on her face, because he’s off again, talking so fast that she can hardly keep up.  “Apparently I’m here to, what was it?  Learn the value of a well-earned dollar?  I think those were Dad’s words.  Rhodey, you probably remember the lecture better than I do, I was busy calculating how long it would take me to rig the sprinkler in front of Dad’s room so it’ll go off every morning when he leaves.  He’s pissy because I don’t do a damn thing to ‘contribute to the family’ which, I’d like to see him program anything close to JARVIS, and what thanks do I get for that?  None at all.  You’re welcome for making your daily life easier, Dad.  I’m sorry the thousand-dollar customizable keyboard wasn’t even more on sale!”

“When does your training session start?” Pepper asks, trying not to let how overwhelmed she is by his tangent show on her face.

“One,” says Rhodey, while Tony goes back to sulking.

Pepper checks her watch and stifles a sigh.  “That gives us enough time for a tour,” she offers, raising her eyebrows in a way that she hopes Rhodey will understand to mean maybe feeling like part of the gang will help mellow him out somehow, even though she assumes that’s wishful thinking.

Rhodey laughs a bit, and nods.  “All right, this way, your highness,” he says, and all Tony does to respond to the nickname is look mildly miffed.  Rhodey ignores him, and points to the bakery that’s marked in jaunty wobbling letters as Corner Bakery Cafe.  “Over there is where you can get the best cookies ever, the end.  It’s a chain but that doesn’t even matter, it’s so damn good.  Volstagg probably puts something magic in them.”

“That’s not a corner,” is Tony’s only comment.  Which, it’s not, it’s sandwiched between a Sbarro’s and a McDonald’s, and Pepper’s always thought the name was a bit silly.

But it’s not worth commenting on, really, so instead she turns her attention to the opposite side of the food court, pointing and nodding and switching to her all-business voice.  “Over there at MaggieMoo’s, see the girl working?”

“Yes,” Tony says, like it’s obvious.  (It is.  Why wouldn’t he see her?)

“That’s Jemma,” Pepper continues.  “She will mix up the weirdest, most delicious ice cream cone for you, but you are under no circumstances allowed to even think about flirting with her.  Understand?”

“I don’t know where this accusation’s coming from,” replies Tony, “I didn’t hit on you and you’re, well, you’re not quite my type but you’re nothing to sneeze at, definitely.  She’s not really my type either.  Being honest, I tend to prefer blondes.  I am a gentleman.”

Pepper rolls her eyes.  Of course that’s his reaction.  “I’m still issuing the warning,” she says.   From what she knows, Tony Stark is the sort to flirt with anyone and anything if the mood strikes, and besides.  “Don’t hit on Jemma Simmons” is basically a rule around here.

Rhodey’s watched the entire exchange with an amused expression, and once they’ve stopped he gestures for Tony to follow him out of the food court.  Pepper joins them; hell, she doesn’t have anything better to do.

Rhodey takes a left out of the food court, gesturing to the Sephora that’s located just outside.  “Bucky works there.  He, uh...well, ask Steve and Natasha about Bucky if you get curious.”

“We’ll point them out in a minute,” Pepper adds, hurrying them along before Tony starts asking too many more questions (he’s got a look on his face like he might).

“Teavana next to that, if you feel like paying entirely too much for fancy teas.”  Rhodey says this so sarcastically that Pepper laughs, both at the entirely-true comment and at the mental image of this spoiled playboy drinking tea.  He practically sweats coffee.  “And next door, the hipster mecca,” he says, indicating a slightly out-of-place-looking bookstore called Pages.  “Ian works there, and they have a pretty decent tech section actually.  If you ever feel like deigning to set foot there.”  He grins.

“And across the way is our Big 5 Sporting Goods,” Pepper takes over.  “That’s Sif and Melinda in there.  Neither of them will take any shit, but Sif will be cooler about it.”

“Now, pay attention to this next part, it’ll be relevant to your dumb ass.  That’s the security office there.”  Rhodey points across the way, where a nondescript grey front has only a no-nonsnse sign reading SECURITY on its door to give any hint as to its purpose.  “Nick Fury is the head, but he’s not usually out on the floor.  Officers Coulson and Hill are.  Hill’s not too bad, she used to be a real cop but then she got hurt and had to retire, so she doesn’t blow things too out of proportion.  But Coulson…”

“Coulson takes his job very seriously,” Pepper declares, letting that sink in for a moment before she smirks and adds, “that’s why his forehead is so big.  It’s full of secrets.”

“Oh my god, was that a _Mean Girls_ reference?  Marry me.”  Tony looks entirely serious for a moment.

Pepper raises an eyebrow, looking mildly amused.  “Anyway, let’s take the tour downstairs,” she declares, heading in the direction of the escalator and expecting the boys to follow.

Once they reach the bottom of the escalator, the first thing Pepper sees is Steve and Natasha in the Gap windows, arranging the display.  Steve is adjusting the clothes on the mannequins and Natasha is hanging an obnoxiously brightly colored sign.  Steve sees them first and waves, smiling in his familiar all-American way.  Natasha’s smile is subtler, more of a smirk really, but she doesn’t look unhappy to see them, anyway.

“Hey, you two,” Pepper greets them, nodding amiably before gesturing to the newcomer.  “This is Tony.  He’s going to be working at Sharper Image.”

“Hi, Tony!” Steve grins and waves.  Natasha, unsurprisingly, just looks him over, not unlike a feral cat sizing up a possible threat.  Tony nudges Rhodey and mutters, “Okay, I lied earlier.  I’m totally into redheads.”

Of course Pepper hears that, but like hell she’ll say anything.  Besides, she knows that if Natasha heard herself and was bothered, she would take care of the situation herself.  Instead, she waves goodbye and leads the others to the left.

“Over in the Sunglass Hut is Heimdall, he keeps an eye on everything that happens around here,” she declares.  “Bath and Body Works, Claire’s, the art store… ah.”  She pauses toward the end of the corridor and smirks.  “And there’s Hot Topic.”

“The original goth boy works there,” chimes in Rhodey.  “Loki.  He’s a real basket case, daddy issues out the ass.  Thinks he’s gonna rule the world someday.  Basically, if you don’t have to talk to him, don’t.  Word is, he went to one of those...special high schools.”

“Special like how? Like, gifted and talented special? I went to one of those, you know,” says Tony. “And I’m totally gonna rule the world someday, so maybe he and I could find some common ground. Y’know, co-rulership.”

“Maybe ‘alternative’ would be a better word,” Pepper frets, equally terrified by Tony’s ego and by the thought of a world where Tony and Loki could get along for long enough to co-rule anything.  (That isn’t this world, or any other one that makes logical sense, but it’s still a frightening thought.)

Tony looks only mildly disappointed.  “Fine.  I’ll just have to settle for being the smartest person in the building, again.”

“Glad to know your ego’s intact,” Rhodey snarks.

“The hair salon is in the corner there,” Pepper continues, “Kohl’s, David’s Bridal, Fuego, just your usual collection of stores.  Fuego is where you’ll find Clint, he’s all right.”

Rhodey shrugs.  “Kind of an enigma.  Nice enough, but probably a secret agent or something.  Keeps to himself.  RadioShack’s over there, and...oh.”  He says this as they all turn to look at Victoria’s Secret, where an ethereal-looking redheaded woman is hanging about the entrance.  Seeming to feel the eyes on her, she smiles enticingly at them and makes blatant bedroom eyes at Tony.

“NO!” says Rhodey, losing his cool for the first time as he grabs Tony’s arm to keep him from walking over to her.  “I know you like redheads, man, but Lorelei is bad news, seriously.  That’s a no-fly zone!”

“How bad can she be?” Tony asks, because it’s not like Rhodey isn’t aware of some of his more… interesting former flames.

“You have to trust me on this.  Do not do that.”  Rhodey sounds more like he’s offering someone advice about how to navigate a battlefield than warning them away from a date, but Pepper knows how serious this is.

“Fine.”  Tony only drags the word out a little bit, sighing like a kid who’s been denied another hour of video games.

As if trying to distract him, Rhodey pulls him along, saying “And there’s middle-aged women’s clothing, and here’s a whole store full of science!  You like science, Tony.”

“You’re being patronizing,” says Tony, “but you’re right, I do like science.  Maybe more than redheads.  Or brunettes,” he adds, catching a glimpse of the short, nerdy-looking woman manning the inside of the store.

“That’s Jane,” Pepper says with a placid smile, “and across the foyer  we have the chocolate store on one side and the Disney Store, where Jane’s very tall ex-quarterback boyfriend Thor works, on the other.”

Tony, seeing the enormous Thor for himself (at the moment, engaged in a swordfight with two very enthusiastic children), swallows and nods.  “Point taken.”

“Over here, a bunch of useless stores, candles and phones and shit, and there’s Sharon in Charlotte Russe!”  Seeing him wave, the blonde woman inside smiles and waves back.  “Don’t hit on her either,” he adds, “she can hit a target from three hundred yards away.  And Darcy’s over there in FYE.”

“Can I hit on her?” asks Tony, clearly only partially serious.

“If you want,” Pepper shrugs.  “She’ll play along, as long as you’re not an asshole.”  

“GameStop and the arcade are down there,” Rhodey says.  “Sometimes they have tournaments, and Hogun kicks everyone’s ass but it’s a good time.  Do not go anywhere near the weed store though.  Raina’s nuts, and I mean nuts.”

“It’s not actually called the weed store, is it?  That seems remarkably unsubtle.”

“No, but…”  Pepper shrugs sheepishly in that way she only rarely  deigns to do.  “The thing is, nobody remembers the real name, because everyone knows exactly what it is.”

Tony nods.  “Ah.  Fair enough, duly noted.”

“That’s about it for down here. Back upstairs,” says Rhodey, herding Tony back towards the escalator.

Once they’ve arrived at the second floor once again, Pepper leads them back toward the center of the mall.  “Foot Locker, that’s where Hogun of the aforementioned gaming tournaments works, and across the way is Abercrombie and Fitch, where his good friend  Fandral works.  Fandral is the quintessential Abercrombie boy.  I think he actually modeled for them once or twice.”

“You don’t say?  I’m sure we’ve already seen each other in various states of undress then.”

Pepper blinks in confusion a few times, shakes her head, and presses on.  “Men’s Wearhouse, on that side, then on this side there’s Build-A-Bear, Mike’s in there and he’s kind of shy but really nice.  Then there’s candy and women’s clothes, oh, and the Apple Store.   Skye and Fitz are there; they’re nice kids, but don’t mess with them too much, please.  Skye’s got a mouth on her and Fitz will just get passive-aggressive.”

Tony makes an exaggerated face of dismay.  “Not passive-aggressive, oh no!”

“Yeah, but just wait.  His passive-aggression means shitty wi-fi for everyone until he gets an apology,” replies Rhodey.  Tony looks slightly chagrined, but only slightly.

“The last woman you’re not allowed to hit on, ever, is Victoria in the jewelry store,” Pepper declares, waving across the corridor.  “Victoria can kill you with her pinky.”

“Is that...literal?”  Tony looks slightly unsettled, which pleases Pepper.

“Bruce in the watch store is very nice, though,” she continues, altogether ignoring his question.  “You can get your souvenir knives and your board games right over there, and that, gentlemen, concludes our tour.  This is where I leave you.” With a nod at the Nordstrom entrance. “If you’ve got any more questions, I’m in designer women’s now with Maya, or if you’re downstairs, Trip’s in young men’s.  He’s very helpful too.”

As she walks away briskly, she hears Tony say, “Okay, but this isn’t really, like, an all-day gig, is it?  Because I got stuff to do that doesn’t involve being trapped in here all day.  I get bored if I’m stationary too long, I’m like a rat.  I gotta, y’know, solve mazes.  I don’t see anything even vaguely mazelike here.”


	2. oh, send your armies in of robbers and thieves to steal the state I'm in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki approaches Lorelei as a potential ally.

He glances around multiple times before slipping into the hot pink monstrosity of a store.  He’d never set foot near it under ordinary circumstances, but today he needs help.  Well, not _needs_ , he could take care of this himself, but this woman seems to be the only one in this miserable place who thinks even remotely like himself.  She could be useful.

Naturally, he stands out, a tall, gawky boy in a store filled with women’s undergarments, so she comes right over to him.  A lesser person would have been taken in by her beauty, or the way that she purrs “Hello” in a way that sounds like she wants to bed him right then and there.  Not him, but nevertheless he can admit her voice is captivating.

She’s been watching him, and not in the way that, say, every man who comes into the store to buy his girlfriend some lingerie watches _her_.  She’s not _interested_ in him, but she finds him very interesting.  “I expected you sooner,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him before turning her attention to a rack of citrus green bras.

“Yes, well.”  He refuses to let her throw him off guard.  “I came as soon as I could, I suppose.  I take it you saw my...encounter earlier?”

“I don’t know how I could have missed it,” she points out.  “It did get rather loud.”

“Not by my wishes,” he replies, sneering a bit to let her know that he noticed the innuendo she snuck in there and he is not amused by it.  “We have...a history, he and I.  I think he rather relishes the opportunity to confront me whenever he can.”

She glances at her (quite elegant, even to his untrained eye, but tasteful) watch.  “I’m off in five minutes,” she declares.  “Buy me lunch and you can tell me everything about it.”

He sighs.  “Is there no situation you won’t twist to your advantage?”

“Do you want my help or not?” she asks, voice gone low as if she cares about being overheard (she doesn’t entirely, but it’s fun to have secrets).

“I do, I suppose.”  He sighs again.  “Meet me in front of the food court when you’re done.  We’ll talk.”

So exactly eight minutes later (five more of work, one to find her way upstairs, two just because it’s also fun to keep him waiting) she appears, tossing her perfectly-curled red hair over her shoulder like she’s in a shampoo commercial.  “I’m feeling like Greek food,” she says, her tone making it clear that there’s not room for debate.

“Very well.”  Loki bows a bit, mockingly gesturing for her to walk in front of him.  She does, giving her order with her usual assertiveness, and once they have their food they sit down at one of the tables that’s farthest away from anyone else.  “So I gather you are just as fond of Ward as everyone else here,” he says, by way of starting the conversation.

“He’s a dick,” she says, punctuating it with a sip of her soda.  “And not the fun kind.”

Loki chuckles.  “That’s not a bad way of phrasing it.  I wouldn’t stoop to ally myself with most of the fools who work here, but you seem...stronger than them.  You think differently.  You have skills that could be useful.”

“I assume I know what you’re referring to,” Lorelei smirks, “and I’m intrigued.  What do you have in mind?  And _whyever_ are you so interested in whatever that is?  Nothing good comes from having a history with a boy like that.”

“Oh. I apologize if I have given you the wrong idea - we were never _involved_ in that way, you see.  I was merely one of the smaller, weaker victims to his reign of terror.  He seems unable to let go of the past.”

She sighs, shaking her head.  “More’s the pity.  The first part, I mean.”  And she lets that sit for a moment as she nibbles her gyro, rather relishing the way it might make him uncomfortable.  “But a reign of terror sounds awfully dramatic.”

“Perhaps not him, specifically, so much as his cronies,” Loki clarifies.  “He was part of an organization that...well, it made life quite difficult for you if you didn’t comply with their wishes, let’s say.  He seems to have had a difficult time adjusting to life without them.  Thus the display you saw earlier.” 

“Well, aren’t you being vague about it,” she croons.  “I don’t think there was a proper noun to be had in that thought.”

“Purposefully,” he says.  “But very well.  They...well, I suppose it could be referred to as a gang of sorts?  Not that they were anywhere near that well-organized, mind.  They were the junior league, perhaps.  A student teacher was a member of the larger organization and was...instrumental in the recruitment of certain weak-minded persons at the school to his cause.  Ward was one of them.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Lorelei exclaims.  “So some of the rumors are true.”

Loki chuckles.  “Some, yes.  They seem to enjoy it when those get out of hand.  Mind, Ward was never one of the cleverer ones.  He followed orders; his behavior towards me was extracurricular.”

“Poor baby,” Lorelei pouts, widening her eyes and blinking with comical sadness.  “You said ‘life without them,’ does that mean the nefarious gang has since disbanded?”

“Yes and no,” he says after a pause.  “I have no doubt that they still have a foothold in the politics of the school.  And no doubt there are students who have graduated, as it were, to the higher ranks.  But Ward was never particularly ambitious.  He never wanted to advance beyond being Garrett’s second.  Now he’s content to work at the IKEA across the street and recruit from its automatons.  As well, of course, as terrorizing teenagers and former victims,” he finishes in a falsely bright tone.

“Including you,” she deduces.  “You and all of those victims are having to pay for the fact that he’s stuck in the past.”

“Essentially.  So I’ve decided that he should suffer a similar fate.”  Loki smirks at her.  “I thought I might ask you to help, if you were inclined.”

“If I am, what can you offer me?” she asks.

He narrows his eyes.  “Amusement?  Satisfaction?  What sort of thing do you require?”

“That could do for now,” she replies coyly.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says wryly.  “Here’s a few things I had in mind…”


	3. I undress my mind and dare you to follow, paint a portrait of my mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glimpses into various attempts to woo Melinda May.

“So how was your weekend?”

Sif raises an eyebrow.  Melinda doesn’t generally exchange pleasantries with her, so this must mean she’s genuinely interested.  She tries not to get too excited about what that might mean and replies, “Thor and Fandral and I went rock climbing.  They overestimated themselves and underestimated me, as usual,” she adds, grinning.

“Oh?”

Melinda’s feeling really chatty today.  Sif continues, “Yes, Fandral managed to make it only 10 feet down the 50 foot wall we’d all climbed before he slipped.  Lucky he had the bungee cord to catch him, or he would’ve fallen right on his ass.  Honestly, I was a little disappointed, though I wouldn’t have wanted him to get hurt, of course.  But it serves him right.”

At the term “fallen right on his ass,” Sif swears she sees a smile dart across Melinda’s face.  That’s the equivalent of anyone else falling on the floor laughing, so, feeling bold, she decides to keep going.  “Thor made it farther down, but he slipped off halfway.  I plan on never letting them hear the end of it, especially since Fandral kept insisting that he was the best of the three of us.”

Nodding, Melinda smirks at her, and Sif has to physically stop herself from basking in the glow of the nonverbal compliment.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” says Melinda, clearly referring to Fandral.  It’s not like she knows him personally, but Sif knows all too well his reputation.  It’s no wonder Melinda’s aware of it too.

“How about you?”  She doesn’t _really_ expect an answer, but given how comparatively talkative Melinda is being, Sif figures there’s no reason not to at least try.

“I stayed in.  The usual.”  Melinda shrugs.

Well, Sif was expecting more of an answer than _that_ , but now she’s embarrassed for asking.  “Oh,” she says politely, and wracks her brain for other conversation topics.  It’s rare enough to get Melinda to discuss anything not involving work that she doesn’t want their conversation, seemingly one-sided as it is, to end yet.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and then Melinda, as if to apologize for the awkwardness, says “I was painting.”

That was definitely not the answer Sif was expecting.  “What were you...painting?” she asks, because it’s all she can think to say.

“Just my living room,” replies Melinda.  Before Sif can ask some other asinine question like what color paint she’s using, she’s saved by a customer, who comes in and heads for the hunting knives display.  “You’d better handle that,” says Melinda, not unkindly; they both know that of the two of them, Sif knows more about those knives.  She turns to go, thankful that she’s managed to not humiliate herself in front of Melinda today.

 

* * *

 

It’s his lunch break, and before he gets food for himself Phil has a very important mission.  Every day at exactly 12:24 PM he brings Melinda May a sandwich from the semi-gourmet shop that’s possibly the food court’s classiest establishment.  Today’s is an avocado BLT.  He clutches the bag in anticipation as he walks into the Big 5, glancing around in what he hopes is a nonchalant way for Melinda.

She’s finishing up with a customer over in the exercise equipment, so he waits patiently until she’s done before calling out, “Hi!”  It would be impossible for his voice to be shaking as much as he thinks it is, but with any luck Melinda won’t notice.

She spots him, and doesn’t exactly smile, but she looks as pleased to see him as she ever does and comes over.  “You’re always on time,” she says, smirking slightly.

“Punctuality is important to me,” he says, smiling.  He always feels a bit like a schoolboy around her, tripping over his own tongue.

“Thanks.”  She takes the sandwich from him and motions in the direction of the break room.  He follows along, sure he looks exactly like a puppy dog trailing after its owner but not really caring.

 

* * *

 

Maria’s doing her customary walk of the top floor when she sees Melinda heading out of her store.  “Hey!” she calls, smiling when Melinda looks over at her.  “You heading out?”

“Yeah.  Shift just ended.”

“Want me to walk you to the stairs?  I’ve got a great story.”

“Sure.”  Melinda smiles, just quirking up one side of her mouth, but that’s basically a grin, so Maria grins back.

They head for the door to the stairs, and Maria says, “So I got to tase some dumbass kid today.”

“Oh?”  Melinda sounds amused already.

“Yeah.  He thought he was clever, trying to steal a copy of _The Last of Us_ from GameStop.  Jasper caught him, but then the kid started arguing with him and shoving him around, so we got called.  You know Coulson, he started lecturing the kid, but it clearly didn’t work cause he tried to run.  I’m sure he wasn’t expecting me to jump him.”  Maria laughs.  Melinda chuckles too, and that makes Maria even happier than she’d been seeing the shocked look on the kid’s face right before she hit him with a shock of electricity.

“Sounds like fun,” says Melinda.  “I’m a bit envious.”

“Yeah, it kinda was,” Maria admits.  They’ve almost reached the stairs, so before she can lose her nerve she adds, “So...on Saturday night I’ve got an extra ticket for a Grace Potter show, do you wanna come with?”

Melinda thinks about it for a second, and then she nods.  “Sure. I’d like that.”

Maria tries not to show how excited this makes her.  “Great.  I’ll text you my address later this week.  You can leave your car at my place and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good.”  Melinda gives her a half-wave as she opens the stairwell door.  “Later, Hill.”

“Later,” Maria calls back, waiting until the door is closed and her back is turned before ducking her head to hide the giant idiotic smile on her face.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god,” Darcy whispers, nudging Trip across the table.

“Hm?”  Trip glances in the direction she’s indicating, and it takes him a moment to realize that she’s trying to point out Officer Hill and Melinda May walking towards the stairwell together.  “Uh...not really seeing what you mean, Darce.”

“You mean you… haven’t noticed?” Darcy asks, raising an eyebrow at him.  “There’s basically a bisexual romcom going on right under our noses.”

Trip looks at her blankly.

“It’s like the olden days and Melinda May is the belle of the town with all the gentleman callers courting her,” Darcy continues.  “Except two of the three gentleman callers are women.”

“You are so weird,” says Trip, but he’s grinning.  “Okay, so who are the other two?  I have slightly more of a life than you and don’t stalk my fellow mall employees.”

“It’s not stalking,” she insists.  “It’s blatantly obvious.  One of them is her fucking gorgeous fellow sportswoman.  The other one is Officer Dad.”

Trip laughs.  “You mean Officer Coulson?”

“Of course I mean Officer Coulson,” she rolls her eyes.  “You have to admit it’s an apt title.”

“I guess,” says Trip, smiling despite himself.  “So how long have you been not-stalking this… situation?”

“I couldn’t put an exact date on it,” Darcy shrugs, “because like you just noticed, not stalking, but a good few months at least.”

After taking a sip from his drink, Trip widens his eyes.  “Damn.  That’s a while.  You have a favorite?”  He feels a little silly indulging Darcy in this, but, well, against his better judgment he’s interested.

“I have a favorite just out of the three of them as people,” she says.  “But it’s hard to tell what the hell Melinda’s thinking or how she’s reacting, so it’s hard to guess who’s the most likely.  There might be a wager, though.”

“Oh, that’s not creepy at all.”

“It’s out of affection!” she exclaims, mock-offended.

Trip grins and rolls his eyes.  “Sure.”

Darcy lets a moment go by with that same contrite expression before she lowers her voice and gets decidedly more devilish.  “You wanna place a bet?” she whispers.

“Really?  You’re _really_ asking me that question?  Right after I just got done calling you creepy?”

“Creepy could be a term of affection too,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“I can’t believe you sometimes, girl,” he says, shaking his head.

But about two weeks later, he slips her a $10 bill with a post it note stuck to it that just says “Officer Dad.”


	4. I'm not an open book that you can rifle through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is coy on purpose; Steve is determined to figure out her secret. Sam is a neutral third party who knows better than to push her.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asks as he sits down at the break room table, bottled water in hand.

Natasha’s gritting her teeth and clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles are turning white.  “Kids.  I don’t like kids.”

“Aw,” he says, making a face that’s something between a sympathetic frown and a grimace.  “What’s the matter with kids?”

“Nothing.  As long as they stay far, far away from me.”

He sighs, takes a swig from his water bottle.  “What happened this time?”

“Just a general infestation of children,” she growls.  “I try to look as off-putting as possible, I don’t know why they insist on following me around when their incompetent parent lets them roam free.  I also think that every parent in the area got the idea to inject their kid with pure sugar today, because I can’t think of another reason why there were so many of them running around and screaming and throwing fits.  All near me, of course.”

“You’re exaggerating,” he declares.  “Some of them can be… something else, but plenty of the kids I saw were being polite.  One little guy even told his brother off for knocking a hanger off the rack.”

She sighs, relaxing a little.  “I just really dislike back-to-school sales.  Children make me… very uncomfortable.”

Steve nods as understandingly as he can (it’s not a problem he’s ever had, he doesn’t mind kids at all, but he’s trying to be helpful).  “It should let up soon,” he offers.

“Not soon enough,” she replies.  “But thanks, I know you’re trying.”

“How late are you working today?” he asks.

“Six, then I have to leave for rehearsal.”

“Ah,” he says, regarding her as if searching for clues.  “Your mystery… endeavor.”

Snorting, she says, “Steve, no one uses the word ‘endeavor’ in casual conversation.”

“Then I’m breaking new ground,” he declares, giving her that silly, self-satisfied and yet humble smile of his.

She rolls her eyes and grins.  “Good luck with that, old man.”

“I’m only a year older than you, Natasha,” he points out, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands.  “And you’re diverting.”

“Am I?” she asks, the picture of innocence suddenly.

“If you really don’t want to tell me, I’m not going to be offended,” Steve begins, letting that sink in before he continues.  “But I’m asking as a friend.”

“Asking what?”  Again with the innocent face.

“Am I ever going to find out what it is you’re cutting out of here to rehearse?”

“It’s dance rehearsal.  I’m a dancer.  Ballet, to be more specific.”  She knows she’s being obnoxious, and kind of reveling in it.

He takes a moment to consider this, but before he has a chance to continue, they’re joined by Sam, who’s one of the Gap’s newest employees as well as Steve's running partner and has become fast friends with both of them.

“Hey guys!” he says, grinning.  “Steve, are you trying to get Natasha to tell you her secrets again?  You know that never works.  Girl’s stubborn.  You can’t push her.”

Natasha laughs.  “Thanks, Sam.”

“I just want to support my friends,” Steve insists.  “That’s all!”

“That’s sweet.  You still don’t get to know.”  Natasha smirks at him.

He spends the whole rest of the week giving her sad looks until finally she snaps, “Oh my god, stop looking at me like a disappointed dad, fine, I’ll tell you.  It’s the Midwest Ballet Company.  Happy now?”  He’d never admit it, but he is.

He’s even happier when he looks in his locker after his shift is over and finds a flyer advertising the Midwest Ballet Company’s upcoming production of _The Firebird._

Sam gets one, too.  “I’ll be damned,” he says, smiling.  “You actually wore her down with that sad puppy face of yours.”

“I’d like to chalk it up to my all-American charm, thank you,” Steve replies, not without a certain hint of smugness.

“Yeah, sure.  You’ve got that in spades.  So, I’m assuming we’re going to this to embarrass the hell out of her with how much we cheer, right?”

“Sam,” Steve rolls his eyes, drawing the syllable out, “it’s the ballet.  You don’t cheer.”

“Much.”  Sam grins mischievously.  “We’ll cheer the maximum acceptable amount.  And bring her a shitton of flowers.”

“We’ll have to find out if there are any that she’s allergic to,” Steve points out.

Sam chuckles.  “Natasha?  Allergic?  More like flowers are allergic to her.”

“We should still check somehow,” Steve insists.

As Sam suspected, Natasha is allergic to nothing.  The amount of effort they have to go through to obtain that information is more proportionate to the President’s medical records than a Gap employee-slash-ballerina’s.  But eventually, they manage it.


	5. you storm me when you come and go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Fitz continue an ongoing debate, and Skye takes Jemma's visit as an opportunity to flirt.

“Work, you piece of shit. _Work!_ Listen to me!”

“Ah yes, yelling and swearing will definitely accomplish whatever you’re trying to do,” calls Fitz, smirking from the other end of the store where he’s rearranging the iPod accessories.

Skye glares at him before turning back to the laptop in front of her. “I’m just trying to run freaking Office without it flashing the beach ball at me every two minutes, God!”

“And what exactly possessed you to start working at the Mac Store if you hate Macs so much?”

“There’s this little thing called tuition money. I need it. Principles only go so far, and it was that or making meth. Hell, I barely passed chemistry and I don’t have the money for half the shit you need, this was probably a better option anyway.” Skye rolls her eyes. “Excuse me if I don’t like my computer spelling everything out for me like I’m five and costing me twice as much as the ones that I can actually work with.”

Fitz chuckles. “Wall-E ran on Mac software, y’know. It’s clear who’ll be around after the apocalypse. It’s not your precious cheap, unreliable hardware.”

“That is the stupidest comeback I have ever heard. You know Pixar was just sucking up to Steve Jobs so he would give them money, right? Besides, I’ve dropped my laptop a dozen times and it’s survived every single one. You can’t do that with a Mac, they’re like eggs, they break on impact.”

“Lies. I’ve had friends who’ve had to replace their laptops multiple times in two years, whereas mine? Still good. Also, I could’ve sworn I heard you bitching about Windows 8 a couple months ago.”

“Yeah, okay, Windows 8 was shitty, but I’ve heard just as many people bitching about Mavericks. If you recall, they had to release a patch _just to make sure Mavericks wouldn’t crash the old MacBooks._ If you ask me, that’s _way_ worse than taking away the Start menu.” These debates were nearly a daily habit between them, a way to pass the time when business was slow, and neither one really put much venom into their arguments.

Just then, Jemma comes practically skipping into the store, or at least walking in that spring-in-her-step sort of way that means it’s been a better day than usual, even.  “Hi, Fitz!” she exclaims, glancing around the store to make sure there aren’t customers she’ll be in the way of before she plants herself at the side of the shelf he’s currently attending to.

“Simmons, please tell Skye how wrong she is about Macs,” says Fitz, flashing her a quick smile before turning back to his work.

And Jemma just rolls her eyes.  “Everyone’s got a preference, I suppose,” she says, ever diplomatic.  “Or at least some people do.  I’m sure you both have your reasons.”

“And mine are better,” says Skye. She slipped out from behind the Genius Bar as soon as she heard Jemma’s voice and started slinking over to where she’d stopped by Fitz. Now she’s grinning at Jemma, her eyes bright. “Always nice to see you, Jemma.”

Jemma startles, laughing rather nervously.  (It’s her usual reaction where Skye’s concerned.)  “You, too,” she mumbles.

“You’re looking chipper. Good day at MaggieMoo’s?”

“Good enough,” Jemma manages to say.  “I’m stopping by because I just got off --”  And of course, she flushes immediately, makes to correct herself.  “My shift just ended, is all.  I’m heading home pretty quick, I was just wondering, ah, if Fitz, you want me to pick up anything on the way home?”

Fitz shakes his head. “Unless Griffith needs food or anything, we should be fine.”

“Griffith?” Skye looks confused. “Do you guys have a dog or something?”

“Oh, she’s a kitten,” Jemma corrects, smiling widely.  “Or, well, a cat, we think she’s a Russian Blue, maybe, three years old?  Give-take.  She just sort of adopted us, you see, and she was so precious, with her little paws and nose and all, and -- well, she was younger then so of course she was littler, but…”

A bit taken aback by the deluge of words, Skye blinks and hopes the shocked expression on her face isn’t too obvious. But she can’t deny that Jemma’s excitement is awfully cute. “Adorable,” she says, grinning. “I like seeing you all excited like this.”

Fitz makes a choking noise and Skye spins to glare at him, though Jemma seems to be too flustered to notice.

Instead, she waves a hand through the air, murmuring, “She’s named after a famous scientist, I mean, not exactly household name-famous but that would be a bit trite, and anyway, yes, I’ll stop talking now, that sounds like the wisest choice.”  She’s doubtlessly bright red, too.

“Aww, you don’t have to,” says Skye. “I like listening to you talk. It’s kind the highlight of my boring days, seeing you when you drop in.”

Jemma’s eyes are impossibly wide, she’s sure of it, and it wouldn’t shock her one bit to find out that the other two could hear her heart beating from where they stand.  “O-oh,” she manages to say, her smile turning rather nervous.  “I’m, I’m glad I can be that for you.” Of course, she’s wishing she hadn’t said _that_ , either, but it’s out now, at any rate.

Skye’s still smiling, but it’s a _little_ less mischievous. She doesn’t want to freak Jemma out too much, after all. “Yeah,” she continues, “you’re probably the most interesting person in this whole mall.” She ignores the offended yelp from Fitz.

“ _Please_ ,” Jemma exclaims, laughing.  “I don’t think you’ve met most of the people here, then!  I mean, Pepper’s outrageously classy, and Melinda and Sif, they’re such badasses, and Jane is so brilliant, and have you ever really spoken to Mike?  He’s the sweetest man. And _Victoria_ , I…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll mingle at my next break,” teases Skye. “Still. I’d be hard-pressed to find someone more interesting than you.”

“I’d be happy to, ah, mingle with you,” Jemma offers in a rush.  “Accompany you while you mingle.  You know.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. Lunch tomorrow? Or, well, when _is_ your lunch?”

“Sometime around two,” Jemma says before she can question what’s going on right now.

“Great! I’ll come to you.” Before she can stop herself Skye adds, “It’s a date.”

Jemma just hopes her mouth hasn’t dropped _too_ far open.  “Yes,” she manages to squeak.  “I -- I ought to get going.  I wanted to pick some things up before… yes, I… I’ll see you at home later, Fitz, see you tomorrow, Skye.”  And with that, she all but dashes out of the store.

Skye’s grinning so widely that it seems to be making Fitz a bit uneasy. “What was all that about?” he asks. “I haven’t seen Simmons that flustered since she accidentally ran into Maya Hansen coming out of Dr. Weaver’s office a few months ago. So many papers everywhere. Poor thing, I thought she would never stop stuttering.” He eyes Skye for a moment. “Wait. When you said ‘date,’ did you mean…?”

“Ding ding ding! And he takes home the gold!” Skye throws up her arms in mock celebration. “Seriously, you didn’t notice I was flirting my ass off?”

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but you basically act like that with everyone, so excuse me if I didn’t notice subtle nuances in your behavior--”

“‘Excuse me if I didn’t notice subtle nuances in your behavior,’” repeats Skye, putting on a stupid voice. “Whatever. You jealous I’ve got a date with your roommate? Flatmate? Whatever you guys call it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Fitz rolls his eyes. “We’re not like that at all. I was just trying to figure out what’s going on, that’s all.”

Skye shoots him a sarcastic double thumbs-up as she heads back toward her position at the Genius Bar. “Got it in one, Sherlock. You English people are a bunch of genuises.”

“ _I’m Scottish!”_ he protests, but she’s put headphones in, clearly ignoring him on purpose.


	6. fell in love with another burning bright, she dreamed of a way to ignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane comes to visit Thor at the Disney Store on her lunch break.

Jane knows she shouldn’t be surprised by what she sees in the Disney Store anymore. Emotionally, it’s a miniaturized version of a Disney park itself with less of a potential to make its visitors nauseous, which means that any and all things that could be described as “wacky” have the potential to take place there. This is no exception: her boyfriend, who’s one of the only employees on the floor, sitting behind the counter wolfing down a sandwich while his friend Volstagg (the eternally jovial one, which makes sense about now) pretends to swordfight with a handful of children.

Thor spots her after a moment and waves. “Jane!” he calls, coming out from behind the counter to stand beside her. “It’s good to see you!”

“I just saw you this morning, Thor,” she mumbles, but she’s smiling. His good nature is kind of infectious.

“I know, but I missed you all the same.” Thor flashes her one of his knee-melting smiles. “Volstagg was just entertaining some customers while I ate.”

“If I’d known you were coming I would’ve brought one for you too, Jane,” calls Volstagg apologetically, then groans exaggeratedly as one little girl gently stabs her foam sword into his stomach. “Oh, you’ve bested me again!”

“It’s fine,” Jane assures, waving a hand. “I already had an applesauce, I’ll be all right.”

Thor frowns. “Jane, you must eat more than that. Tonight I’ll make you dinner, I insist.”

“I had an actual breakfast this morning,” Jane defends. “Cereal and a whole glass of orange juice like on the commercials.” But it’s an impossibly cute offer (not the first time such an offer has been made, but they’re never getting old) so she can’t help but add, “I wouldn’t say no to that, though.”

“Excellent! It shall be done.” Thor gives her one of his crushing hugs and a kiss that makes her head spin. Vaguely, she hears the kids yelp “EWWWW!” and “GROSS!” and scamper away, and Volstagg chuckle.

“Should you be doing that on the salesfloor?” Jane murmurs faintly.

“It’s true love’s kiss, nothing wrong with that,” says Thor, laughing. 

Volstagg smiles. “Just a few years ago, you never would’ve made such suggestions. Or offered to cook a girl dinner. I vastly prefer your new and improved self.”

“You and everyone from school I still talk to,” says Thor cheerfully. “Although I should be sure that my family has no obligations for me tonight. Come to the break room with me, Jane?”

She nods, reaching for his hand and letting him lead her in the right direction. “Is that a specific obligation-check or a vague one?” she asks.

“Oh, you know my father, he may have invented something that I’ve forgotten about.” Thor sounds like he’s joking, but Jane knows that Thor’s father puts a lot of expectations on his elder son.

“So it’s better safe than sorry,” she surmises. “I get it.” She slips her phone out of her pocket and pages to her calendar, abiding by the same principle. “Glad to report that I’m nice and free this evening.”

Smiling, Thor replies, “I hope I am as well.” He’s reached his locker by this point, opening it and pulling out a thin planner (he’s the only person Jane knows who uses a physical planner in the year 2014 but she’s not about to criticize him for it). After a quick glance, he says, “Excellent, I have no prior plans. I will cook you a feast!”

“A _feast_ ,” Jane repeats, laughing. “So you’re gonna make sure that Darcy and I have leftovers for a week, basically.”

“I swear it!” Thor looks so earnest that she believes him entirely.

“She’s going to be so happy,” Jane says.

“And you? I hope this makes you happy, also?”

She leans in for another kiss, this one softer but no less passionate. “It makes me delighted,” she agrees. “And besides, I think it’ll be good for us to just have a night to ourselves, you know? No hyper friends, no work or homework or any of that, no family drama…”

At the words “family drama” she notices a grimace pass over Thor’s handsome face, but then it’s gone just as quickly. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks. “Is there some new version of that I haven’t heard about? Something with your brother?”

Thor sighs. “Nothing new, but Loki’s being…cagey. He refuses to talk to me about anything, his therapy or his interactions with our father or that woman I’ve seen him talking with sometimes, Lorelei. I’d like to think well of her, but I’m afraid she might be the sort of person that would encourage him to get into more trouble.”

Jane has to work to keep from consciously sighing. From what he’s said and what she’s seen, Loki being cagey is nothing new and getting into trouble isn’t something he needs any help doing. But she understands that Thor’s biggest blind spot is where his brother is concerned. “Well, from what I hear she doesn’t have the most pristine reputation,” she says diplomatically, “but it could all be very innocent.”

“I hope it is,” says Thor, looking serious. “Loki doesn’t need to get into any more mischief.”

‘For everyone’s sake,” she mumbles in agreement, trying not to roll her eyes. “Your mother has the patience of a saint.”

Thor laughs, her words seeming to cheer him up. Then again, he’s fond of his mother, and never misses the opportunity to praise her. “She had to, with the two of us. We were terrors as children. I’m sure she was relieved once we were old enough to be kept busy with homework and sports and such. Not that we didn’t get into trouble even so, of course.” He’s looking happier, which makes her feel better, and then he says, “Anyhow, I heard that Tony Stark is thinking of throwing a Halloween party. I don’t know what plans you had, but I thought it might be something fun to do.”

“I don’t have plans,” Jane agrees. “But a party at Tony Stark’s house? Really?”

Thor shrugs. “I think he’s planning to invite everyone from the mall.”

“Plus who knows how many of his… his so-called friends,” she assumes. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Neither would I,” admits Thor. “At all the parties I attended in school, at least fifty more people than intended would always show up.”

“Well, at the parties I attended in school, if _ten_ people showed up it was a crowd,” Jane points out. “Excuse me if I’m not all… social like that.”

Thor chuckles. “You needn’t worry, we don’t have to go. I thought I’d mention it, that’s all. Anything you want to do will be fine.”

“I’m not saying no,” Jane says. “I bet Darcy will insist, for one, and for another it could be interesting. I’m just saying I won’t be in my element is all.”

“I’ll do everything within my power to make you comfortable,” promises Thor. 

“I know,” Jane murmurs, giving his hand a squeeze.


	7. she makes the whole world silhouette, makes it flicker like film on a strip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint makes a new friend, or something like it anyway.

“Where are your candles?”

He’s so completely focused on rearranging a display, it takes Clint a moment to register that someone’s spoken to him.  It’s been dead in the shop for at least half an hour, so he’s taken to giving himself busywork.  “Ah…” he says, very intelligently, and turns to face whoever it is, then nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees it’s Raina from the weed store.  Not only has he never talked to her one-on-one, he’s never even seen her emerge from the back corner of the mall.  He’d just assumed she was a ghost that could only move from the weed store to the arcade and back, because that’s how ghosts work, right?  He tries to cover up his shock by coughing and says, “Um, sorry, we don’t actually h-have any candles.”

“Oh.”  For her part, Raina doesn’t try to hide her disappointment (or disgust, or disdain, or something along those lines).  “I just thought… since you’re called _Fuego_ , you would have merchandise that had to do with _fire_.  My mistake.”

This has actually occurred to Clint before - along with wondering why there’s a _bird_ in the logo instead of a flame - but since he can’t do anything about it, he just sort of shrugs and smiles awkwardly and says, “Yeah, it’s weird like that, I dunno why.  Sorry.”

“You aren’t the one who decides what merchandise you carry,” Raina shrugs.  It’s her way of absolving him, apparently.

“True enough,” replies Clint, still smiling apologetically.  “Feel free to look around though.  It’s pretty much dead in here.”

Raina raises an eyebrow.  “Poor bird boy,” she murmurs, turning and drifting toward a rack of jewelry at the front of the store.

He blinks in confusion, decides to ignore that (because, after all, he’s well aware that Raina has a reputation for saying… _weird_ things), and, attempting to make conversation, asks in a playful way, “So, did you exhaust the entire stock of Yankee Candle before coming here?”

“No,” she says, shrugging once more like she doesn’t immediately realize there’s more she needs to say.

“Oh.”  He blinks again, unsure of what to say to continue the conversation.  If it could be called a conversation.

“I don’t see the point in paying twenty-eight dollars for something I’m just going to burn up,” she continues, taking his confusion as a prompt.  “But that’s not why I asked.  It seems odd that you’d name your store something -- the general you, not the specific you -- and not follow through.”

“Uh,” he says, drawing the noise out while he processes the hypocrisy of the first statement while still trying to come up with a reply.  “Beats me,” he says finally.

“Seems a bit dishonest to me,” she continues, tangling her fingers in some long, extravagant necklaces as she ponders.

He chuckles.  “Well, I always thought it was pretty funny that someone thought naming a sporting goods store Dick’s was a good idea, but y’know.  I guess people are into false advertising.”

To one of their credit (depending on how you look at it) Raina laughs at that, though it’s more of a smoky sort of chuckle than a full-on hysteric giggle. “Shame,” she says.  She lets the jewelry fall abruptly back into place and moves to the other side of the store, right behind the window display that’s all paper lanterns and gauzy fake sky; unsurprisingly, she seems to get lost contemplating this very seriously.

After a few moments of staring at her with no sign that she’s paying the slightest bit of attention to him, Clint gives up and decides to leave her to her own devices.  He turns back to the display he’d been working on earlier and doesn’t think about her again until he hears her mutter, “Absolutely disgusting.”

“Hm?” he asks, almost automatically.

“I know it wasn’t _your_ idea to carry all of this,” she begins, waving a hand toward a rack of merchandise, “but doesn’t it just make you sad?”

He turns to see what she’s talking about, and is still confused when he realizes that the merchandise she objects to is all from _The Big Bang Theory_.  It’s a stupid show, to be sure, but he wouldn’t jump to disgusting necessarily.  Disgusting that it got better ratings than _Community_ despite being nowhere near as funny, maybe.  “Sure?” he says, trying to be agreeable.

“I mean, why would people want to strive for the lowest common denominator?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.  “The writing, I mean.  It’s lazy and offensive to just about everyone.  Stories should try to give you something better to shoot for.  Not just stereotypical stock characters and racist, sexist jokes.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” he agrees.  “Now that I think about it, I happened to be channel surfing and caught the tail end of an episode that had one of them going out with a deaf girl, but it turned out she was a gold digger using the guy for money.  I was pretty prickly about that.”  He casually gestures to the small hearing aid in his right ear.  “Myself, I’m an NBC man.”

She tilts her head to the side, gives a short nod.  “As you should have been,” she declares in a voice that sounds like she thinks she’s being somehow encouraging.  “Do you have any more of the purple lanterns?  There aren’t any near the display.”

“Ah, I can check for you, see if we have any more listed in the system.”  He ambles over to the register while she floats over to look at the greeting cards.

“Is it hard for cats to spell because they picked the language up phonetically?” she asks, lifting a card with a picture of a cat in a suitcase that reads “iz redy fo advenchrr.”

Clint laughs, not expecting that commentary.  “I guess so? It’s just a goofy internet thing that escaped, really.  Best looked at when drunk off your ass.  I can testify.”  After fruitlessly searching, he has concluded that they have no purple lanterns.  “Or maybe it’s because they haven’t got thumbs?  Anyway, sorry to say we haven’t got any lanterns left in that color.  You could check back in a couple weeks when we restock, though.”

“Maybe,” Raina shrugs.  “I don’t know if they’ll hold my fancy that long.  But they might.”  She flashes a smile.  “Thank you for trying, bird boy.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.”  The nickname throws him off-guard enough that he just nods.  “Nice to, uh, meet you?”

“That’s always a funny sentiment when it’s clear you both already know _of_ each other,” she muses, calling it over her shoulder as she starts to exit.

He stares after her for a long moment, then shakes his head.  “So that’s Raina,” he says, to no one in particular.   _Well, I guess that means she’s_ probably _not a ghost._


	8. you've got opinions, man, we're all entitled to 'em, but I never asked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria witnesses some awkward Nazi flirting and the creative reactions to it.

It hadn’t been Victoria’s intention to become one of those people who used every one of their breaks to text their significant other, but without even realizing it was happening till it was too late that’s what she’s become.  She used to spend her lunch hour on her phone reading as many Reuters articles as she could make time for, now she spends the time doing what everyone around her probably thought she was doing anyway.  It’s Isabelle’s fault, she swears.

Occasionally things happen to catch her eye, though.  She’s not _quite_ as disinterested in her surroundings as a lot of the other employees here seem to think she is.  (Though really, they’re none of them as fascinating as they think.)  What causes her to look up from her saffron shrimp and gnocchi this particular lunch hour is the loud voice of one of her least favorite people, and said loud voice isn’t doing itself any favors given that it’s being used to say things both cliched and likely unwelcome.

“Y’know, you’ve got really pretty eyes,” says the smirking asshole whose name is Grant Ward, and who Victoria would just as well never see again.  Fortunately, she’s not the target of his attention - that dubious honor goes to Jemma Simmons, who seems to be all alone behind the counter of MaggieMoo’s (and if there is something else working today, they’re in the back).  Ward is holding a cone, but it’s clear that’s not what he came for, and Jemma’s reacting with the kind of awkward uncertainty that Victoria is used to seeing when men hit on them while they’re just trying to do their jobs.  The poor girl looks a little like a frightened animal, and while Victoria generally keeps herself out of other people’s business, she decides that if this continues for much longer, she might have to step in on Jemma’s behalf.  Ward’s clearly not leaving.

In fact, he leans on the counter and continues talking to Jemma, his voice low enough that Victoria can’t make out the exact words but she can judge both from both his tone and her experience with entitled douchebag men the kinds of things he’s saying.  She narrows her eyes and then belatedly registers the phone in her hand, which has buzzed three times in the last two minutes (twice from Isabelle).

>> _Sorry.  I’ll be responsive soon.  There might be a situation_.

There.  That’s a sufficient enough explanation for her momentary absence, although she doesn’t set the phone down lest she seem too involved in the drama unfolding in front of her.  Jemma (who Victoria has always seen as one of the more tolerable of her fellow employees, at least in small doses before her nervous energy starts to rub off) is tidying up her register, running water in the nearest sink to clean utensils, doing anything she can think of to distract herself, but it doesn’t look like Ward is even paying attention to her signs.  Of course he’s not.

Granted, it doesn’t really seem like he’s interested in Jemma in particular, so much as that he’s enjoying making her uncomfortable by flirting with her because she’s young and female and alone.  Victoria rolls her eyes again.   _Men_.  He might even think he’s doing the cute little nerdy girl a favor, being an attractive older man who’s deigning to give her his attention and all.  It’s making Victoria a little sick to look at, honestly.

She’s seriously considering stepping in when she notices another one of her least-favorite people (but at least this one’s slightly more tolerable) heading for the scene as well.  Skye, the mouthy little hacker who works at the Mac Store, has said something she thinks is clever one too many times for Victoria’s liking, but Victoria has also noticed that Skye’s been hanging around MaggieMoo’s ever since she was hired here, and she has a suspicion it has to do with Jemma.  And if there’s anyone who won’t stand for Ward’s posturing, it’s Skye.

“Hey, Jemma!” Skye calls brightly, and when Ward turns around to see what the commotion is her expression flickers to distaste for the briefest second before she pastes her smile back on.  Meanwhile, Jemma looks relieved to see her.

“Skye!” Jemma exclaims, loud enough that she can probably be heard at the end of the corridor.  “Hello!  Did you want your usual?  Piña colada?”

“Sure!  Unless there’s anything you recommend?”  Skye’s voice has a false brightness to it, and she’s pointedly ignoring Ward, who looks slightly confused.

Jemma’s eyes go wide.  “I, I could drizzle caramel on it?  Mix it up a bit for you?”

“Ooh, yes please!”  That brightness seems less false.

By now Ward, confused that the attention is not on him, has switched tactics and grins lazily at Skye.  “You work at the Mac Store down the way, right?  That shirt looks good on you.”  He punctuates this with a creepy lick of his ice cream cone that makes Victoria feel more than a little ill.

Skye giggles in the most blatantly fake way, and Jemma raises her eyebrows as she hands Skye’s cone to her, but Ward’s apparently fallen for it.  “Thanks,” Skye says, batting her eyelashes like she’s in a fucking cartoon or something.  “Yours does too.”  She twirls a strand of hair around her finger and looks up at him in the most ridiculous way.

Now, Victoria knows Skye’s faking him out for some reason, but Jemma seems less assured.  From what Victoria can assume about the girl, she’s not completely ignorant to the ways of the world, but she also doesn’t seem the savviest; she’s watching the whole exchange with a raised eyebrow that could be read as suspicion, could be read as veiled amusement, or could be read as genuine confusion.  Given the way she keeps surreptitiously touching her face, Victoria’s going to guess it’s at least partly the last one.

Skye then spends two minutes fawning over his biceps and asking to feel them.  Ward looks so smug Victoria kind of wants to punch him in the dick, but she keeps herself still.  This is probably going somewhere good, and far be it from her to interrupt the show.

“Wow, these can’t be from working at IKEA!” Skye’s saying.  “Do you work out?  You must.”

“Every chance I get,” replies Ward proudly. “I believe in constantly improving yourself.”

There’s a flicker of something across Skye’s face - disbelief, Victoria hopes - before she nods.  “That’s very admirable,” she says, her smile giant and false.  “I like men who are self-aware.”

Jemma raises an eyebrow at that, then promptly turns away under the guise of retrieving something or another, but not before Victoria can very clearly see the beginnings of a smirk on her face. It seems like she’s finally gotten the joke.

Ward, on the other hand, barrels on.  “I’ve never particularly thought of it as self-awareness, just as a responsibility on my part to improve the world by eliminating flaws.  Mine, or other people’s, if possible.”  He grins, and that Victoria has heard the rumors of his involvement with a Nazi group the double entendre makes it a chilling expression.  Not that she’s often chilled by things, but Nazis are the exception.

To Victoria’s delight, Skye and Jemma both seem to have heard those rumors too.  Jemma’s whirled around and looks completely horrified, but Ward is too busy being smug to notice.  Meanwhile, Skye is marginally better at hiding her disgust, covering it up with yet another pasted-on smile.  “Funny, I’ve always thought it went pretty badly for those who try to improve other people.  But maybe I’m just mistaken,” she says with a shrug.

Ward is smiling patronizingly.  “It’s easy to think that if you haven’t been properly educated.  Some people just know what’s best.”

“Your ice cream!” Jemma suddenly exclaims, setting a bowl on the counter as noisily as she can.  “Here!  I added some coconut, too!  I took a bit of a chance, I mean I know not everyone likes coconut as much, but I promise it complements!”

Skye grins, genuinely this time, and takes it.  “Thanks!  I trust you.  Promise.”

While Skye takes her wallet out to pay for her ice cream, Victoria wonders, _Is this always what straight people flirting looks like?_  Granted, she’s pretty sure not everyone in this equation is straight, and she has straight friends who don’t flirt like this, but she’s unsure whether the ostensibly straight flirting is what’s making it weird, or if it’s just the Nazi ideology at play.

Ward is clearly about to say something when Jemma lifts her chin like she’s made a meaningful decision and asks, “So, are you still coming over for movie night tonight?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.”  At this point Skye is also ignoring Ward.  This seems to confuse him again, and he just stares at them for a moment before asking, “What movie are we watching?”

Of course he assumes it’s an open invitation, Victoria thinks.  She’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone radiate entitlement so clearly.

“Oh, we’re not set on any one thing yet,” Jemma chirps.  “We each bring a movie and roll for which gets watched.  Very diplomatic, really, leaving it up to chance.  That way it’s not always one person’s pick or another.”

“Everybody gets a turn,” adds Skye with a grin.  “We three have a system.”

Ward frowns.  “Who else is there?”  He seems vaguely threatened by the prospect.

“Fitz, of course!” Jemma says.  “He wasn’t exactly keen on adding a third, but he’s warmed to the arrangement.”

Skye’s eyes brighten and she says, “Yeah, we work really well together.  It’s very balanced and everyone gets what they want...eventually.”

Based on what Victoria knows about both Jemma and her relationship to Fitz, she’s pretty sure they’re lying and she’s pretty sure Jemma is doing it accidentally.  Skye, on the other hand, is playing it up, clearly trying to freak Ward out since flirting him out wasn’t working.  And possibly because this make-believe situation would earn his extreme disapproval.

“That’s...interesting.”  Ward looks distinctly uncomfortable, as predicted.  Jemma looks like she’s finally realized what is actually being discussed and shoots Skye a pointed look as covertly as she can (which is not particularly covert).

“Well,” she says, her voice wavering, “it certainly works for us, and like I said, Fitz is very stuck in his ways with us.”

“I see.”  Turning to Skye, he says, “Well, if you ever get tired of the Wonder Twins, you know where I’ll be.”  With a last half-hearted smile, he leaves.

“Yeah, we do,” Victoria hears Skye say quietly.  “Prefab hell.”

That makes Victoria almost laugh, though she’s careful to be subtle about it (can’t have her aloof reputation soiled, after all).  She gathers her things to leave, and then remembers Isabelle suddenly.  She sends her a quick text.

>> _Sorry, got caught up in something.  I’ll fill you in later_.

Then, sure that the unexpected but highly entertaining afternoon drama is over, she makes her way back to the jewelry store.  However, she hears Jemma’s anxious voice behind her say, “You know we’re going to have to mention this to Fitz.”

“I know, but it was totally worth it,” replies Skye, and Victoria walks slower so she can listen in.  “Plus I managed to hack into his phone and copy everything on it.  I’m sure there’s some juicy shit on there.”


	9. hey soldier, I'm missing your life, wish I could hold ya and make it alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon comes over for a game night, and Sam, Steve and Natasha explain to her the history of the mysterious Bucky.

Sharon knocks three times, then stands there politely for probably fifteen seconds before knocking again.  “Guys?  Are you in there?”

“C’mon in, the door’s open!” she hears Natasha’s voice call.

So she shuffles her bags of chips around to get her hand free and turn the doorknob, then she makes sure it’s shut behind her (she doesn’t lock it, though she thinks about it; maybe Sam has a strange policy about doors that she doesn’t know) before stepping into the living room.

Where she sees… what can best be described as a pile of people.

Steve is flopped in a position that’s halfway between sitting up and lying down, with Sam spooning him from behind.  Natasha is wrapped around both of them at once, somehow.  They all look happier and more relaxed than she’s ever seen them look at the mall, especially Natasha - Sam’s got his hand tangled in her hair and seems to be petting it.  Steve pauses in the story he was telling to look over at Sharon and smile warmly.

“Uh… hey,” Sharon says lamely, cursing how confused she probably looks.

Sam seems more interested in the bag of chips.  “Ooh, you brought snacks! Here, let me get you bowls for those.”  He gently untangles himself from the pile of people, and then the other two are back to being individuals just like that.  Natasha’s hair is just the slightest bit disheveled, and Sharon has to consciously will herself not to stare.  Natasha’s hair is always perfect at work, no matter what else is going on, so it’s a weird sight to say the least.

“I just thought it would be nice,” she murmurs.  “Since I’m your guest and… all that.”

“You don’t need to be so formal, Sharon,” Steve says kindly.

“Because you’re truly a bastion of informality, Steve,” Natasha comments, with a fond smirk.

“You may be one of the only people I’ve ever met who’s offended by my manners,” Steve counters.

Natasha rolls her eyes.  “I’m not offended.  I’d just rather get to the point of things.”

“And I don’t know why you can’t do both,” Steve replies with a smile that on anyone else would be infuriating but on him is almost sweet.

“Oh, not this fight again,” calls Sam good-naturedly as he comes back in with two brightly-colored bowls.  “I apologize for these hooligans, Sharon.  They’re always arguing about the dumbest shit.  Here, I’ll take those from you.”  He proceeds to fill each bowl with barbeque- and sea-salt-and-vinegar-flavored chips.

“It’s all right,” Sharon shrugs, waving it off as she perches on the sofa.  “So, is anyone else coming tonight?”

“Did Bucky say he was coming?” asks Natasha, looking at Steve.

Steve nods.  “He’s been having a good week at work, so he felt up to it,” he confirms.

“Cool,” says Sam with a grin.  “It’s been a while since he’s been over here.”

“Oh!” Sharon exclaims suddenly, realizing that it would be important to choose her next words carefully. “I’ve heard a lot of things about him, but we’ve never talked.”

“What things?”  Natasha’s tone is friendly and her expression is neutral-curious, but it makes Sharon slightly nervous.

“Well,” Sharon begins, because she realizes it’s too late to back out now.  “He’s been involved in some… less than savory stuff?”

All three of them laugh, which is the last thing she expected.  Natasha’s is a knowing, throaty chuckle, Sam seems to find it riotously funny, and Steve’s laugh is more surprised than really amused.  As the laughter dies down - well, mostly Sam’s - Natasha says, “Sorry, we’re just...never sure what people know about Bucky.  There’s a hell of a grapevine around here.  But I guess we’d better fill you in.  Steve, you wanna take this?”

“Bucky and I were best friends growing up,” Steve begins, with a tone of voice like this is going to be one of those stories.  Sam takes his hand as if to offer moral support.  “We used to get up to some pretty… bad stuff.”

“As long as your definition of ‘bad stuff’ involves ‘saving abused dogs,’” cuts in Natasha, with a wry smile.

Sharon is completely aware that she’s probably made a very distinctly shocked-in-the-positive-way kind of face, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Saving the dogs wasn’t bad,” Steve concedes, “but breaking into a building to save the dogs…”  He shakes his head, looking highly disappointed in himself.  “We should have thought that one through better.”

“Since when do you ever think things through when injustice is involved?” asks Natasha, but her voice is gentler than Sharon’s ever heard it. She leans against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve manages a slight smile for her, one that looks somehow oddly private.  “I just wish I had that time, because when we got caught Bucky felt like he had to take all of the blame for it, because…”

“That’s the kind of guy he is,” finishes Sam.  “Throw himself under the bus if it meant everybody else’d be okay.”

“Right,” Steve murmurs.  “His dad was…”

“A dick.”  Natasha says it with a smirk, as if she’s happy that she gets to deliver the blunt criticism that Steve won’t.

“And sent him to the alternative high school as a punishment,” Steve concludes.  His frown is quick to return.

Sam, while still holding Steve’s hand, chimes in, “You’ve probably heard the rumors about the gang that basically runs that school.  Poor Bucky got himself tangled up in it pretty bad.  John Garrett, who was an aide, basically had full run of the school and recruited for his crazy Nazi group from the worst of the bullies.  No one’s really sure how Bucky ended up in there, and he doesn’t talk about it, but it was pretty rough for him.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Sharon whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear anxiously.  “But he managed to get out, right?”

“He did,” Steve said.  “Thanks in very large part to Natasha.”

“Please, I just did the punching,” murmurs Natasha, having closed her eyes in the way of someone who’s utterly relaxed.  “You’re the one who took care of him for months afterwards, drove him to therapy and found him those dogs.”

“But none of it would have happened if you hadn’t been there,” Steve points out.  To Sharon, he explains, “Bucky and I had fallen out of touch by the time he met Natasha, but… well.  I won’t put words in Natasha’s mouth.”

Natasha smiles and opens her eyes.  “Much appreciated,” she says, sort of patting his arm.  “Essentially, I told him several times while we were together that perhaps staying in the Nazi gang wasn’t to his best interests.  Then after we parted ways but stayed friends, he came to me for help after some fucker shot his arm off.  Thus, punching.  And some other things I probably shouldn’t mention in the interests of plausible deniability.”

The best thing Sharon can think of to say is, “I didn’t know you two had been… together.”  She feels silly that it’s _that_ she takes away from that confession, but still.

“I’m full of surprises.”  Natasha looks amused.

Sharon has always sort of figured that, but she decides it’s better not to mention. “I’m really glad you were able to help him out of that, then,” she says earnestly.

“Yeah.”  Sam smiles fondly at the other two before continuing.  “They were pretty awesome through that whole thing.  I didn’t meet him till after the fact, but I guess it messed Bucky up pretty bad and these two were a big part of his recovery.  Steve even put in a good word for him at Sephora, which got him the job there.  He’s okay now, I think.  It’s a process.”

“That’s a good word for it,” Steve agrees.  “If I could go back and keep all of it from happening, I would.  But the important thing now is to be there for him.”

“Wow,” Sharon can’t help but murmur.  “You guys are…”

“We know,” interrupts Natasha with a chuckle.  “It’s flattering of you to think so, though.”

“So is there anything I should be sensitive of?” Sharon asks.  She knows to watch out for a person’s triggers, especially a person who’s been through as much as Bucky apparently has.

“Well, Nazis,” says Sam with a wry smile, “but maybe don’t bring those up in general.”

“It’s good of you to ask.  In general, just don’t patronize him - he hates that,” Natasha adds.

“Of course,” Sharon nods.  Because she doesn’t want to seem like she’s making more of a deal than she is, she reaches for a potato chip to nibble.  “What… game are we playing?”

“Apples to Apples,” Steve pipes up, looking and sounding a bit more like his usual self.  “You ever played?”

“Once or twice,” Sharon says.  “It’s been a little while, but it’s not too hard to remember the rules.”

Sam laughs.  “Yeah, well, we play it a little differently.  Less with the straight answers, more with the ridiculous or gutter-minded.”

“I… see,” Sharon says very politely.  “That will be interesting.”

Just then there’s a knock at the door.  “That’s Bucky,” said Natasha, before calling out “C’mon in, Buck!”

Despite herself, Sharon sits up a bit straighter, arranges her expression into something politely neutral and welcoming (she hopes).  Steve had said not to be formal but she sort of can’t help it after hearing all that.

The door opens, Bucky walks in, and, not even acknowledging Sharon, immediately strides over to lie on Steve’s lap.  Natasha smiles and starts to stroke his hair.  “Miss us, James?” she asks.

“Yeah,” says Bucky, and it’s more of a sigh than a word as he closes his eyes.  After a moment he opens them again and glances over at Sharon.  “Hey there,” he says shyly.  “I’m Bucky.  You must be Sharon?”

“I - yeah, I am,” she says.  Part of her wonders if he just knew of her in the way that all of the mall’s employees know of each other or if the others had mentioned her, and if they’d mentioned her what was the context, but she doesn’t want to let any of that slip out.  Instead she says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”  Bucky smiles at her.  “So, is it game time, then?” he asks Steve.

“Sure is,” Steve grins, opening the box and starting to shuffle the cards.

 

* * *

 

The green card on the table (drawn by Sharon, because they all insisted that as the newcomer she should start them off) is Loud.

Sharon watches everyone drawing and contemplating their red cards very seriously, trying to gauge just how ridiculous they’re planning on getting.  (If she gets a Sex card, she’ll have a pretty good idea.)  Natasha looks smug as she lays her card down, Steve looks decidedly neutral, Sam looks amused, Bucky just shrugs.

“Loud,” Sharon repeats as she takes the cards in.  Hit & Run, Airplanes, Rock And Roll, and Jim Carrey.  She can’t tell for the life of her who set down what, and after a moment of deliberation she selects the Rock And Roll card.  Well, it’s true.

“Oh, c’mon,” protests Natasha.  “You’ve seen a Jim Carrey movie before, right?  That man is obnoxiously loud.”

“Okay, so I guess we know what your card was,” Sharon smirks.  “Who wins this round?”

“Oh, that’s me!”  Bucky looks surprised.  “I was sure it’d be too boring.”

Sharon’s sure she’s blushing.  “It’s probably the loudest thing, overall,” she shrugs.

“True enough,” says Sam, grinning.  “But now, I’m gonna show you how we _really_ play this.” He draws a green card and announces, “Up  & Down.  You guys better not waste this glorious opportunity.”

Everyone seems amused by this, but Sharon really doesn’t know what to do.  Finally, she settles on Bowling, with the rationalization that in bowling the pins get set up and then knocked down.  It’s lame, but it’s something.

Sam picks up the cards, flipping through them for a second before bursting into hysterical laughter.  “Oh my god, thank you.  Dildos wins!”

“Since when is there a Dildos card?” Sharon exclaims, laughing to hide her shock.

“Since there were a shitton of offensive cards, so we replaced them with our own.”  Natasha’s smirking again, and it’s clear she’s the culprit.

“Dammit, I never get Dildos,” says Bucky.  “Why do you always get Dildos, Tasha?”

Before this can get out of hand, Steve flips over a new green card, this one reading Jolly.

Given that her most recently-drawn red card reads Jelly Beans, Sharon feels like she might have a chance this round.  It’s sort of a childish version of jolly, but it’s something.  And when Steve examines the cards and then flips hers down with a smile, she can’t help but feel proud of herself.  Which is silly, because it’s a silly game, but she does anyway.

Steve, for his part, looks at her and mouths “not all of us play it dirty the whole time,” which she finds somehow reassuring.

It’s Natasha’s turn to judge, and she draws Tempting.  “Do your worst,” she comments playfully.

Since Steve is the first to set his red card down, she looks at him and quips, “That was quick.  Did you have Vibrators?”

“No,” Steve retorts, actually sticking out his chin.  “But it does involve temptations.”

“Ooh, I’m curious now.”

Sharon, for her part, has adopted a smug expression of her own.  Pajamas.  Pajamas are… they’re something you wear to bed.  And bed is the place that most sexual activities occur.  Or something like that.  (She’s beginning to feel slightly out of her element, but since it’s not in a bad way she’s trying.)

Natasha snorts appreciatively once she’s surveyed all the cards, then says, “In any other circumstances I would’ve picked Pajamas, but one of you assholes knows the way to my heart is to make fun of _Breaking Bad_.  So, Rock Candy.”

Grinning, Sam takes the card and says, “Asshole present and accounted for.”

Bucky pulls out Nasty.  “Please feel free to be as loosely sexual as you’d like,” he says with a winning smile.  From the choices given, he deliberates between Danielle Steel and A School Dance.  “I mean, I never went to any school dances but they seem pretty gross from all the teen comedies I’ve seen.”

“They are,” Sharon chimes in.  “Although I might be biased, too, because ours always had the extra grossness element of the boys from the boys’ school freaking out over the presence of us girls, but…”  She trails off sheepishly, because complaining about going to private school is sort of a jerk move.

Natasha makes a sympathetic face.  “High school boys are awful.  Without exception.”  

Though she doesn’t say anything (she doesn’t want to make a thing of it), Sharon finds that comforting in a way, reassuring somehow.  Like she’s not just the apparent square of the bunch.

Finally, Bucky picks Danielle Steel, much to Sam’s delight.  “Tempting and Nasty, that’s me,” he says cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the game, or what passes as the end of the game, they’ve all racked up a fair amount of green cards.  Not enough to get a technical win according to the rules, but Sharon’s pretty much assured they don’t play by rules, in this or any other thing.  She doesn’t mind it.  It’s sort of endearing.  It’s just different.

They wind up trailing off after the third round, and by that point, Sharon notices, the others have all melted back into each other.  Steve and Sam are leaning against each other, Steve resting against the arm Sam’s casually flung around him, and Bucky’s back to being flopped across both their laps.  Natasha has draped herself over Bucky’s legs to rest her head on Sam’s chest.  And Sharon is… just sitting there, trying to decide whether or not to start picking up the game.

They’re chatting casually about the game’s ending too.  After a few minutes, Steve lazily turns to look Sharon head-on, that easy smile returned.  “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Cleaning up?” Sharon murmurs, phrasing it as a question even if it’s really not.

“Eh, we’ll have time for that later,” replies Sam, also smiling.  “C’mon over, there’s room for you too.  If you want, I mean, no pressure.”

“Oh!” Sharon says.  She’s proud that it comes out sounding unsurprised, even if she’s incredibly surprised (and dimly wondering if this was or is an audition of some kind).  She regards the pile, trying to figure out where to add herself in, but Natasha, possibly sensing her dilemma, extends an arm and beckons her close, so she nods and snuggles right up.

“There you go,” says Natasha softly.  “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” Sharon agrees, reflecting on the fact that despite the way she would never have predicted this, she really is.


	10. let’s call our shadow selves out for the evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 4 of Tony's Halloween party. There is mingling as guests arrive, costumes are explained and admired, and Pepper has had to take over for Tony (again).

“Hill, this parrot is on my shoulder because why, exactly?”

“Because you’re a pirate.”

“I know that. But when I agreed to wear this costume, I didn’t know you were gonna throw in a damned parrot.” Nick scowls, which is truly comical considering he’s wearing a goofy-looking pirate outfit with red satin framing the belt and a matching red bandana on his head. And his customary eyepatch, of course. The green flocked parrot perched on his shoulder really doesn’t make it any less dignified than it already was.

Maria raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know why you assumed I wouldn’t throw in a parrot,” she deadpans. “And don’t be so hard on the poor guy, I don’t think he’s committed nearly enough treason on the high seas yet to be going to parrot hell.” Because it’s Maria, she manages to keep a completely straight face when saying this, though that should be impossible.

Nick blinks, and then, apparently deciding better of it, just looks resigned to his situation. “There had better be some good drinks at this party.”

“There’s no way you haven’t heard the rumors about Tony Stark’s parties,” Maria points out.

“I have, and they’re the only reason I’m here,” replies Nick. “That, and I didn’t wanna look like a dumbass on Monday while you all are yakking nonstop about this party.”

“You mean you’re not even a little curious to see everyone outside of the work bubble?” Maria quips. “I for one think observing them in this environment might actually make it easier to deal with them. Imagine: someone does something stupid here, we can remember it and just laugh every time they make us want to tear our hair out there.”

Snorting, Nick nods. “Fair point. But I’m not staying out the whole night either. I like getting a reasonable amount of sleep.”

“Eager to get back to your _NCIS_ reruns, Grandpa?” she asks, turning to scan the room (and avoid his undoubtedly scathing gaze).

“If you think I’d watch that shit you know even less about me than I thought. Which, I admit, would be somewhat comforting, if you didn’t think I have terrible taste.”

“Hey, you two!” The overly cheery (possibly strained) voice from behind them belongs to none other than Pepper, appearing with a tray of golden-brown-colored shots. “Shots?”

“How the hell did Stark rope you into being the shot girl?” Maria asks disbelievingly.

“I found out he was getting drink inspiration from a BuzzFeed article,” Pepper rolls her eyes. “13 Shots You Have to be Crazy to Take. I decided that was one of the worst ideas possible.”

Nick winces as he takes one of the shots. “These are what?” he asks, then, before Pepper can answer, he downs it.

“Peanut Butter and Jelly,” Pepper says proudly.

He shoots her a withering look. “I see.”

“It’s black raspberry Chambord and hazelnut Frangelico,” Pepper explains. “It’s not dangerous at all! And sometimes that’s exactly what we need.”

Nick shrugs and takes another. “Ah, what the hell, it’s still booze.”

“Hey, boss,” Maria says suddenly, her tone turning sneaky. “See that, on Pepper’s shoulder?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Looks to me like an owl,” Maria says. “It’s an owl, right?”

“It is,” Pepper agrees. “I figured it would be the easiest way to set me apart as Athena and not just a generic Greek goddess.”

“And I assume it hasn’t been giving you trouble,” Maria presses.

“I see what you’re doing,” grunts Nick, “and I acknowledge it. Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about this parrot.” But he doesn’t say anything more, so Maria considers it a win for her.

Then someone, wearing a shiny black suit and a helmet that Maria instantly recognizes as one of Daft Punk’s, saunters over and taps Pepper on the shoulder.

“I don’t know, Rhodey,” Pepper sighs. “I thought he was with you.”

Looking sort of sad and defeated, Rhodey begins to shuffle off, but not before Maria calls “Great costume!” and puts up her hands in a triangle shape. Rhodey turns back, nods, and does the hand motion in return before moving on.

“The fuck was that?” Nick turns to Maria looking entirely baffled.

“Daft Punk,” Maria says, slowing her voice down deliberately. “It’s a band.”

“Uh huh. And that triangle hands thing, that’s what, their secret code?”

“Or something,” Maria agrees, because she knows what is and isn’t worth explaining.

There’s a loud noise from somewhere in the house (probably screaming, possibly someone screaming at Tony) and the next thing Maria sees is a tall person wearing an oversized number 83 football jersey, exaggerated shoulder pads, and a terrible blond wig and carrying a football. “‘SUP, BROS?” says the person, and Maria is startled to realize it’s Sif, though it’s hard to tell even without the paint smeared on her cheeks. “LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

Maria bursts out laughing. “I admit this is stumping me,” she says.

“DON’T YOU RECOGNIZE ME, DUDE?”

“I really don’t,” Maria declares.

Sif grins and turns around so that everyone can read the back of her jersey: ODINSON. Just then, Fandral (who’s wearing a truly ridiculous Robin Hood outfit) comes in from another room and, upon seeing Sif, laughs so hard that he falls to his knees. Behind him, Volstagg, dressed as Santa Claus, leans on the doorframe and howls, and even Hogun is smiling (Maria guesses he’s Link based on the sword and shield that she vaguely recognizes from her brother’s marathon _Zelda_ sessions).

“Where did you get my old jersey?” comes Thor’s booming voice from somewhere behind them. He’s forcing out his words, laughing so hard that they’re barely comprehensible.

Sif’s smirking, clearly happy that her costume’s gone over so well. “Your mother was very helpful.”

“Help an old man out,” mutters Nick to Maria, “how exactly is that a costume?”

“She’s dressed as him when he was a football player,” Pepper helpfully provides, overhearing. “Back in high school and college.”

That gets a laugh out of Fury, but then he immediately looks grumpy again. “I’m surrounded by children,” he sighs.

 

* * *

 

“Natasha, you were a cat earlier and you are now a grand princess! Why the change?” Thor asks.

“Well, just look at this dress,” replies Natasha, curtsying slightly. “There’s no way I’d wear it to work. It’d never survive the Gap. Or the children in the Gap. But I felt like being a princess tonight.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jane enthuses. “Did you make it yourself?”

“I did.” Natasha smiles, and doesn’t elaborate.

“I don’t know when you’d find the time for that,” Jane declares, with a certain amount of awe. “Thankfully Superman -” she gestures to Thor’s costume - “is one of those you can buy at any Halloween store and Lois Lane is easy to just borrow from yours and your friends’ closets.”

“Woah, nice dress,” gasps Tony, poking his head into the room where they’re all talking, “but I must admit, I have no idea which Disney princess you’re going for there.” He’s clutching a helmet under his arm.

“C’mon, don’t you recognize Anastasia, man?” calls Clint as he drops from the ceiling. This would be ridiculous even if he weren’t outfitted in a vaguely tent-shaped yellow blob of fabric that has cartoon eyes printed on the front, and he’s aware of that.

Tony stares for a moment. “Uh, well as a matter of fact I didn’t, and also, how did you get-” He breaks off. “Oops, gotta split!” he says, dashing off. A moment later a very exasperated (but still mostly in-character, since he at least has the helmet on) Rhodey stalks past.

“Oh, bird boy, you really _are_ a bird tonight,” Raina exclaims delightedly, appearing from some mystery location. It’s possible she was hiding behind one of the indoor plants (that would suit her) but then again it’s also possible she materialized out of nowhere.

Clint grins. “Well, I thought dressing as an Angry Bird was funny. And you are...not a ghost?” He’s still not completely sure about that.

“I’m a _fairy_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes like it’s completely obvious. Well, she does have wings, which would be a good clue, but aside from that the costume seems to be a red and purple corseted tutu dress, purple fishnets, and an impressive number of purple flowers pinned to her bodice and in her hair.

Nodding, Clint stammers, “Ah - v-very nice.” She smiles in her enigmatic way and floats off again, and when Clint turns back to his friends Natasha’s staring at him. “That was...unexpected,” she says.

He shrugs and replies, “I thought she was a ghost. She’s probably not a ghost.”

“Guys, has anyone seen Pepper?”

This time, the exclamation comes from Maya, who doesn’t seem to be wearing a costume at all, just black clothes and a nametag.

“Maya! I haven’t seen you this evening,” says Thor warmly. “And what is your costume?”

He’s interrupted by Jane’s giggling. “Your costume is amazing,” she says, once she’s gotten herself under control again.

“I don’t get it, a nametag?” asks Clint. Natasha also looks confused, but in a more dignified way.

“Hello,” Maya says flatly, gesturing to the nametag. “I’m dark matter.”

Jane giggles again and Natasha chuckles. The boys continue to look perplexed. Maya doesn’t offer further explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://unwind-myself.tumblr.com/post/99341066323/costume-inspiration-for-chapter-10-of-connect-the) are vague approximations of the store-bought costumes, and inspiration pictures for the rest.


	11. never you mind where the evening should find us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 4 of Tony's Halloween party. Some couples and groupings are expected, others less so. Darcy has made a mix.

“And then she showed us her name tag and she’s _dark matter_ ,” Jemma exclaims, eyes wide.  “Because nobody knows what dark matter looks like, so she doesn’t look like anything!  It’s brilliant, is what it is.”

“Wish I’d thought of it,” grumbles Fitz, scratching his head and then needing to adjust his cape for the fourth time since they’ve arrived.  “This wig is awful, I don’t know why I let you talk me into it.  It’s an old lady wig.  I don’t understand how Jon Pertwee put up with having something like this on his head all day!  Let alone not being able to take it off, poor bastard.”

Jemma rolls her eyes.  “I told you, you could have been Harry or Ron,” she says, straightening her own Gryffindor tie.  “That would have been just fine.”

“If I wanted to be one of the less important characters,” he argues.  “Besides, I couldn’t be Ron because then people would think I’m your boyfriend and that’s - that’s not okay with me.”

“So I see you haven’t told him that we’re all polyamorous now, Jem,” chirps Skye as she bounds up to them with a grin on her face, looking only slightly more hardcore than usual because she’s added leather pants to her usual leather jacket and tanktop ensemble.  She’s holding a drink in one hand and an obviously fake cigarette in the other.

Fitz blinks at her.  “Sorry? Is that the drink talking or have you gone insane?”

“Skye,” Jemma says warningly, “this isn’t the place to discuss that, darling.”

“Well, I thought he might like to _know_ ,” replies Skye, smirking and fiddling with her cigarette.  “Y’know, since that’s how I got Ward off your back.”

“I could have gotten Ward off my back just fine without that,” Jemma pouts.

“Yeah, but dashing rescues are fun. As is messing with assholes.”  Skye takes a sip of her drink and then squints at Fitz, as if trying to figure out what he is.  “Okay, you’re either an old lady going to the opera or a very fabulous greying Dracula.”

Fitz snorts.  “Third Doctor, c’mon Skye.  The great Jon Pertwee!  And you, I suppose, are auditioning for _Grease_.”

“No, I’m Joan Jett.”  Skye adjusts her slightly-better-than-Fitz’s wig.  “Well, sorta Kristen Stewart as Joan Jett.  From _The Runaways_?  Or did you guys stop worrying about rock music after The Beatles took over the world?”  Eyeing Jemma’s outfit, she comments, “And as for you, I love the schoolgirl look.”

“I’m Hermione,” she defends, although she can predict the next thing that Skye’s about to say.

“Bloody ‘ell, how British can you be?” asks Skye in the worst British accent since _My Fair Lady_.  “Shall I put the kettle on for a spot of tea?”

“You’re a disgrace.”  Fitz shakes his head.  “Never make it as a Doctor’s companion.  He’d throw you out.”

“She’d still be better’n Mickey,” Darcy chirps in a British accent that’s just about as bad, flouncing up to the others and striking a thoroughly uncomfortable-looking but dramatic pose.

Trip comes up behind her, wearing an extremely silly-looking knight costume that he’s still managing to look dignified in somehow.  He grins and waves the hand holding a plastic sword.  “Having fun?  We just got here.”

“Oh, y’know, annoying foreigners, hitting on hot girls, business as usual.”  Skye fistbumps Trip.  “Is she like, your princess, or…?”

Darcy lifts her arms, which manages to make her current legs-akimbo pose even more ridiculous.  “Agent of Love and Courage, the pretty sailor suited soldier Sailor Jupiter!  In the name of Jupiter, I will punish you!”

Skye starts giggling.  “Gotcha,” she says after she’s managed to get herself under control.  “Nice.”

“And I see you’re repping for Classic Who,” says Trip, smiling at Fitz.  “Nice cape.  I always did like Pertwee.”

Fitz looks a bit like he’s been suddenly doused in cold water, but he manages to stammer, “Y-You’re the first person to get it so far tonight.”  He smiles, and it’s shaky but genuine.  “He’s my favorite of the Classic ones, though everyone usually says Four.”

As the two of them get into a spirited discussion about the merits of various Doctors, Skye leans in close to Jemma and whispers, “I guess I was a little off the mark - Fitz is totally his prince.”

 

* * *

 

The passage of time at parties like this one is best marked by how many rounds of shots have been passed between the guests, and by the time the fourth variation of shots (this one cinnamon whiskey) is going around, everyone seems to have settled into a rhythm.  They’re all drinking and mingling and having a good time, except for Rhodey, who continues to fruitlessly chase Tony through the house like they’re the central characters in a comical version of _Les Miserables_.  Skye and Jemma have been pretty much inseparable all night, and surprisingly Trip and Fitz haven’t left each other’s side either.

Around 9 PM Mike arrives, in a very elaborate Batman outfit that was clearly not bought at a cheap party store.  As if he has a radar for these things, Thor accosts him almost immediately once he’s set foot indoors.  “Mike!  I see we have by happy chance coordinated our outfits for the evening!”

Mike smiles.  “Yeah, I took Ace out for trick-or-treating earlier, that’s why I’m late.  He was Robin.”

“An excellent choice! I’m sure he did credit to the costume.”  Thor beams at him.

“Yeah.  I’ve actually got pictures if you wanna see them-”

“Most definitely!”  Thor claps him on the back in enthusiasm, and Mike only coughs a little before pulling out his phone.  Skye, who happens to be standing nearby, pulls Jemma over to look too.

“Awwww!” she coos, because Ace does look especially cute in his Robin costume.  “I bet he was happy.”

“He had a good time, yeah.  Told everyone who would listen that he was gonna grow up to be Nightwing, it was pretty sweet.”

Both of the girls make appreciative noises and Thor says, “I look forward to seeing that costume as well.  You are an excellent father, Mike.”

“Thanks.”  Mike looks pleased, but also as if he’s not used to hearing that.  “I try, anyway.”

“No, you’re a kickass dad,” Skye says, and Jemma nods eagerly.

By this point most people have arrived, so no one’s really watching the door too closely.  So when a lumpy white shape clumsily pushes the door open and slips inside, Skye’s really the only one to notice.  Mostly because it looks like those sheet ghosts from the _Peanuts_ Halloween special, so she’s intrigued.  “Hey!” she calls.  “Who’s under there?”

The figure jumps, as if startled, and then mumbles, “Oh, hi, um, it’s Bruce.  Bruce Banner?”

“Oh yeah, hi! I’m Skye, I don’t know if we’ve ever met but I’ve seen you around.”  Skye awkwardly shakes Bruce’s sheet-covered hand.  “Nice costume.”

He chuckles.  “Thank you, I...I wasn’t quite sure what to do and I forgot about it until earlier today, really, so I just had to make do with what I found around the house.  I’m a ghost.”

“It’s charming,” Jemma interjects, grinning and offering a little wave.  One of Bruce’s stumps waves back.

“Hey, Bruce,” says Skye, spotting Pepper hurrying through the room with another tray of shots, “you should start going up to people and saying ‘boo.’  Y’know, to introduce yourself.”

“Oh, do you think they’d like that?” he asks, clearly nervous.

She smiles.  “I know they would. It’ll be adorable.”

So that’s how Pepper ends up getting tapped on the shoulder and spinning around to find an absurdly precious sheet ghost who’s saying “boo!” behind her.

“My goodness!” she exclaims, placing a hand over her heart.  “Who’s under there?  Or should I guess?”

“Guess,” comes the slightly muffled voice.

“Tony,” she declares.  “Are you trying to hide from Rhodey under that sheet?”

“No, guess again!”

“Sif,” she suggests.

The ghost chuckles.  “No, she’s much taller than me!”

“I give up,” Pepper says.

“It’s me, Bruce!  Whoooooooooooo…” he says, making his very best spooky ghost noise.

“Ooh, spoopy,” Darcy stage-whispers, walking by and swiping a shot from the tray on her way over to photobomb Natasha and Melinda (because she’s the only person who would have the nerve to do that).

“You have to be a princess to be in the princess selfies,” says Natasha somewhat sardonically.  Melinda, in a much simpler but still stunningly accurate Mulan dress, smirks.

“Hello,” Darcy rolls her eyes, “I’m the princess of Jupiter.  Or I was back in the Silver Millennium.”

Melinda shrugs.  “Works for me.”

“Hell yeah,” Darcy chuckles, making the silliest wide-eyed face she can manage and waving their camera her way.

They take a series of increasingly silly pictures, which astounds Darcy because she’s never seen Natasha make faces that weren’t intended to frighten someone and she wasn’t even sure that Melinda _could_ smile.  Then, once they’re done, Darcy skips off again, leaving them to what she can only perceive as their contented misanthropy.

 

* * *

 

Sif’s been having a great time barging into various rooms and doing her very best impression of Football Jock Thor.  It’s been a big success, especially with people who knew Thor in college or even who had heard stories about him back then.  She’s feeling pretty good about herself, and makes a mental note to bring Frigga flowers the next time she’s at Thor’s for dinner.

But also, to her embarrassment, she keeps glancing around for Melinda.  Not creepily, at least she thinks so, but just...keeping tabs on her.  She’s half-hoping that they’ll have a chance to talk tonight about something that’s not work-related - not that Sif handled herself well during their last conversation, but she’s determined to do better.  And as she wanders through the house in search of Pepper, she catches sight of Melinda, Darcy, and Natasha taking selfies in their gorgeous princess costumes and wishes for a moment that she, too, had gone for one of the stereotypical “girl” costumes.

 _I’ve never seen her look that relaxed_ , she thinks, watching Melinda smile and do ridiculous poses in a way that just intensifies her crush. _I wonder if she could ever be that way around me._

“Are you okay?” comes Jane’s voice behind her.

She realizes how silly she’s being and, chuckling, turns around.  “Ah, yes, I’m fine.  Sorry, I was just…”  And then she trails off, because there’s not really a good explanation for that.

“Lost in thought?” Jane provides.  “I get that.  Even at big parties like this, it’s easy to get caught up in your own head sometimes.”

“Yes, that,” says Sif, relieved that Jane’s given her an out.  “Hi.  Are you having a good time?”

“I am, surprisingly,” Jane agrees.  “It’s not really my thing, partying I mean, but this is a lot more casual than I thought it was going to be.”

“Especially for being at Stark’s place.”  Sif laughs.  “I confess I was half-expecting some sort of Gatsby-esque extravaganza.”

“Given the rumors, that seems reasonable,” Jane smiles.  “But enough about the apparent lack of all that.  I just wanted to tell you how awesome your costume is.”

Sif grins.  “Thank you!  I thought it was rather ingenious and I’m glad you agree.  Yours is lovely too.  I always was fond of Lois.  She’s very clever.”

“Thanks,” Jane returns, suddenly almost sheepish.  “I mean, most people just see her as the superhero’s girlfriend, so it’s - it’s nice to hear she’s appreciated, I guess.”

“Oh, please.”  Sif rolls her eyes.  “The people who say that have no understanding of the Superman mythos beyond maybe the newest movie, and that’s hardly the benchmark.”

“Still,” Jane says with a shrug. She lets a comfortable silence settle over them for a second, but as she watches Sif watching the crowd she’s suddenly struck with a thought about what or who Sif might be watching.  Blame Darcy and her need to poke her nose into everyone else’s business, which Jane will never admit to appreciating even if she does (at least insofar as it keeps her aware of things she’d otherwise miss out on entirely).  So, lamely, she offers, “Lots of great costumes tonight, huh?”

Sif nods.  “Definitely.  It seems everyone put a lot of work into them.  Or thought, at least.”

“Yeah,” Jane says.  “Natasha and Melinda’s princess dresses are incredible, especially.”

“They are,” says Sif, and it comes out more as a sigh than she means it to.  Quickly, hoping Jane hasn’t noticed, she continues, “And they seem like they’re having a lot of fun in them.”

“I’ve been there,” Jane says before she can think better of it.  “It’s not fun, but you’ll get through it.”  She lets her smile grow larger, more reassuring.  “Actually, you’ll probably kick its ass.  You’re tough like that.”

Startled, Sif replies, “Thank you?”  She’s more than a little mortified and hoping Jane’s the only one who’s caught her mooning over Melinda like a lovesick teenager.  Although she knows Jane’s not the most socially adept, so maybe that’s a sign that everyone’s figured it out and she’s not as subtle as she thinks.  “Damn,” she mutters.  “I tried not to be obvious about it.”

Jane winces sympathetically.  “You’re not,” she exclaims, then immediately lowers her voice in the interest of being conspiratorial.  “It’s Darcy’s fault, she told me, but it’s not that anyone else knows!  She’s just impossibly nosy.  But I mean, I can’t blame you, it’s Melinda May, she’s… well.  Worth being infatuated over.  Not that you need my approval, but.  Yes.”

Sif smiles despite her embarrassment.  She finds Jane’s tendency to wordvomit when nervous impossibly endearing, and her desire to reassure Sif even more so.  “Well, I appreciate that,” she says.  “I...I doubt anything will come of it, though.”

“You don’t know that,” Jane points out.  “It could happen.  You’re kind of a catch, you know.”

“You’re quite something yourself,” says Sif with a wry smile.  “Don’t tell Thor I said that.  He still occasionally pouts about the girl he liked in sophomore year that chose me instead.”

“Your secret’s safe, I promise,” Jane smirks.

 

* * *

 

“James, hold still.  I need to pin this together and you’re not helping.”

“You keep poking me!”

“Because you won’t hold still.”  Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Steve, please explain to him how that works.”

“Better do as she says, Buck,” says Steve, laughing and tugging at the collar of his baseball uniform.

“Fine,” whines Bucky, sounding like a teenager.

“‘Thanks for fixing my costume when I ripped the seam like a dumbass, Natasha,’” says Natasha, doing an exaggerated impression of Bucky.  “‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Natasha.  Certainly not fix it by myself because I can’t sew at all.  How can I ever repay you?  Perhaps with a promise of eternal servitude or a year-long supply of baked goods on demand.’”  She switches back to her normal voice.  “Why yes, I’d like that very much!  Cookies every week, please.  I’ll text you with my order on Sundays.”

Sam and Steve are chortling as Bucky glares at her, and even Sharon is hiding her giggles behind her hand.

“Man,” Darcy exclaims, skipping up and planting her butt on the arm of the couch they’re all surrounding.  “That’s a pretty sweet deal, Nat.”

“Right?  All because I’m such a good person,” quips Natasha as she slides the last pin into place.  “There you are, Tin Man.  Remember, I like gingerbread cookies best.”

“Hey Darce!” says Sam, waving his entire arm (since his costume makes it difficult to wave just his hand).  “That’s a kickass outfit.”

“Why, thanks,” Darcy grins.  “I’ll take any chance I can get to be an interplanetary warrior.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”  Sam clears his throat and then does his very best Peter Cullen impression.  “Autobots, roll out!”

Steve, meanwhile, has started rubbing Bucky’s back.  Almost absentmindedly, as if he’s doing it out of habit. Tonight Bucky’s apparently decided to incorporate his prosthetic arm into his costume rather than try to work around it, as he’s dressed as a slightly more high-tech version of the classic Tin Man.

Darcy can’t help but notice the backrubbing, and in her unmistakably Darcy way, she turns to Sharon, who’s currently standing the closest.  “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Uh, sure,” Sharon says, because she’s pretty used to those.

“Okay, so…”  Darcy waves a hand in the direction of the others, currently magnetizing to each other (and shit, but it’s funny to see Anastasia and Optimus Prime buddying up).  “Who here is banging?  I feel like there’s some banging going on here, and I’m usually right about these things.”

Sharon coughs, trying to hide how wide her eyes are.  “Excuse me?”

“I mean, no big if it’s not, like, an open secret,” Darcy continues.  “I just don’t always hear the Gap gossip, y’know?  And these guys, there’s _something_ going on here.”

Point of fact, there is, but Sharon doesn’t entirely know what or how to describe it.  Hell, Sharon’s sort of been invited to join in and she still doesn’t know exactly what she’d be joining.  So after clearing her throat again, she concedes, “They’re close.  We’re close.”

“Like… _we’re close_ we’re close?” Darcy presses.

Sharon blushes.  “Ask them,” she says.  “If you dare.”

“Noted,” Darcy chuckles, but it is her, so she might take that dare eventually.  She spins around to survey the rest of the guests - not that everyone’s in this one room, but there’s a fair amount of activity - and, loud enough that it makes Sharon giggle, calls out, “ _Heimdall_!  Get your butt over here, dude!”

Heimdall, dignified as always in some form of homemade armor with a fur-trimmed black cloak thrown over his shoulders, comes over to join her.  “Hello there, Darcy!”

“So, buddy,” she begins, “what’s the tally?”

“Three,” he sighs.  “Every time I inform them that I am Dolorous Edd, and only one of them recognized the name at all.”

“See, that’s their loss,” Darcy declares.  “I mean, yeah, Jon Snow is cool and all, but Dolorous Edd is hilarious.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he replies, smiling.  “I rather like this cloak.  I’m considering wearing it for everyday occasions.”

“That’d be kinda fierce,” she agrees.

All this while, there’s been music playing through Tony’s far-too-expensive speakers.  It’s seemed like a pretty standardly top 40 set of songs, not exciting but not offensive either.  At that moment, though, there’s a slight pause that indicates a switch in CDs and the telltale opening notes of “Thriller.”

“Fuck yeah!” Darcy shouts, jumping off the sofa.  “C’mon, guys!”  

Sam shuffles over and enthusiastically starts doing the dance as best he can in his costume (which is still pretty well).  No one can see it, but he’s mouthing the words under his mask. “Tasha!” he calls.  “You know you want to!”

“Really don’t, thanks,” she replies, looking affronted at the idea.

“It’s not that bad,” Sharon chuckles, sliding forward to join the dance and surreptitiously tugging on her red Rosie the Riveter bandana.

“That’s the spirit!” Darcy exclaims, clapping approvingly.

“I’m very comfortable where I am,” says Heimdall from the couch.

“You’re being a spoilsport,” Darcy retorts.

“No one will fall over if I don’t dance,” he says lightly.

And Darcy just shrugs in concession, trying not to grin too much.  “Well played, Edd.”  She lets her gaze travel over the room; even Steve and Bucky are attempting to work through the dance, though it’s clear that neither of them know exactly what they’re doing.  So far, a success.

And then she notices a new pair of people very much abstaining in the doorway.

“Victoria,” she shouts, breaking formation to bound over and start dancing right in front of them.  “Victoria’s girlfriend, I’m guessing.  Come on, it’s ‘Thriller’ and it’s Halloween and that means you have to dance.”

“Isabelle,” corrects the woman in the white dress, “and no, we don’t.”

Darcy is unfazed.  “Please?” she wheedles.  “Oh!  And we should totally get Nat and Melinda over for more royalty selfies.  Queen of Hearts and… and the White Queen, right?”

“Right,” Victoria says dryly.  “But that still doesn’t mean you’re going to get us dancing.”

Suitably, the track ends and switches to “Just Dance,” which makes Darcy grin.

“Did you put together this nonsense?” Victoria asks, taking in the smug look on the younger woman’s face.

“You bet I did,” Darcy agrees. “And seriously, you’re not going to listen to Lady Gaga’s suggestions?”

“If I do, check me for a fever,” Victoria deadpans.

They’re a lost cause, Darcy decides, so she skips off with a wave (and makes a mental note that Victoria has damn good taste) to go check in on the others.  It’s her stupid mix CD, she feels responsible for making sure that everyone’s having fun while it’s on.  Nobody who refused to dance has changed their mind, and Sharon’s paused to sip on her bottle of Mike’s Hard Cranberry, but Sam has moved to join Steve and Bucky in their little corner of the most adorably horrible dance moves known to man, so that’s sorta cute.  Cute enough to creep on and then eventually join, anyway.

Until the track switches again.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE BABE,” someone yells, and Skye barges into the room with Jemma in tow.

“WHAT BABE?” Darcy shouts back.

“THE BABE WITH THE POWER!”

“WHAT POWER?”

“THE POWER OF VOODOO!”

“WHO DO?”

“YOU DO!”

“DO WHAT?”

“REMIND ME OF THE BABE,” Jemma jumps in, her grin turning almost sneaky.

“What the fuck?” interjects Isabelle, as the actual song begins.

“I am so sorry,” Victoria mutters, squeezing Isabelle’s hand in apology.  “This is the hazard of working with babies.”

“Oh I’m not offended, it’s mostly just funny,” Isabelle replies, smiling at her in a way that almost looks out of place on her face.

“Still,” Victoria murmurs.  “We don’t need to stick around any longer than you want.”

“I’m fine,” says Isabelle, “but my god, Victoria Hand being acquiescing.  Never thought I’d see that.”

“The pattern could continue later tonight,” Victoria replies, dropping her voice teasingly.

Isabelle makes sort of a purring growl in her throat. “I’d like that very much.”  She reaches up to stroke Victoria’s hair, carefully since it’s arranged precisely, but in a way that makes her affection obvious (and something along the lines of possessive).

Meanwhile, Skye’s been bopping around to “Magic Dance” quite happily, but she’s also been watching the exchange, completely riveted.  “I ship it,” she says to Jemma, who’s sort of shuffling around in a vague approximation of a dance.

“What are you talking about, Skye,” Jemma mumbles, though she’s glad of the opportunity to stop making a fool of herself trying to move about.

“Them.” Skye nods to Victoria and Isabelle, who seem to be too engaged to notice that Skye’s been staring at them.  “They’re hot.  I ship them.”

“You can’t _ship_ people,” Jemma exclaims.

“Watch me.”  Skye grins.

“You know if she found out she’d throttle you,” Jemma points out.

“And she’d be very hot while doing it,” Skye says cheerily.  There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Besides, unlike some of us, I don’t care, goody-goody.”  She nudges Jemma with her shoulder affectionately.

“Excuse me!” Jemma squeals.  “I just don’t feel comfortable… _supposing_ things about real people.”

Skye snorts.  “What is there to suppose?  They’re totally dating.  And basically about to jump each other right there, check out that eyesexing.”

“I know they’re dating,” Jemma defends.  “Obviously, Victoria wouldn’t have brought her to the party if they weren’t dating.  I just…”

“Just what?”  Skye’s voice has gone a bit gentler.

“I don’t know,” Jemma says, bringing hands to her face.  “I just feel odd about it.”

“You sure that’s all you feel odd about?”  Skye’s smirking.

“What else would…”  Jemma trails off, entirely realizing where this is going, and blanches.

“I knew you’d get it, you’re a smart girl.  That’s why I love you.”  It just sort of slips out of Skye’s mouth, she’s not thinking about it, and for a moment she just sort of blinks at Jemma, a bit nervous.  They haven’t said that yet and it’s possible she’s just royally fucked up.

“O-o-oh?” Jemma whispers.

Skye nods, still nervous.  “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Jemma repeats, this time in a squeak.  “I, I.  Ah.  I.”

“Uh, we can pretend that didn’t just happen if you want,” says Skye quickly.

“No,” Jemma rushes.  “I mean.  No, we don’t have to pretend.  I, I love you too.  I do.  Yes.”

Skye smiles.  “Oh good, cause I was getting worried there for a sec.”

“Oh,” Jemma repeats yet again.  “Well, I.  I don’t want you to worry about that at all, or about anything really, but this at least is in my control, so I can guarantee.  Or try to guarantee.  I definitely do love you, and I’m really very flattered you love me too because I thought I’d been jumping to conclusions, because of course it would be easy to get caught up in loving you because you’re very loveable, and.  And.”

Before Jemma can talk any more, Skye grabs her face and kisses her.  It takes a minute for them to come up for air, during which Darcy notices and wolf-whistles.  Once they’ve finally stopped, Skye rests her forehead against Jemma’s and says, “Definitely not jumping to conclusions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://unwind-myself.tumblr.com/post/99890495728/costume-inspiration-for-chapter-11-of-connect-the) are vague approximations of the store-bought costumes, and inspiration pictures for the rest.
> 
> And [here](http://8tracks.com/unwindmyself/darcy-s-1-best-halloween-party-mix-ever) is Darcy's playlist.


	12. but I'm sick and tired of your poisonous ways, your toxin wasting perfectly good space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of 4 of Tony's Halloween party. Awkward flirting is interspersed with an unwelcome guest and a frightening encounter that no one could have predicted.

“We’re absurdly late,” Loki points out as he holds the door open for Lorelei.

Lorelei rolls her eyes.  “Sweetie,” she says, “that’s entirely the point.”

“I see,” he says, still somewhat confused but unwilling to let it show on his face.  “So should we...that is, we came here together and I’m not quite sure what you were thinking…”

Of course he’s not.  It’s sort of funny to watch him squirm, but it’s more to the point that she’s not actually watching him at all as she runs her tongue over the points of her false fangs and replies, “It’s not a date, kid.  We mingle.  That’s what you do at parties.”

“All right,” he says, nodding.  “Well, thank you for, ah, escorting me to the other party.  I suppose this is where we part ways for now?”

“For now,” she agrees.  She finally looks at him, her expression somewhere between amusement and pity, and says, “I do hope you had a good time.  I thought those friends might be rather up your alley.  And I hope you manage not to be miserable here.”  Then she tosses hair over her shoulder and saunters off in the direction of the bar.

Loki chuckles and strides purposefully in the opposite direction.  Eventually he comes upon Sif and Fandral playing an intense-looking game of ping-pong while various groups drunkenly cheer for them.  Unfortunately for him, he enters the room just as Fandral smacks the ball particularly hard and it connects with Loki’s face quite abruptly.

“AUGH!”

“Oh, terribly sorry,” says Fandral, not looking sorry at all.  “I suppose that round was a dud.  Well, never mind, I shall have victory!”

Sif snorts.  “The only victory you’ll have tonight is in drinking the most of anyone here.  Or of failed serves, that’s your fourth.”  She retrieves the ball from where it’s rolled behind the door and then, almost as an afterthought, looks sympathetically at Loki.  “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he grunts, sliding in behind May and Natasha (perhaps if Fandral serves poorly again they’ll shield him from further harm).

Satisfied with that answer, she serves the ball and a new round begins.  It’s clear that Sif wasn’t exaggerating earlier, as Fandral’s motor control is shoddy at best.  Every now and then he manages to get in a lucky hit and score a point, but mostly Sif seems to be taking it easy on him, out of pity maybe.  She only really puts effort into about every third hit, and every time she does she smiles in the way a warrior does when they know their opponent has played right into their hands.  Once or twice she glances behind her when there’s particularly exuberant cheering, as if hoping to catch the eye of someone in particular.

“Oh, come on, Fandral, don’t let her beat you!” says Volstagg cheerfully, and perhaps a bit patronizingly.  “You know you’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Please, I’ve lured her into a false sense of security!”  Fandral lunges for the ball, only barely managing to tap it before it hits the table.  “Any moment now the tables will turn in my favor.”

“Or any moment now he’ll lose his balance,” murmurs Natasha to Clint and Melinda, who are standing on either side of her.  Clint only barely stifles his bark of laughter and Melinda smirks.  Even Hogun, who’s allegedly cheering on Fandral, lets a small smile creep across his face.

Sure enough, the game lasts only a few more rounds before Fandral wobbles and then crashes, only narrowly missing the table.  “Very well, I concede,” he groans from the floor.  “But you must admit, it was a hard-won victory!”

“Of course,” says Sif, rolling her eyes.  “I’d say a 15-3 game was hard-won indeed.”  She turns to grin and bow exaggeratedly at the four behind her, who clap obligingly.  Well, Clint claps and whoops appreciatively and Natasha and Loki join in with the clapping after a moment.  Melinda nods at her, but from the smile on Sif’s face Melinda might as well have been cheering loud enough to drown out the other three.

 

* * *

 

Fitz and Trip have been walking through the house casually, just chatting and almost-but-not-quite touching but walking really close together, and Fitz is about to remark how he almost didn’t come tonight but Simmons made him and he supposes he’s glad he did, when they wander into the room that has music blasting out of it and they’re greeted with “ _I got a feelin’, ooooooohhooo, that tonight’s gonna be a good night_ …”

Fitz winces instinctively.  “Good lord, that’s loud.”

Trip’s looking around the large and overly lavish room, which has a pool in the middle and way too many couches around the outside.  “Damn, I didn’t know Stark had a pool,” he says, then, noticing Fitz’s discomfort, he adds, “We can keep moving if you want.”

“ _Boys_!” Darcy shouts, skipping over with far more grace than she ought to be capable of given how much she’s possibly had to drink.  “Join the dance party!”

“Nope,” says Fitz flatly.

Trip laughs.  “We’re good, thanks, Darce.”

“ _Pleeeease_ ,” she wheedles, putting her hands on her hips. 

Just then the song ends and a telltale “OOGA-CHAKA OOGA-OOGA-OOGA-CHAKA” chant begins.

“NOPE,” says Fitz, more emphatically.

“You’re no fun,” Darcy shouts, then turning to add in a rush, “Jemmagetyourbuttoverhere!”

And in a flash, a breathless Jemma appears at Darcy’s side, Skye’s hand twined in hers.  “What?” she asks before turning to the boys and asking, “Have you found anyone else who got the costume yet?”

“Hm?  Oh.  Ah, no,” says Fitz, looking a little caught off-guard.  “But it’s okay, I’ve been having a nice time.”

Skye grins.   “Oh really?”

Jemma rather sharply elbows Skye’s side before saying, “Good!  I’m glad of that.”

Darcy, who’s been looking from person to person in this little exchange and getting increasingly surer of what she’s watching (and holy shit is it adorable), interrupts to say, “Jemma, make him have fun our way.”

“Your way,” Jemma corrects with a fond roll of her eyes. 

“You’ve been dancing,” Darcy defends.

“Not of my own volition entirely,” Jemma says, giving Skye a pointed look.  In return, Skye makes the most innocent face she can, although she’s about five seconds away from cracking up laughing.

“You’re having fun,” she adds.  “Right?”

Jemma goes bright red, or she feels like she does anyway, which could account for the way she hides her face behind her hand for a moment.  “Yes,” she chokes out.  “But if Fitz doesn’t want to dance, you probably shouldn’t make him.  You haven’t been exactly successful at getting people to do that tonight, Darcy.”

“That’s because half the people here are giant buzzkills,” Darcy declares, and she takes Trip’s hand to get him to twirl her before she spins off.

Fitz, having just noticed Jemma’s complexion, gives her an odd look.  “You’re bright red, are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine!” Jemma exclaims a bit too quickly.

He looks unconvinced.  “All right, then.”  He sort of shifts his weight, then starts, as if he were expecting Trip to be next to him and is thrown off by the lack of him.  Trip’s only taken a couple of steps back, but it was apparently enough to throw Fitz off.

Trip looks down at him in concern.  “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” murmurs Fitz, flushing a bit and looking at the floor.

Skye is starting to look like she might start giggling villainously at any moment, so Jemma, looking entirely horrified, tugs on her hand a bit more firmly and exclaims, “Drinks.  Let’s.  Let’s drinks.  I’d like drinks.  Come on.  Catch up with you two later!” before pulling Skye away in the direction of the minibar set up in a corner of the room.

Trip smiles at Fitz.  “Why don’t you go get a seat in one of those couches over there and I’ll get us some drinks.”

“All right,” says Fitz, still clearly nervous but smiling up at him again.

They spend several songs sitting together on a couch, sipping from their beers and smiling awkwardly at each other, before Melinda and Natasha slip into the room.  Coulson, who’s been awkwardly dancing in one corner for a while, stiffens as if he’s been shocked and then starts to shuffle his way over towards her.  “Huh,” says Trip, his interest piqued.

“What?” Fitz asked, relieved to have a potential topic of conversation.

“Oh, Darcy has some crazy bet going based on who’s gonna end up wth Melinda May,” explains Trip.  “I guess it’s between Coulson, Hill, and Sif.  Personally, my money’s on Coulson.”

“I see,” says Fitz, looking a little shocked.  “I had no idea they were all interested.”

“Oh yeah,” chuckles Trip.  “I mean, I don’t really care, but it’s something to keep an eye on anyway.  I think she called it the bisexual romcom?  If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll win tonight.”  He keeps his eyes fixed on the scene.

Melinda and Natasha are surveying the room with identical expressions of mild disdain on their faces, although probably that has more to do with the NSYNC song currently playing than anything.  Coulson, meanwhile, has moved into their vicinity while dancing in the truly embarrassing way only people 35 and over can achieve.  “Great party, huh?” he says, smiling at Melinda in a hopeful schoolboy sort of way.

“It’s definitely something,” replies Natasha, glancing from Melinda to Coulson and back again.

“You both look great,” he continues, still gazing at Melinda.  “Did you make that dress yourself, Melinda?”

“Yes,” she says, giving him a half-smile.  Natasha, seeing the smile, relaxes slightly but continues to eye Coulson like a wary feral cat.

“It looks exactly like the one in the movie. I’ve always liked Mulan, literary inaccuracies aside.”  Coulson’s practically shaking from nerves, but he keeps talking, possibly to his detriment.  “And it looks wonderful on you. I mean, I don’t just say that for the obvious reason,” he laughs, “but you just - you have this really noble warrior sort of air to you, you know?  I’d trust you to save all of China, or anywhere really.”

Natasha makes a kind of strangled noise that she manages to cover with a cough, and meanwhile Trip barks a laugh.  “Oh man, he was doing okay and then he just crashed and burned,” he says quietly to Fitz, who looks as if he can’t decide whether to laugh or pity Coulson.  “Maybe I should’ve bet on Sif after all.”

Melinda, shockingly, looks amused.  “Thank you, I suppose.  That’s...flattering.”

“Well,” comes Maria’s voice as she waltzes up behind them, a beer in one hand, “I got the old guy in a cab home.  He insists that’s the reasonable thing to do, but hell, I’m not working till the evening tomorrow, I can stay out past curfew.”  She’s incredibly at ease with this whole situation, with the way that the others are or aren’t reacting, and, completely ignoring her fellow security officer (because honestly, if you’re a mall cop, going as a secret service agent for Halloween isn’t even trying), she turns to Natasha and Melinda, nodding to both of their dresses.  “You’re putting the rest of us to shame, you know.”

“What, this old thing?  Just threw it on last minute,” Natasha replies playfully.

“Please,” Maria rolls her eyes.  “You just can’t resist the opportunity to show off the fact that you’re good at everything.”

“You flatter me.  Besides, no need to get competitive, there’s no contest or anything.  And anyway, I quite like yours, Captain Hill.”

“That has a nice ring to it,” Maria declares, taking a sip of her drink before shifting her attention towards Melinda.  “This fabric you used is gorgeous.  Where do you find stuff like that?”

“Trade secret,” replies Melinda, smirking.  “But thank you.  I’m pleased with it.”

Coulson, after spending a moment with a truly pathetic expression of confusion on his face, shuffles away as if hoping no one has noticed the events of the past few minutes.

Darcy, who of course has been watching this too, leans over the back of the sofa that Jemma and Skye have planted themselves on for the time being and whispers, “ _Woh woh_.”

“Don’t be mean,” Jemma immediately murmurs, but there’s no real determination behind it.

“I dunno why you’re so concerned with who Officer Dad is hitting on, but oh my god I’ve been googling Victoria Hand’s girlfriend and her name is a fucking pun!” announces Skye, waving her phone in the air triumphantly.  “Isabelle Hartley. _Hart_ ley, get it?  Like, she’s the heart and Victoria is the hand?  This is like something out of a shitty romance novel, I love it.”

“You saw what Victoria is dressed as, too,” Darcy adds.  “The Queen of Hearts.”

“So many puns, oh my god.”  Skye’s practically vibrating with excitement.  “It’s _punception_!  BWAAAAAAH.”

“Did you seriously just make the _Inception_ noise,” Darcy mutters, reaching to ruffle Skye’s wig before coming around front of them and planting her ass in the fraction of sofa left available.

“Like you wouldn’t have if _you’d_ thought of it,” replies Skye, making a face at her.

The telltale beginning of “Ice Ice Baby” is punctuated by the sound of someone from an entirely different part of the house screaming “WHAT THE FUCK.”

To which Darcy just reacts with a smug smile, leaning back against the couch and putting her arms up behind her head.  “This is a success,” she declares, letting her eyes wander over the crowd - most of the guests have migrated into the room by this point, but upon catching sight of one of the newest-appeared she jumps right back off the couch and shouts, “Be right back guys, I just thought of something really important I have to tell Heimdall,” then runs off.

Mystified, Jemma shrugs and scans the room for what that might have been set off by, but then again, Darcy has so many obscure inside jokes with everyone that it’s hard to keep track of them.

She’s about to turn to Skye and continue their conversation from earlier when there’s a shout from the door and none other than Grant Ward, clad in something that’s probably meant to resemble the sort of outfits that the Natives in _Peter Pan_ wore, ambles in.  “The party has arrived!” he yells to no one in particular, and then, spotting Skye and Jemma, makes a beeline for them.  “How are you, ladies?” he asks, blatantly eyeing them both.

“Honestly?  Better before you opened your mouth,” says Skye.

“Aw, there’s no need to be like that. We’re all here to have a good time.”  Ward swings his prop tomahawk and then turns to Jemma, probably hoping to have a better reception.  “You’re looking good, Jems. I’m really digging the schoolgirl uniform.”

“Jem _ma_ ,” she corrects under her breath, because only people she likes are allowed to use nicknames with her.  “And it’s not a schoolgirl uniform, it’s a Hogwarts uniform, ta much.”

Ward blinks.  “You’re using your Britishness against me.  The accent’s hot, though, can’t deny that.”  He looks at Skye.  “As for you, you should wear leather pants every day.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” hisses Skye.

“What are you?  A biker?  Buffy?  Nah, can’t be Buffy, you don’t have the hair.”

“I’m sure the hair and the leather pants are the only things Ward even knows about Buffy,” Jemma mutters in Skye’s ear, rolling her eyes vehemently.

The comment makes Skye laugh, but by the time she turns back to answer Ward her teeth are bared again.  “I’m Joan Jett from the Runaways, you ignorant fuckhead.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that movie.  She was pretty hot.  She was a lesbian, right?”

“ _You’re not even worthy to say her name, you piece of_ -”

She’s interrupted by Steve’s very loud and very earnest exclamation from across the room: “Wasn’t this song just on?”  It’s noticeable enough that everyone’s attention turns that way and there’s quite the audience as Sam shakes his head and murmurs something, prompting Steve to scrunch up his eyebrows and listen to the song playing for a minute before going “oh.”

“Doesn’t everyone know that’s how ‘Under Pressure’ starts?” asks Ward.  It’s a perfectly innocuous question, but he manages to make even that sound incredibly douchey.

“Doesn’t everyone know that it’s not okay to use an oversimplified cultural appropriation as your Halloween costume?” Jemma retorts, taking Skye by the hand and leading her toward the tower of tiny orange and purple cupcakes in the corner.

Momentarily confused, Ward stands there for a surprisingly long amount of time before the gears in his brain apparently start to work again and he retorts, “I’m a sexy Indian warrior, thanks very much!” before striding after them.

“Bollocks,” Jemma whispers to Skye.

Trip and Fitz, who have been watching the whole ordeal, glance at each other.  “Er, would you mind if I…” says Fitz awkwardly.  “That is, I feel like I should go help...not that they need my help, they’re very capable, but I just…”

Trip reaches out to pat Fitz’s arm reassuringly, then pauses.  “Is it cool if I, uh, pat your arm or whatever?  I know some people don’t like to be touched that much.”

“Oh!”  Fitz looks at him with wide eyes.  “I...ah, that’s fine.  I don’t...I don’t normally like being touched but you can, sure.”  He smiles almost apologetically.

With that permission, Trip gently pats his arm a couple of times before saying, “I get what you’re saying.  Let’s go over there and make sure they’ve got everything under control.”  He stands up, then turns and offers his hand.  “You want help getting up?  These couches kind of suck you in.”

Fitz stares at his hand for a second before grasping it and hauling himself to his feet.  After he’s standing, he keeps hold of Trip’s hand for another few seconds before blushing and letting go.  “Er, thanks,” he mumbles.  Trip smiles kindly at him before they head for the cupcake table.

Jemma and Skye have attempted to deal with Ward by pretending that he doesn’t exist, which is difficult because he’s aggressively trying to get them to talk to him.  Skye looks like she’s about five seconds from jumping him, and Jemma about five seconds from letting her.  “How are things over here?” asks Trip, hoping to divert Ward’s attention from the beleaguered girls.

“Been better,” mutters Skye, looking grateful.

At that moment a new song starts and in unison Jemma and Fitz say “A traditional Earth ballad!” delightedly.  Trip chuckles and while Skye looks a little confused, Ward looks utterly lost.  “What?” he asks, and everyone ignores him.

“I don’t get it,” says Skye.

“Oh!  Well, let me explain!  You see, ‘Toxic’ is used in _Doctor Who_ , series one, episode two, ‘The End of the World,’” Jemma exclaims, then launching into what she considers a succinct retelling of the episode’s context.

Ward, apparently deterred by in-depth explanations of cult television minutiae if nothing else, doesn’t even make it through a minute of Jemma’s explanation before wandering away.  He doesn’t make it far before almost tripping, and when he looks to see the cause of that tripping he sees Raina standing a few feet away, having shed an enormous purple flower in his path.  Or anyway, that’s what he assumes, given that she’s standing there innocently twirling the end of a garland of the things that’s wrapped around her waist.

“What the fuck?” he asks, more out of confusion than accusation.

“What?” she replies, fluttering her eyelashes at him.  “It must have fallen off.  DIY costumes fall apart sometimes.”

Across the room, Darcy has finally located Heimdall and swoops in to whisper in his ear, “See?   _She was flowered and terrible and flowered_.”

Heimdall laughs for the first time that night, and possibly for the first time in a while.  “She is that, indeed.  And red as well, tonight.”

“It’s like she knows,” Darcy replies, waving her hands and making her voice wobble in some cartoon approximation of spookiness.  She doesn’t take her eyes off of the woman in question, though, probably hoping she does something else worth punning about, but what happens next is possibly even better.  Or worse, depending.

Lorelei, who’s currently working the hell out of these skintight pants and knee-high boots and a corset that must have been made just for her because how else would it fit so brilliantly (and Darcy knows she’s a horrible person for noticing that but what’s a girl to do), saunters up beside Raina and whispers something in her ear.  Something that makes Raina raise an eyebrow in that - that creepy way she has that makes it look like she knows the secrets to destroying the world and _actually giggle_.

“That is truly unsettling,” says Heimdall, his eyes widening.

But before anyone can make any further comment on the unholy alliance unfolding before them, Ward starts pelvic thrusting towards Darcy to the beat of “Anaconda.”  “This song kinda sucks, but it’ll do, huh, Darce?” he calls.  At this, Heimdall narrows his eyes and glances at Darcy as if checking to see whether she’s going to take this on or if she wants his help.

Ward, oblivious, keeps thrusting at Darcy.  “I mean, Nicki Minaj is a shitty rapper, but she’s got a great ass on her so at least this song is good for something.”

“Excuse you, sir,” Ian exclaims, slamming a bottle of Smirnoff down on the bar as he pops up from behind it (it’s a surprisingly forceful gesture and tone for someone currently dressed as Samwise Gamgee).  “You really shouldn’t-”

Darcy shakes her head and looks at Ian before mouthing, “I got this.”  That done, she leans forward and shakes her shoulders at Ward, shimmying him in what he apparently doesn’t realize is the direction of the pool.

“Hey, great!  You’re the first one to dance with me.  Everybody else is being a bitch,” says Ward with a grin.

Darcy smiles wide, puts her hands on his waist to turn him so she can grind up against him from behind.  “Aw, I’m sure that’s not true,” she croons.  “I’m sure you were able to _make_ plenty of girls dance with you at whatever sad little gang party you came from.”  Before he can say anything further, Darcy pulls back, spins into a kick, and firmly plants her foot against his ass so hard to push him forward into the pool, shouting, “ _In the name of Nicki Minaj, I will punish you_!”

The shout, as well as the yelp and splashing from Ward, are enough to cause everyone in the room to look, and then start applauding.  Tony runs in too, still carrying his helmet.  “Dudes, what the hell?  I told my dad we wouldn’t be getting in the pool in our costumes…”  Upon seeing Ward flailing in the pool like a drowned rat, he grins.  “Oh.  Never mind.”

Ward finally manages to haul himself out of the pool by his arms, sputtering the whole way.  “She attacked me!” he gasps, pointing at Darcy, who is looking very pleased with herself.  “What the fuck?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure it was provoked,” says Tony.  “Anyway, I don’t remember inviting you, Tonto.  I’d say she was just helping her host out by getting rid of a party crasher.  Which, yeah, you should probably beat it before I sic Jarvis on you.”

Ward, dripping wet and radiating ineffectual anger, heads for the door.

Pepper, who’s come in to see what all the commotion was about and arrived just in time to hear Tony’s threat and see Ward stalk past, says quietly, “I didn’t know you could ‘sic’ Jarvis on anyone.”

“One of his many advertised but not present benefits,” Maya deadpans, strolling by and casually twirling her straw in her glass before she goes on her merry way.

“I mean, probably I could get him to target the sprinklers.”  Tony shrugs.  “It didn’t need to be a legitimate threat, just enough to get the jackass out.”

“Don’t buy Darcy a gift basket,” Pepper says.  “I know you want to, but it probably wouldn’t send the best message.”

“Gift basket?”  Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Socially conditioning her into taking out your human garbage,” Pepper rolls her eyes.  “I know how you think.  I’d suggest something smaller, more subtle.  A gift certificate, maybe.”

“Noted,” says Tony.  “But hey, if she’s willing to do the job for free…”

“You have a reputation to uphold,” Pepper counters.  “She can’t be the only person you never bribe, after all.  That would send the wrong message too.”

“Ooh, fair point.  I should hire you as a life consultant or something, clearly you know how this PR business works.”

“Lots of practice selling people things they might not actually need, that’s all,” Pepper points out.

Tony’s about to say something more, but he’s distracted by a sudden burst of laughter from nearby.  “Did you see that imbecile leaving?  He was soaking wet and he looked so unhappy!  It was delicious!”  It’s Loki, crowing gleefully to apparently the closest person who will listen to him (Heimdall, who’s looking somewhat uncertain about this new development).  “I have waited years for someone to show him what it feels like, and finally someone delivered!”

“You are very intoxicated,” observes Heimdall.

“Yeah, uh, you okay there, buddy?” asks Tony, torn between wanting to make sure Loki doesn’t actually start in on more destructive drunken shenanigans and wanting to keep his distance.

“Tony,” Pepper whispers.  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No, but we’ve already had someone thrown in the pool tonight,” Tony points out.  “It’s my job to keep the drunken shenanigans to a minimum, or something.”

“Oh I’m fine,” slurs Loki, turning to Tony and Pepper and making it very obvious that he is indeed very drunk.  “Who are you, my father?  Oh wait, my father’s not even my father!  Did you know that?  Because I didn’t, until very recently!  He wouldn’t even tell me, I found out by _accident_!  Do you know how it feels to grow up with a brother who can do no wrong, and then find out that he’s not even your brother?”

“Ah, no,” says Tony, thinking quickly, “but my dad’s not exactly gonna win any Father of the Year awards either.  Um, are you sure you don’t wanna come sit down, away from the expensive decor?  What are you dressed as, by the way?  That is a kickass suit.”

“ _I’M SHINJI IKARI, YOU BOURGEOIS FUCK_!”

And then Thor, mercifully, appears in the doorway with Jane lurking behind him.  “I do believe it is time for us to take our leave,” he says, smiling apologetically at Tony and Pepper.  “Come, brother, you have had enough to drink tonight.  I think I will call Mother and take you home to her in the morning.”  He manages to steer Loki, who is still ranting about _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ , toward the door.  Jane gives Pepper a little wave goodbye before darting after them.

Everyone else in the room, who had been watching the encounter, looks at each other in slight confusion.  “What the hell is a Shinji Ikari?” asks Natasha.

“Don’t ask, he’s from an anime,” says Clint with a roll of his eyes.  “Daddy issues out the ass.”

“Hey guys!” Darcy exclaims, reaching to grab Ian from behind the bar so she has someone to bop around with.  “It’s the song from _Space Jam_!  Nobody’s yelling anymore!  Everyone’s good!  Let’s play basketball against aliens!”

“Why would you play basketball against aliens?” Steve asks, perplexed.  “Do they even have basketball in outer space?”

“Of course they do!”  Clint looks affronted at the very idea that there is no basketball in outer space.

At this point most people either go back to awkwardly dancing or refusing to dance at all.  Darcy has roped Ian into enthusiastically dancing with her, and while he looks a little confused he goes along with it and even seems to be enjoying himself after a few minutes.

“Well, that was all very interesting,” Raina murmurs to Lorelei.

“After a fashion,” Lorelei concedes, shrugging.  “I probably should have cut him off at some point.”

“I didn’t realize that you were babysitting tonight,” Raina counters.

“Hardly,” Lorelei says, but that’s all there is to say about that, in her opinion.  That particular arrangement takes more explaining than she cares to do, especially right now.

“Hey, I have a question,” Raina says after a moment, turning to study Lorelei’s face more intently.

And Lorelei just raises an eyebrow.  “Shoot,” she says, because she’s pretty sure she can guess where this is going (and she’s very sure of that).

“Wanna make out?” Raina asks sweetly.

Okay.  That’s not actually what Lorelei was expecting at all.  Usually it’d be a guy making that proposition (because they’re really the _most_ predictable) and usually if it hadn’t been her idea it wouldn’t be a question, it’d just be a suggestion.  So she’s a little suspicious to say the least, but - though she won’t outright admit it - somewhat intrigued.  She doesn’t know Raina all that well (because she doesn’t know anyone all that well if she can help it) but given the strangely sincere look on her face, she’s pretty sure it’s a genuine offer.

And hell, what’s it really going to hurt.  Raina’s cute in a vaguely psycho killer kind of way.

“Why not,” Lorelei says.  She’s expecting that Raina’s going to wait for her to make the first move, somehow, because of that look in her eyes maybe, but once the permission is given, Raina pivots on her heel to face Lorelei, then immediately wraps an arm around her shoulders and goes in for a kiss.

Clint, who is the first to notice because he’s been keeping an eye on Raina all night - he _will_ prove she’s definitely not a ghost if it’s the last thing he does, dammit - makes a frightened whimpering noise.  “What the hell’s going on?”

Raina, for her part, is getting very comfortable with this very quickly.  It’s not like she’d planned this - she hadn’t really even thought about Lorelei in any conscious way for more than a few minutes before tonight - but she’s also not one to ignore her impulses.  And when a pretty girl walks up and starts talking to her about how stupid men are, making out seems like the most relevant impulse.

So she’s running her tongue over Lorelei’s lips (her fangs are disappointingly blunt), she’s pulling her closer and grinding their hips together, and she knows she’s doing something right when Lorelei actually wraps an arm around her waist, careful not to crush her wings, and starts really _participating_ in the kiss.

“The fuck?” Skye asks, eyes wide.  “I can’t tell if that’s hot or terrifying.”

“What,” Jemma mumbles, because she’s been very busy studying the label of her hard apple cider so as not to have to participate in the Space Jam.  And then she notices and immediately shudders.

“This can’t lead anywhere good,” says Sam.  Steve says nothing but he’s gripping Bucky’s hand so hard that his knuckles are white.

Sif, who wandered into the room at some point during “Space Jam” and had been floating on the edge of the room somewhat awkwardly, opens her mouth and makes a small frightened noise that no one and least of all herself could’ve suspect her of being capable of making.  Melinda, who’s standing nearby, says sympathetically to her, “This is unsettling.”  Sif snaps her jaw shut and nods, turning to Melinda with wide eyes.  She wants to enjoy the attention Melinda is giving her, but she can’t because the scene in front of them is too frightening.

Everyone in the room has noticed, and most people’s expressions are somewhere along the range of unsettled to horrified.  Darcy has even stopped dancing, and she doesn’t even bother to keep her voice quiet when she says, in reference to the song now playing as much as the events in front of her, “This shit really is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s.”

And it’s probably a good thing that neither Raina or Lorelei seem to notice that everyone is whispering about them.  They know everyone is looking (Lorelei assumes, within reason, that someone is always looking at her; Raina just knows how these parties work) and neither of them seem to care.  But after a moment, Raina has to pull back to take a breath, which allows Lorelei the chance to whisper, “Just how drunk are you?”

“I’ve been drinking orange juice all night,” Raina shrugs.

“...and vodka?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t smell like that store you work in.”

“Good call.”

Lorelei blinks, shocked at how shocked she is by this revelation and even more shocked by the way that Raina dives back in to start kissing her throat.

“I have the weirdest boner,” announces Tony.  “But like, out of fear mostly.  A _fearboner_.”

“Stop talking before you do something you’re going to regret,” Pepper hisses.

But the damage is apparently already done, as Lorelei takes this opportunity to peer over Raina’s shoulder, give Tony a scathing once-over, confirm that what he’s saying is true, and let out one of her terrifyingly throaty chuckles.  “ _Men_ ,” she declares in a voice like velvet.

Raina turns to look behind her and follow the remark, then starts giggling.  “How basic,” she says.

“You getting as tired of this as I am?” Lorelei murmurs against Raina’s neck.

“I really am,” Raina agrees, then after what amounts to a series of significant looks, she lets her hand slide from Lorelei’s shoulder and down her arm, then laces their fingers together.  “Lead the way,” she adds.

And Lorelei does just that, practically parading Raina out of there as everyone attempts to go back to business as usual.

“Did… did everyone see that?” Jemma whispers, sounding scandalized.

“Maybe they’re both ghosts,” says Clint.

“They… they just left,” Jemma says.  “ _Together_.”

“I thought you didn’t care about the affairs of others,” Skye teases.

Fitz shrugs.  “They probably left because of what Stark said. Can’t blame them, really.”

“I can’t either,” Jemma says.  “That was a step too far for sure.  But… but they’re _holding hands_.”

“You’re being ridiculous.  They’re allowed, they’re adults.  Clearly consenting adults.”

“Consenting adults who, with their combined… powers might well be able to make the world implode,” Jemma sighs.

Trip looks at Skye, then nods at Jemma as if to say _you’d better get some food in her_ , and Skye nods in return.  “Hey, Jem, let’s go get some pita chips or something,” she says gently, grabbing Jemma’s hand and leading her towards a different, significantly quieter room.

“See, this is why parties are terrible,” Fitz deadpans to Trip.  “Especially with alcohol. Very loud, unsettling public displays of affection, and Simmons gets all weird when she’s had too much to drink.  I hope you don’t mind if we don’t go to another one for a while.”  Then he seems to realize what he’s said, and coughs.  “Er, that is...if I don’t go to one?  That you’re at?”

Smiling, Trip pats his shoulder.  “No worries, I know exactly what you mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://unwind-myself.tumblr.com/post/100483892413/costume-inspiration-for-chapter-12-of-connect-the) are vague approximations of the store-bought costumes, and inspiration pictures for the rest.
> 
> Immediately followed by [you're speaking like scissors cutting out a foreign pattern](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/5559782).


	13. cause I could live by the light in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of 4 of Tony's Halloween party. As the night winds down, there is dancing and typical as well as atypical displays of affection.

Mike seems to have just sidled into the room to inspect things, or possibly look for lost personal items (there is going to be an impressive collection of those at the end of this party), when Sharon waves him over.  “Hey,” she greets.

“Hey,” he says, smiling.  “Sharon, right? How’s the night treating you?”

“It’s been pretty nice,” she says, because with the exception of that slightly baffling exchange she had with Darcy earlier, all of her personal experiences tonight have been.  “I heard you had some cute pictures of your son to show off?”

“I do,” he says, pulling his phone out and flipping to them.  “He was Robin.”

“Aw,” Sharon exclaims, grinning.  “He’s adorable.  Mind if I…?”  And she waits for Mike’s nod before waving Steve and Sam over to admire the pictures too.

“That’s a nice costume he’s got there,” comments Sam, smiling as Mike shows him.  “Cute kid.”

“He’s lucky to have you for a dad,” Steve adds.

Mike smiles shyly.  “Thanks, I mean, I try to do right by him.”

Bucky and Natasha, noticing their people have wandered away, come over to see what’s going on.  “That costume is quite small,” observes Natasha, as if she’s not sure what to say about Ace that will be complimentary.

“He seems happy,” says Bucky, equally at a loss for socially appropriate small talk.

“He was thrilled,” replies Mike.  “I was amazed he agreed to take off the costume when we got back - last year he insisted on sleeping in his T-rex costume.  Which reminds me, I actually need to get back.  I had to leave him alone since my sister couldn’t babysit, but he’s just sleeping anyway.”

“Don’t let us keep you,” Steve says cordially.  “But we’re always happy to hear about Ace’s adventures.”

“If you feel like sharing,” adds Natasha, with a quick eyeroll in Steve’s direction.  She knows he’s eager to please everyone by discussing their favorite topics, but, well, this one might be less socially acceptable to show an interest in, depending on the context.

As Mike slips out, the familiar soft opening of “Call Me Maybe” starts and Darcy joins in.  “I threw a wish in the well, don’t ask me I’ll never tell, I looked at you as it fell and now you’re in my way…”

Everyone within hearing distance groans.  “Must you do that?” calls Fitz.  Trip squeezes his hand in sympathy.

“I must,” Darcy chirps, then twirling over to the bar for an empty bottle to use as a microphone.  Rather haplessly, Ian trails after her, and Sam says “Nice job, man” in sympathy.

“That’s cute,” Sharon murmurs, settling back against one of the couches their group had claimed earlier.

“Cute, or maybe absurd,” Sam chimes in, grinning.  “Could really go either way, considering it’s Darcy.”

“I think it’s cute,” Sharon defends.

Natasha sits down next to her on the couch and wraps her arms around her, pulling her not quite onto her lap but as close as she can get.  “You’re awfully cute when you’re optimistic.”

“She’s almost always optimistic,” Steve points out with a smirk.

“Draw your own conclusions.”  Natasha looks almost like she’s daring him to.

He seems like he’s about to, but Bucky’s too busy grabbing him around the waist too.  They flop onto the other couch and Sam, refusing to be left out, shuffles over and awkwardly drapes himself over one of the arms so that he can touch both of them at once.

“You know, I can’t decide whether Darcy’s serious with this mix or she’s just trolling all of us,” he adds after a moment.

“You don’t think both are possible?”  Natasha smirks.  “It’s _Darcy_ we’re talking about, after all.”

He nods.  “Fair point.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone seems to be positive that it just couldn’t get more absurdly awkward than Darcy dragging Ian around the room doing some horrible fake square dance to “Cotton Eye Joe,” but then the next track begins.

“Is this a junior high school party?” Maria asks loudly, sighing dramatically and looking at Darcy with her patented security officer disapproval face.  “I think we can do better than Enrique Iglesias, Lewis.”

“Better hurry before all the good partners are taken,” Darcy crows with a smug smile before extending a hand to Ian and pulling him close.

Maria grumbles, but it doesn’t take long to realize that it’s a real danger.  In one corner of the room, Steve has started to lead Bucky in what’s possibly the actual sweetest slow dance ever witnessed (not that Maria would admit to such a thing) and moments later Sam offers his arm to Sharon.  On the other side of the room, Pepper is tapping Rhodey on the shoulder and curtsying invitingly to get him to dance with her.

And Phil goddamn Coulson is holding his hand out to Melinda with this blandly courteous smile he probably stole from one of the animated Disney princes.  The old ones who all looked the same.

“Would you, ah, would you like to dance?” he asks shyly.

Melinda kind of chuckles.  “Sure, Phil,” she says, taking his hand and letting him lead her closer to the center of the room.  He sort of hovers his other hand over her waist once they’ve started actually dancing, and it makes Maria kind of want to smack him.   _You’re not an eighth grader at his first dance, godammit!_

“Check out the parents,” Skye snarks quietly to Jemma.

“They look so strange,” Jemma whispers.  “Like the handlers let them out of their natural habitats for a few hours and they don’t know what to do.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” says Trip.  “And anyway, shouldn’t you guys be out there too?”  He grins playfully at them both.

“Shouldn’t _you_?” counters Skye.

Fitz flushes and Trip chuckles.  “No, we’re good here, but you two should go.  Make it all ironic or whatever.”

“Fine.”  Skye extends her hand to Jemma.  “Wanna slow dance to a shitty song?”

“You’ll have to lead,” Jemma says, going a little pink.

“No worries.  One of my foster moms made me take weird dance classes in middle school, said it would ‘broaden my horizons.’  Mostly what it did was let me dance with cute girls because there were like three dudes in a class of twenty kids, but I guess it’s useful now.”  Skye whisks her out onto the floor.

Maria is sighing and she’s sighing a lot.  The song is horrible, but everyone seems to be playing into the vibe of it and pairing off.  She’s about to go ask Natasha (they’ve danced together before, she knows how to handle her) when Clint steps in and takes that role.  She’s scanning the room for available partners; Tony is at the bar getting progressively drunker off his ass and like fuck she’s going to get near that, Fandral looks equally lonely but she knows how handsy he can get and she’s not in the mood, Sif is pouting until Hogun gamely offers himself as a partner.

But then she notices Maya, standing at the end of the bar and nibbling on the cherry from her drink, and why the hell not.  “Care to?” she asks, giving the kind of pseudo-courteous bow that matches her dandyish pirate getup.

“Oh, gee,” Maya says, putting a hand over her heart.  “Here I thought I was gonna be the class wallflower.”

“Glad to save you from such a fate,” Maria quips, pulling Maya close to her and taking up a very proper ballroom dance stance.

Across the room, Clint and Natasha are dancing like pros, both incredibly serious-faced (but anyone who knows them well would know that they’re about five seconds from cracking up at the ridiculousness of everything).

“You’re not going to get sick if I twirl you around a little, are you,” Maria whispers to Maya.

“It’s incredibly unlikely,” Maya promises, smirking as Maria lifts their arms and nudges her into a series of spins that also serves to get them across the dance floor.

“Graceful,” Maria muses.

“Why thanks,” Maya replies.  “I figure if you’re trying to show off, I might as well play my part.”

“Trying to do what exactly?”

“Show off,” Maya repeats.  “It’s cool, I understand.  Dip me.”

And Maria’s a little perturbed that her motivations were so obvious, but she’s not going to argue when they’re so close to Phil and Melinda and yeah, showing off was completely the point.  She obliges, dipping Maya dramatically as she can and silently thanking her for the way she keeps up that weirdly elegant manner she’s suddenly exhibiting.

Coulson, who happens to look up and notice Maria dipping Maya, seems to understand what’s going on and spins May somewhat abruptly, but she catches on fast and even manages to make it look somewhat natural.  They dance normally for a few seconds, and then he goes in for a dip too, crossing his fingers that Melinda will go along with it.  She does, and he almost drops her in amazement but manages to recover himself before it becomes obvious.

“I’m sorry, did I pass out and wake up in the weirdest romantic comedy ever?” Tony asks the nearest person, who happens to be Heimdall.  “This is a pissing contest with dancing.  I feel slightly uncomfortable but also riveted.”

“I have not had any alcohol and I am seeing this too,” replies Heimdall.  “And I am having similar conflicting feelings.”

“Okay, good.”  Tony takes another sip of his drink.

Meanwhile, Sam and Sharon are semi-awkwardly dancing together (Sam’s costume makes slow dancing impractical, but they’re doing their best) when Fandral slips up behind them and taps Sam on the shoulder.  “Pardon me, might I steal the lady for a bit?”  Sam nods and Fandral guides her away, doing his very best gallant lordly dancing.

“You know,” Darcy murmurs in Ian’s ear, “most guys would have flipped shit if I started leading.”

“Then they would be fools,” Ian declares.  “And not appreciating the fact that they were lucky enough to be dancing with you.”

It’s kind of a cheesy line, and Darcy objectively realizes that, but they’ve both had more than enough to drink to get them into a cheesy sort of mindset.  And it’s well-intentioned.  Pretty much everything that Ian says is well-intentioned.  And Skye and Jemma are totally getting some and there’s a whole foreplay orgy in the corner and a dance-off that may or may not end with their pants off on the other side of the room, and Ian’s sweet, and he’s cute, and he has that accent…

Fuck it.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” she says, just to see the shocked look in his eyes before she rises up on her tiptoes to do exactly that.

“Well,” says Trip, smirking, “maybe she’ll stop messing with everyone else’s love lives for a bit now that she’s got her own boytoy.”

“You’ve been spying on everyone all night,” comments Fitz, then looks worried about what he’s said.  It’s adorable and Trip’s not the least bit offended.

“Fair point,” he says lightly.  “Maybe this is the natural order of things.  There must always be some nosy bastard at this mall, and the duty’s fallen to me.”

“But...but you said a minute ago...er, I mean, if you think you have to be...unattached to be that...then…”  Fitz is twisting his fingers together anxiously, and he looks down at the floor, letting his sentence drop off.

“Aw, hey.”  Trip’s voice is gentle.  “I was kidding, mostly.”  He pauses.  He’s not quite sure how to phrase what he’s thinking, which is basically that Fitz is cute and interesting and he’s definitely into continuing this...whatever-it-is if Fitz is.  He’s definitely attached.  “And if those are the rules, then I guess someone else will have to take it up.”  He gently takes Fitz’s hand and squeezes it.

Fitz swallows and looks flustered, but not in a bad way.  “Oh, oh that’s...that’s good.  I - I’m all right with that.”

“Good.”  Trip smiles at him and Fitz smiles back.

Skye, who’s been guiding Jemma slowly in their direction in the most obvious eavesdropping attempt in the history of the world, sing-songs “Get a rooooooom” and then makes exaggerated kissing noises.

“You first!” replies Trip.

“Gotta wait for the Time Warp first, I promised Darcy!”  Skye spins Jemma away with a flourish.

Trip rolls his eyes and smiles good-naturedly, turning to Fitz to give him a _those two, right?_ look.  But then he sees that Fitz is acting anxious, flicking his gaze from one spot to another, and he says, “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

“I…”  Fitz swallows.  “I’ve got something to tell you, I suppose.  About myself.”

“All right, shoot.”  Trip is careful to look at him, but not directly into his eyes, because he’s learned that that bothers Fitz when he’s trying to articulate himself.

“It’s about...it’s about sex, I guess.  I don’t...I don’t have the same feelings that everyone else seems to about it.  I don’t - I’m not _attracted_ to people in that way, I guess.  Not that you’re not...oh bloody hell.”  Fitz looks as if he’s about to cry.

Trip reaches over and pats his shoulder.  “Don’t worry, I get it, I think.  I mean, I know there are people who aren’t wired that way and that’s totally cool.  Do you want me to back off, or…?

“No!”  Fitz blinks, as if shocked by his own outburst, but then he continues, “No, you’re...you’ve been great, you’re great.  I like...I like this, I like you.  I just thought you might, um, like to know, before you got too...involved.  I’ll understand if you can’t handle it though.  It’s pretty weird, I know.”

“No it’s not,” says Trip, gently taking Fitz’s hand.  “Sex is nice, but it’s not the end-all and be-all of everything.  I always kind of liked the other stuff just as much.  Hanging out with a person, getting to really know them.  Kissing and all that sappy shit.”  He laughs, then asks, “Would that be something you were into?  I just wanna be absolutely sure.”

Fitz is quiet for a long moment, staring at Trip with wide eyes.  Then he nods.  “Yeah, I - I’d really like that, with you.  That’d be nice.  But...slowly, maybe?  I’ve never...I mean, most people get scared off pretty early on, by Simmons if not by me, so this would be my first time doing any of that.  But I would like it.”  He smiles shakily at Trip and then winces suddenly.  “But, ah, I think I’d be more comfortable discussing this with literally any other soundtrack than Enrique Iglesias.”  The song abruptly changes to “Bad Romance.”  “I stand corrected.  Or Lady Gaga.”

Trip laughs and squeezes his hand.  “I read you loud and clear.  So here’s another important question for you... _Star Trek_ or _Star Wars_ , and why?”

 

* * *

 

Nobody is quite sure what to do during “Bad Romance,” to be honest, and there don’t seem to be any options but to stand there awkwardly mingling with the person who’d just been your slow-dance partner while watching Darcy and Skye scream “RAH RAH AH AH AH!  ROMA-RO-MAMA!  GAGA OOH LA LA!  WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE” at each other.  (Fitz is almost tempted to go rescue Jemma himself, but he’s sort of leaned against Trip’s shoulder and he’s very comfortable there. Jemma can take care of herself, he figures.)  This confusion means that when the Time Warp starts up, everyone is thoroughly relieved.

Or… some of them are relieved.  Of course Darcy is relieved, because she put the damn thing together, and all the other kids seem to know what’s up (with the direct exception of Ian, who stands there unapologetically jaw-dropped), and Natasha perks right up and steers Clint into the corner that the others of her little group haven’t left yet so they can all be excited together.  Sam takes off his Transformer head in order to be completely prepared.  Rhodey covertly pumps his fist in apparent glee, Maya starts grinning.  And everyone who apparently gets the joke is forming groups.

Everyone else looks… baffled.  Or non-responsive.

Sif, who vaguely recognizes the song but couldn’t tell you much besides its title, notices that those in the know have mostly grouped themselves in threes: Fitz, Jemma, and Skye; Clint, Natasha, and Sharon; and Sam, Darcy, and Maya.  This does nothing to lessen her confusion.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Coulson nudge Melinda and whisper, “Do you know what this is about?”  Melinda doesn’t answer, only smirks vaguely.

As the actual lyrics start, Sam, Clint, and Fitz all sing along, in various directions and with varying degrees of seriousness.  Sam serenades Heimdall and Tony in a goofy way, Clint appears to be as entirely committed as if they were onstage right at this moment, and Fitz is shyer but seems to know what he’s doing as he sings to Trip.  “It's astounding, time is fleeting, madness takes its toll, but listen closely…”

“Not for very much longer,” Jemma and Natasha and Darcy all purr, Jemma popping up over Fitz’s shoulder and Natasha swinging around Clint’s side and Darcy leaning forward giving Tony a very, very seductive look.

Which makes Tony whimper in a frightened way, “How fucking much have I had to drink tonight?”

The boys, meanwhile, have taken up their respective parts and have turned their attentions toward their Magentas.  Sam, finding it somewhat hard to maneuver in his costume and also less familiar with Darcy’s approach to the role, just turns to face her and they lean in toward each other.  Clint grabs Natasha around the waist as well as he can, and it’s obvious they’ve done this before, albeit not in bulky costumes.  And Fitz is jumping around Jemma doing high kicks and basically acting nothing like himself, before they put their palms together above their heads and then clasp hands in what appears to be a display of meticulously rehearsed choreography.

And then.

“LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN,” the above trios - and Trip, and Steve, and Bucky, and Rhodey, and Bruce, who apparently just materialized out of nowhere - shout ecstatically before hurrying to form the straightest rows they can manage.  Trip, after looking around for a second, realizes that no one else has stepped up to be narrator so he slips out of the line to take on that role just in time.  “It’s just a jump to the left!” he calls, and then everyone joins in.

“And then a step to the ri-i-i-i-i-ight,” they all sing, varyingly on- or off-key.

“With your hands on your hips!”

“You bring your knees in tight!”  And of course, everyone who knows what’s going on is doing exactly that.  Maria and Sif and Fandral are all attempting to join in, with moderate levels of success; Melinda and Heimdall are abstaining but with expressions like it’s completely their conscious choice to do so; Ian and Coulson are also attempting, obviously to try and impress their respective ladies, with much less success.

“But it’s the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane!”  

At this point the dance appears to break Tony and he slips off his chair onto the floor.  “Oh, all right, that’s fine, the floor is fine,” he murmurs.  “I won’t have to see that again, that’s fine.”  Pepper, who’s perched nearby, gently helps him up, turns him so his back is to the dance floor, and hands him a glass of water.

“LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN.”

At this point, the girls get to take a verse.  Darcy’s version is heavily reliant on waving her hands around mystically and posing like a pin-up, which makes lots of sense all things considered.  Natasha’s seems to be mostly comprised of rolling her eyes dramatically and flirting with Clint and Sharon.  And Jemma’s, as would match Fitz earlier, is stunningly accurate, which makes hers the most disconcerting display, given her usual all-too-sweet demeanor.

And then the third member of each bunch gets to play.  Or more to the point, Sharon and Maya each hop up on the nearest surface (Sharon on the back of a couch, Maya on an empty bar stool) and begin mouthing along while Skye perches on the arm of another couch and actually sings along, waving her hands through the air dramatically.

This continues through another chorus and Sharon, Maya, and Skye’s attempts to fake a tap dance routine, while Sif stares, riveted, and does her best to play along.  She vaguely recognizes the choreography from the one time Loki made her watch the movie but she couldn’t tell you what to do when, aside from the basic chorus moves.  And once they get to the end of the final chorus, everyone falls to the ground (carefully, since the floor is quite hard), and it’s quiet for about five seconds before a techno beat begins pulsing through the room.

Immediately Darcy is up on her feet clapping as if to rouse the others from their pseudo-fainting, then bursting into the dance that accompanies “Party Rock Anthem.”  Ian is the next on his feet, though he just stands and inches carefully backward as if to remove himself from the spectacle.  Sif continues to stare, this time even more baffled as she has heard this song about three times and has no idea what Darcy is doing with her body.

Skye, meanwhile, has scrambled to her feet in an effort to remove herself from the dance floor before she gets roped into more synchronized dancing, and whispers something to Jemma, who colors a bit but nods, before grabbing Jemma’s hand and saying “We’ll be back later.  We need...air” before darting out the door with Jemma behind her.

Bucky, though he threw himself into the dancing earlier, is starting to stare off into thin air in that way that Steve recognizes as meaning he’s getting overwhelmed, so he steps close enough to whisper, “Do you want to get some space?”

Bucky snaps his head around to look at him, eyes wide and startled, and then nods.

Steve glances around to get Sam and Natasha and Sharon’s attention, then raises his hand - currently making the “hang loose” sign - before leading Bucky toward the door.  Sharon springs up, needlessly dusts herself off, and hurries over to follow; Sam retrieves his helmet before following them; Natasha winks and salutes Clint, who gives her a wave from his position on the floor, before ambling after everyone else.

 

* * *

 

“So I was thinking,” says Isabelle, “that I could get on the bed with you on top.”

Victoria sets her glasses down on the dresser and turns with a raised eyebrow.  “Whatever you say,” she hums, though she doesn’t yet move.

“Oh,” Isabelle murmurs with a grin.  “I didn’t realize you meant you’d be acquiescing quite so soon.”  She strides over to the bed and arranges herself against a pillow, giving Victoria a good view of her lingerie, then beckons.  “Come over here.”

“What can I say,” Victoria muses.  “I’m committing to the mood.”  She tucks hair behind her ears, smooths her corset over her waist, and climbs on, slowly crawling up to straddle Isabelle’s hips.

“Excellent,” purrs Isabelle, reaching to pull Victoria into a kiss.  They’re not going to actually fuck in here, but they’ve got some time to have a little fun.

For the time being, Victoria just takes suggestion, keeping the pace that Isabelle sets and not doing much more than that; her hands stay pressed against the bed, supporting her weight as she leans against her girlfriend.  There’s a part of her that feels like a dumbass kid, sneaking off to make out at the popular boy’s party, but there’s a larger part of her that’s at peace with the fact that she’d much rather feel like a dumbass kid than watch actual dumbass kids make fools of themselves to that ridiculous soundtrack.

They kiss for a few minutes, and then Isabelle pulls back and whispers, “Play with my tits, darling.”  She arches her back to emphasize her request.

Victoria sits back slightly, lets one of her hands slide up over Isabelle’s side and cup one of Isabelle’s breasts.  “Yes?” she asks in a whisper.

“ _Yes_ ,” Isabelle groans.

“Oh, good,” Victoria smiles.  She skims fingers up over the exposed skin, then down over the satiny surface of Isabelle’s lingerie, before she leans back in and, watching Isabelle’s face carefully, presses a kiss over the fabric.

Isabelle makes a little content noise.  “More of that.”

‘All right,” Victoria whispers, and she moves to run her tongue over the top of Isabelle’s breast slowly before kissing the skin.

Every touch makes Isabelle sigh and wriggle a bit.  “’s good,” she murmurs, reaching to pet Victoria’s skin where she can reach it.

Victoria lifts her head just enough to show her smile - fond and altogether unlike the ones she pastes on in day-to-day life - before giving Isabelle’s breast more attention.  Her fingers continue to draw patterns along Isabelle’s side, but her lips and tongue stay engaged with Isabelle’s soft skin, and after a minute she dares to bite at her nipple through the fabric.

That earns her a gasp and then a moan.  “I’m going to request you continue with that when we’re somewhere where I can take off all my clothes without worrying about contracting something from the blankets,” sighs Isabelle.

That makes Victoria laugh in a thoroughly unladylike way, stifling the sound against Isabelle’s neck a moment before she returns to her original task.  “Request submitted,” she murmurs playfully.

Isabelle chuckles, tipping her head back and closing her eyes and enjoying her girlfriend’s attentions, when suddenly she hears giggling coming from down the hall.  “Shit,” she murmurs, unwilling to ruin the moment entirely but wanting Victoria to be aware of what’s happening.

“Shit,” echoes Victoria, staring at the door so intensely it’s clear she’d be locking it with her mind if that was possible.

But it’s unsuccessful, because the next thing they know the door swings open and Skye and Jemma are staring at them, Jemma looking shocked and horrified and Skye mostly just surprised.  “Shit!” yelps Skye, yanking the door closed again, and Jemma adds, “We’re very sorry!”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Victoria mutters.

“It’s all right,” says Isabelle, stroking Victoria’s arm.  “What were you saying about dumbass kids?  If you want we could leave and pick this up again elsewhere.  You were doing very well.”

 

* * *

 

Steve took the time to scout out a room an appropriate distance away from the festivities with a comfortable-looking bed earlier in the evening, in case Bucky or one of the others needed to decompress.  So he leads them there, and he and Sharon make themselves at home on the generous and soft bed, but Sam and Bucky just stand there for a moment.  “Um,” says Bucky, helplessly gesturing to the cylinder around his torso.  Sam, too, seems concerned about how to relax while wearing a robot suit.

“Here, boys, let me,” says Natasha gently, then remembers her own dress.  “Sharon, can you come unzip me?”

“Sure,” Sharon exclaims, hopping off the bed and immediately positioning herself behind Natasha.  She places her left hand on Natasha’s shoulder and unzips the dress with her right, very carefully as suits the fabric, then moves back to allow Natasha to step out of the dress.

“Thank you,” says Natasha, brushing her hand against Sharon’s arm affectionately.  “Okay, c’mere, Tin Man.”

She helps Bucky maneuver out of the most unwieldy parts of his costume and then runs her hand through Bucky’s hair.  “There, you’re good. Now you, Optimus.”

“Thanks,” says Sam, setting his mask on a convenient shelf.  Sam’s costume takes a bit more work to get out of since it’s in multiple pieces and somewhat delicate, but eventually he’s stripped down to the skintight black lycra suit he’s wearing under it.

“Okay, everyone good?” Natasha asks, and waits for a moment to make sure before flopping onto the bed herself with a sigh.

Or, she’ll be there until they figure out how they’re arranging themselves tonight.  It’s always interesting, the logistics of cuddling when there’s more than three people, and adding Sharon means that they have to reconfigure themselves yet again, although no one minds.  Steve’s stretched out on his back and Sharon’s nestled up on his right side, and Bucky takes the opportunity to splay himself out so he’s at an angle and covering Steve’s lower half, grabbing Steve’s hand as soon as he’s able.  Sam spoons Sharon from behind, letting his hand rest on Steve’s chest, and so Natasha crawls over on top of all of them until her head is pillowed on Sam’s hip, setting one hand on Sharon’s abdomen and the other on Steve’s ribs.  They all settle in, making little grunts and sighs of contentment.

“This is nice,” Sharon whispers, trying to pretend she didn’t sound quite so surprised by that fact.

“Yeah,” says Bucky.  “Thanks for...for doing this, guys.  It helps a lot.”

“Of course,” Steve replies.  “You know we always have your back, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”  Bucky strokes the back of Steve’s hand with his thumb.  “You’re all great, you really are.”

“You are too, James,” murmurs Natasha.

The conversation drops off after that, aside from small mumbled affections here and there.  Natasha feels so warm and safe that she actually thinks she might nod off - and then the door abruptly opens.

She raises her head to see who the intruder is, giving them her best intimidating smirk.  Skye and Jemma peer in, wide-eyed.  Skye giggles nervously.  “He-hello,” Jemma squeaks.

“Hey there,” purrs Natasha, enjoying their confusion perhaps too much.  “Care to join?”

Jemma lets out another squeak, this one not even a recognizable word.

And Skye, before Jemma can freak out any more than she already is, gently pulls her out the door and closes it behind them.

“What was that?” Steve mumbles.

“Friendly banter,” replies Natasha, nestling back into her old spot.

“Really?”

“I’m friends with everyone, Steve.”

 

* * *

 

When the first notes of “Get Lucky” play, Tony doesn’t immediately recognize the song.

Why would he?  The group costume was Rhodey’s idea, and Tony’s aware of Daft Punk, obviously - he had the _TRON: Legacy_ soundtrack on repeat for months after the movie came out, even if the movie wasn’t that great - but he doesn’t have time to memorize their entire oeuvre, okay, he has a _life_.

But Rhodey, who’s mostly left him alone while they’ve been in the same room, comes over and taps on his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, buddy,” says Tony, giving him a lazy grin.  “Having a good time?”

Rhodey points at Tony’s helmet, then Tony’s head.  Then he gestures in a vague way towards the speakers like it’s supposed to mean something.

“Uh, Rhodey, I’d better warn you right now that charades was never my best party game.  I was always better at bobbing for apples.”

Pepper rolls her eyes.  “This is a Daft Punk song, Tony. Rhodey wants you to put the helmet on and go dance with him.  It’s the least you can do after avoiding him all night.”

“Ohhhh.”  Tony shrugs and plops the helmet on.  “Okay, might as well.  Just promise me, no more pelvic thrusting.”

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Darcy murmurs, blindly reaching behind her to push things out of the way.  She’s not sure what she’s pushing, exactly.  Coats, vacuum cleaners, hatboxes, golf clubs, whatever rich people keep in their closets.  “You really are pretty much Brad Majors.”

“Excuse me?” Ian says, his brow furrowing.

“The guy from _Rocky Horror_ ,” she clarifies.  “He’s the square who winds up at the crazy party with all the dancing aliens and stands there going ‘huh?’ before they take his clothes off.”

“My clothes are still on,” he points out.

“But you definitely went ‘huh’ at the party with the dancing,” she counters.  “And you’re definitely a square.”

“I don’t think you mean that in a nice way,” he says.

“Aw, honey,” she exclaims.  “I mean it in the nicest way.  I think it’s cute.  Also, that means I get to feel all… devious about corrupting you in the closet.”

“Hey,” he exclaims.  “I might be a square, but I’m not… I’ve been corrupted before.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow, runs her fingers up his neck and over his scalp, gives him a look that’s either amusement or a challenge.  “Sweetie, you know nothing,” she says.

“Wanna bet?” Ian asks, then before Darcy can say anything about it he drops to his knees, pulls down the little white boyshorts she’s wearing, and puts his tongue to work.

When she tells her children this story (because of course she is, she’s going to be the most embarrassing mom… though it’s more likely she’ll be telling her nieces and nephews this story, because she might not even have kids, that’s still way up for debate), Darcy is going to make sure to point out that the faint strains of “Get Lucky” are playing in the other room.  That’s kind of the cherry on top.

As it were.

It’s a little less poetic that it continues into “Gangnam Style,” but she figures that makes it very of its time.  And also the longer the song goes on, the less attention she’s paying to it, because true to a form she kind of just said as a joke, Ian is actually really, really good at this and she’s fast losing the brainpower to process anything but his mouth on her.

And then the closet door swings open and she hears Skye gasp, “Whoops, sorry!” before it slams shut again.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Darcy can hear Jemma shouting through the door.

Luckily, though, Darcy is more amused than anything, and she actually starts to giggle before she hears Ian’s slightly lost-sounding “What was that?”

“No one and nothing,” Darcy says, quickly getting herself together.  “Hey, if you can make me come before the _High School Musical_ song, I’ll go home with you.”

 

* * *

 

“I think everyone at this party must have planned that they were going to all… all _get busy_ at the same time,” Jemma is saying.  “And, and Victoria is, I mean she was, I thought she was going to kill us.  I really did.  She must be so mad.  And I don’t even _know_ what Natasha and… everyone, what they were… where did Sam put his robot suit?  I didn’t see it anywhere, but he definitely couldn’t have been wearing it so I’m sure I’m not remembering that incorrectly, and oh my goodness do you think Darcy was really…”

“Honey,” murmurs Skye, gently taking Jemma’s face in her hands and pressing their foreheads together.  “Sssshhh.  You’re freaking out.”

“But we…”

“We picked a bunch of already-occupied rooms...and closets, it’s no big deal.”  Skye moves one of her hands to pet Jemma’s arm.  “We’re both okay, and hell, stuff like that happens at parties all the time.  Getting walked in on is part of the experience or something.”

Jemma’s eyes dart nervously around the room they’ve managed to find like she’s half-expecting someone to walk in on them just on principle.  “I know,” she says, even though she clearly didn’t or if she did she wasn’t thinking about it.  “I just feel bad.”

“Awww.  Don’t, okay?  Hand’ll get over it, and Darcy’s chill, and I think Natasha was just fucking with us.”  Skye jerks her head meaningfully toward one of the fancy couches in the room.  “How about we get comfortable and I’ll calm you down?”  She punctuates her statement with a lusty grin.

Jemma lets out a sigh.  “Keep talking,” she says, which is her _I’m too tired to flirt properly_ way of flirting.

“Okay,” says Skye softly, gently leading her to the couch and making sure she’s settled before sitting down herself.  She reaches up to pet Jemma’s hair and continues, “You make an amazing Hermione.  You’re so much like her, kind of a know-it-all but in a charming way and so loyal and brave and just...good.  You’re a really good person, Jem.  I’d definitely ask you to the Yule Ball.”  She giggles at her own reference.

“Oh,” Jemma breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans into Skye’s touches.  “Thank you.  You’re, you’re very sweet to me.  I definitely think next year we should think of something we can dress as together.  Fitz was giving me hell about it before we left, saying I was wasting an opportunity to do one of the only official _couples_ things he doesn’t find appalling.”

Skye snorts.  “Well, maybe next year _he’ll_ be part of a couple’s costume too.  A Dalek and a Cyberman, maybe.  That’d work, there’s a height difference.”  Then, because she knows Jemma will get huffy about that, she leans in and kisses her, swallowing her indignant squeak.

“You obviously need to watch more of the show if you think that would at all work,” Jemma mutters, then leans back in, nipping at Skye’s bottom lip as they kiss.

Which earns her some delighted noises from Skye.  “Ooh, feeling frisky tonight?” she says, her voice low.

“ _Mayyy_ be,” Jemma replies, bringing her hand to rest on Skye’s waist.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“Reciprocate, of course,” growls Skye, moving to kiss and bite at Jemma’s neck.

Jemma whimpers.  “Do - _again_ ,” she sighs out.

“All right,” Skye purrs, sucking at the skin just under Jemma’s jaw before giving it a nip.  “Since you asked for it and all.”

 

* * *

 

“I just saw the last cab full of guests drive off,” Pepper announces, striding into the pool room.  “Every room has been checked for reluctant and-or stubborn and-or lost partygoers.”

“Oh good,” says Tony, smiling the smile of someone who’s had far too much to drink.  “So we can get to the good stuff now.  Whaddaya say, Potts?  Four out of five ladies recommend a Stark man for post-holiday coitus.”

“You did not just say that,” Pepper mutters.

“He did,” sighs Rhodey, who’s finally taken off his own helmet.  “He gets even worse than usual when he’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” interjects Tony.  “Look, I can do jumping jacks!”  He attempts, though the wobble as he nearly falls off his stool is less than convincing.

“Okay,” Pepper exclaims as she swoops in to steady him, one arm sliding around his waist.  “I think it’s bedtime for a certain Tony Stark.”

“Ooh, are you coming too?”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking,” answers Rhodey, letting Tony lean on him from the other side.

Tony pouts.  “I never get to have any fun.”

“You’ve had plenty of fun tonight,” Pepper reminds gently.

“True,” he replies, immediately perking up a bit.  “I’d say this was my most successful party in a while.  Dad’ll be happy we didn’t break anything, much.”

“What _did_ break?” Pepper asks, sounding alarmed.

“Oh I dunno, it was just a general assumption.  Rhodey, did anything break?”

Rhodey laughs.  “Of course you expect _me_ to know that.  One vase, I think.  Fandral was serving during ping-pong.  Dude’s got terrible aim.”

“See, there you go!  One vase broken.  I’d call that a success.”

“And no one threw up,” says Rhodey.  “This is an improvement over pretty much every other party you have thrown ever.  Let’s keep this crowd, they don’t barf or break shit.”

“I suppose those are good qualities to have,” muses Tony.

“They’re also helpful to have if you want to be successful in life,” Pepper says, nodding in a way that’s just a bit exaggerated to get through to the bleary playboy currently wandering along beside her.

Tony seems to be getting sleepy because he doesn’t offer a snarky comment, only nods.

They make their way upstairs and then Rhodey, who of course knows the layout of the upstairs better than Pepper, steers Tony towards his giant room at the end of one hall.  Once there, Rhodey directs Pepper to get Tony seated on the bed while he retrieves a pair of Tony’s satin pajama pants and one of the ratty T-shirts that he insists on wearing to bed. It’s like dressing a toddler, except this one is oversize and grumpier than even an actual sleepy toddler, but they manage it.  Finally they manage to get Tony situated in bed, and they’re about to leave when Tony whines, “Guys, I get lonely at night.”

Pepper tries to mask her complete confusion as she looks at Rhodey for a clue about what to do.  

Rhodey rolls his eyes and sighs.  “Do you want me to stay with you, buddy?”

“Will you?”  Tony suddenly sounds like a little boy afraid of the dark.

“Yeah, okay.”  Rhodey turns to Pepper.  “He gets like this sometimes, especially if he’s been drinking and his dad’s not here.  It’s not like Howard ever did shit for him like a dad should, but I guess being alone messes with his head?  Anyway, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want, I got this.”

Immediately Pepper’s expression changes to one of complete sympathy and (though she wouldn’t say it out loud, largely because she knows Tony would recoil and retaliate) pity.  “Of course I’m going to stay,” she says, unfastening the owl from her shoulder and setting it on a dresser.  “Mind grabbing some of those pajamas for me?”

Rhodey’s already rummaging in the drawers for both of them.  “Here, these...might not drown you?” he says, holding out some to her that are slightly smaller than the others.  Once she takes them, he takes a hanger from the closet and begins to take off his suit.

Pepper reaches for the pajamas, setting them down beside her owl while she takes the pins out of her hair and pulls her dress over her head.  She’s half-expecting some comment from Tony, given that all she has on underneath said dress is a pair of beige panties, but he doesn’t make a peep, not while she’s naked and not when she steps into the borrowed pants and pulls the shirt on.

She’s not sure exactly what comes next.  Part of her thinks they might just all climb into bed and see where they end up by the morning, but part of her knows it’s not going to be that simple.

“I’m gonna be in front, Tony, if that’s okay?” Rhodey asks gently.  “Or do you want something else?”

“No, that’s good,” replies Tony softly.

Rhodey lifts up the blankets and slides in next to Tony, holding him around the waist.  “You’ll have to get in on the other side,” he says to Pepper, sounding slightly apologetic.

“That’s fine,” Pepper says, scooting in and turning on her side.  It’s funny, because even if she _has_ gotten probably idiotically fond of the manchild in front of her she hadn’t envisioned tonight ending with her in his bed, much less spooning him while wearing his satin pajamas, but - well.  These things happen, and right now his mood has swung far enough in the wrong direction that she finds the child half of his descriptor sad and accurate, which means she doesn’t feel like he’s going to revert back to his crass self immediately.

So she drapes her arm over his waist, resting against Rhodey’s, and leans against his shoulder.

“I love you guys,” murmurs Tony, sounding utterly relaxed and drunk and as if he might nod off at any moment.

Rhodey chuckles.  “Yeah, you too, Tony.”

Pepper, meanwhile, is trying _not_ to chuckle, because she’s afraid of coming across mean or patronizing.  Instead, she just tightens her hold on Tony and chastely presses her lips to his shoulder.


	14. but take my love and and wear it over your shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip is invited to one of the babies' now slightly infamous movie nights and uses the opportunity to further discuss parameters with Fitz.

“So do you think we’d be good Jaeger pilots?” Skye asks Jemma as they lounge on the couch together.  Fitz has been sent to get the pizza (amid much complaining, but the die had spoken) and now they’re waiting for him to return or Trip to arrive, whichever comes first.

Jemma contemplates this very seriously.  “I think… yes,” she says.  “I think that nobody would expect how high we’d score together, but once we had done it would be hard to dispute.”

“Yeah, me too,” says Skye, running her hand through Jemma’s hair lazily.  “Plus, really the only thing that would’ve made that movie better was queer lady pilots.”

“I’m still hoping that we’ll get to hear the story of Nova Hyperion’s pilots someday,” Jemma declares.  “From what few teases we got, they were queer ladies.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t Highlander,” Skye teases.  “There can be more than one.  And we’d be kickass.  What should we name our Jaeger?”

Jemma looks as if she’s considering the question very seriously, but just then there’s a knock at the door.  “It’s open!” calls Skye, and a second later Trip peers in.

“‘Sup, ladies,” he says with an easy smile.

“Hello, Trip!” Jemma chirps, waving enthusiastically and making absolutely no effort to rise from the couch and Skye’s arms.

After dropping off his coat at the coat tree (that actually looks like a tree, courtesy of Jemma), Trip ambles over and sinks into the largest and most comfortable chair in their living room.  “Nice place,” he says. “Very nice chair.”

“Thank you!” Jemma says.  “It was one of our most amazing thrift shop finds if I do say so myself.  Didn’t even need reupholstered.”

“Ooh, sweet,” says Trip, glancing around the apartment.  “So do we know what movie we’re watching tonight?  And is Fitz gonna appear around the corner in a minute, all slick and handsome like in some romcom?”

“Oh, he’s getting the pizza,” explains Skye. “Which is actually convenient, because Jemma and I wanted to talk to you alone.”

For a half-second, he looks almost startled, and then slips back into his typical Trip low-keyed demeanor.  “Oh yeah?”

“It’s about Fitz,” Jemma says, and given that she sits up and primly folds her hands in her lap, it’s clear she means business.  “You two are… something.”

“A relationshippy kind of something,” adds Skye, rolling her eyes affectionately at Jemma.

“Yes,” Jemma agrees.  “A relationshippy kind of something.  Are you defining it more clearly than that yet?”

“Well, I was kind of hoping to talk to him about that tonight, actually.”  Trip smiles.  “He’s a special guy and I’d like to define it somehow.”

“Okay, what are your intentions here exactly?” says Skye, sounding more aggressive than she probably meant to.  “Because Fitz is...he _is_ special, and we care about him, and we wanna make sure you’ll be good for him and stuff.”

Trip nods. “Understandable.  My intentions are...well, I really care about him and I wanna make him happy, however I can do that.  He mentioned the no-sex thing to me and I wanna respect that.”

“Good,” Jemma declares very firmly.  “I have seen too many asshole boys trample on his heart because they couldn’t understand that, and I don’t stand for it.”

Skye reaches over and squeezes Jemma’s hand affectionately.  “I haven’t been here for any of that, but I could destroy you if I needed to,” she says to Trip.

“I don’t doubt it,” replies Trip.  He’s smiling a little despite himself, because the concern these two are showing for their friend is really sweet.  “If I ever hurt him, I’ll deserve that.”

“You will!” Jemma exclaims, back to that grin of hers.  

“And since all our threats up to this point have been vague, I’ll just say that if you hurt him, we will beat you to death with a shovel.”  Skye’s grinning too as she adds, “A vague disclaimer is nobody’s friend!”  Trip understands the reference, and laughs with her, but then she adds, “No but seriously, be good to him or we’ll end you.”

“I promise,” says Trip, just as the door opens and Fitz enters holding two pizzas.

“Oh my god, what are you two doing to my- to Trip?”

“Nothing!” Jemma says brightly.  “Pizza?  You’ve got the pizza!  Should I get the plates, then?”

“Yes,” says Fitz, glaring at her, before saying to Trip, “I’m sorry for this lot.  Out of control, the both of them.  Should’ve known they were trying to get me out of here so they could accost you with all manner of ridiculous threats.”

“It’s no big,” chuckles Trip, “we were just talking. Promise I didn’t feel accosted in the least.”

“And there’s nothing ridiculous about it,” Jemma smiles as she hops up and moves into the kitchen to find appropriate dishes.

Fitz grumbles to himself as he settles in next to Trip, which does not escape Skye’s attention.  “Awwwww,” she coos. “You two are so cute!” This does nothing to ease the grumpy expression on Fitz’s face, but he softens when Trip takes his hand casually.

“Don’t tease him,” says Trip, smiling.  “We both know what y’all get up to in the break room.”

Jemma sticks her chin out, faking an affronted expression.  “We get up to being cute everywhere,” she responds.

Fitz snorts.  “Disgusting, that’s what it is.  And while I’m in the same room trying to _eat_ , no less.”

“That was one time!” Jemma shouts.

“And I have an excellent memory,” he counters.

“I’d like to point out that we’re not the ones snuggling at the moment, when we are about to eat.”  Skye’s smirking.

“Plates!” Jemma exclaims, hurrying back into the living room with the objects in question.  “Let’s divvy out the pizza, which we can do now because plates!”

This distracts both Skye and Fitz enough that the argument is forgotten. Jemma returns to the couch and everyone takes some pizza, then Fitz picks up the bright green die that’s sitting on the table. “Pick your numbers,” he instructs. “I’m taking six and four.”

“Three and five,” says Jemma.

“Two and one for me then,” says Skye.  “Oh well.”

Trip watches with interest.  “This is for what now?”

“Deciding on whose movie we watch,” Jemma explains.  “This way it’s fair.  Even odds.”

“Clever.”  Trip nods.  “So what are the possibilities for tonight?”

“ _Snowpiercer_ , _Pacific Rim_ , and _How to Train Your Dragon_.”  Fitz looks somewhat less thrilled about the last one as he tosses the die.

It lands on a three. “Oh!” Jemma giggles.  “Well, you can’t argue with chance, can you?  Besides, it’ll at least be more upbeat than the snow apocalypse.”

“Yes, but I am a bit tired of listening to you go on about hypothetical dragon biology,” says Fitz with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ll go on very softly so you don’t have to listen, then,” Jemma offers.

“Actually, could I maybe have a moment alone with Fitz real quick?” asks Trip, almost shyly.  Fitz looks alarmed, but Trip gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and he relaxes.

Jemma and Skye exchange glances.  “Of course!” Jemma exclaims.  “We’ll just… go…”

“Name our Jaeger!” finishes Skye, grabbing Jemma’s hand and pulling her out of the room.

Fitz looks after them, a bit puzzled.  “That’s an odd excuse.”

“Well, it’s an important decision,” says Trip lightly.  “So. I wanted to, uh, talk to you about...us.  Where we’re going and what you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh!”  Fitz nods.  “Yes, of course, that’s important. Parameters. I...I appreciate your asking. So what do you want?”

“I want you to feel comfortable with me. I like being with you and I wanna keep doing that.”  Trip rubs his thumb against Fitz’s hand.  “But I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, so I thought I’d better check and see what you like and don’t like.”

“No one’s ever done that before,” says Fitz quietly.  “I...thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”  Trip smiles warmly at him.  “So. Hand-holding, I’m guessing, is okay?”

“Yeah.  I like that.”  Fitz grins.

“Is there anywhere you don’t like being touched when we’re close like this?”

“Nowhere specific?  Sometimes I don’t like pressure in certain areas, but I couldn’t tell you where exactly.”  Fitz looks almost apologetic as he adds, “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

“Okay, sounds good.  Kissing?”

“I think so.”  Fitz is back to that shy smile.  “I trust you not to take it too far.”

“I won’t, promise.”  Trip kisses the back of his hand.  “Just let me know if I do anything else to make you uncomfortable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.”  Fitz nuzzles into his chest.

“Are you guys done yet?” yells Skye from Jemma’s bedroom.  “We’re totally not listening at the door or anything, promise!”

Trip chuckles.  “Anything else you wanna go over?”

“No, no, I think that’s good.  You’re...you’re already doing better than anyone else.”  Fitz sighs.  “Thank you again.”

“Of course.”  Trip lets his hand rest on Fitz’s shoulder.

“All right, you nosy bastards, we’re done!” calls Fitz.

Skye and Jemma saunter back in, looking far too innocent.  “Good talk?” asks Skye casually.

“Yeah,” says Trip.

“Wonderful,” Jemma declares.  “Movie time, then!”

While she’s putting the movie in, Fitz and Trip adjust themselves until they’re nestled together comfortably.  Skye notices this and doesn’t say anything, but she decides that her goal for the evening is to take a covert picture of them snuggling because it’s basically the sweetest thing ever.

During the movie, Jemma keeps her promise and whispers most of her commentary into Skye’s ear, which Skye finds ridiculously cute.  And she likes the movie, so she’s paying attention to it - when she’s not glancing over at the boys.  Fitz gets progressively droopier, and Trip is gently petting up and down his arm which is no doubt helping to lull him to sleep.  Eventually she looks over and they’ve both apparently dozed off.  She hopes this lasts till the end because she really wants that picture.

Luckily, they seem to be pretty well passed out by the time the credits roll.  Skye’s ‘tearing up a little, although she’d punch anyone who tried to make her admit it (what? she’s a sucker for dragons), and after quickly destroying any evidence of actual emotion on her face she pokes Jemma and points at the chair where the boys are curled up together.

“Oh,” Jemma whispers in about the least-subtle way.  Conveniently, they’re sleeping heavily enough that they don’t hear, or at least it seems that way.  “That’s precious.”

“Right?” Skye grins.  “I’m gonna get a picture.”

“ _Skyyye_ ,” Jemma groans.  “You can’t do that!”

But Skye’s already slipped off the couch and is pulling up the camera on her phone.  “Can too,” she says, quickly muting it and snapping a picture.  Even the light from the flash only makes Fitz twitch a little, before burrowing into Trip more.

“It’s not like I’m gonna do anything with it,” she adds, grinning.  “I just want the evidence.”


	15. act like we all start over with a pristine slate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha extends a friendly hand to one of the mall's new hires and then a girls' night ensues.

“Oh my goodness,” Sharon whispers, sounding somewhat awed as she stares at the tall and unfairly gorgeous brunette.  “Who is that?” 

“That’s Bobbi,” replies Natasha, nonchalant.  “She’s new.  Transferred to our David’s Bridal the other day.  She’s cool.”

“You know her already?” Sharon asks, then rolling her eyes and laughing.  “Who am I kidding, of course you know her.”

Natasha laughs.  “Yeah.  She and I are old friends, of a sort.  It will be nice to finally meet her in person.”

“Of a sort,” Sharon repeats.  “Is this going to be one of those things you explain in further detail once we’re outside these walls but that you act coy about while strangers might be looking?”

“Maybe.”

Sharon sighs and glances at her watch.  “I’ve got to get going,” she says.  “Thanks for the ride this morning.”

“Of course,” says Natasha with a smirk.  “Why would I make you drive home from my house before coming over here?”

“The world is a mysterious place,” Sharon shrugs, then giving a wave and heading off in the direction of Charlotte Russe.

Natasha takes this opportunity to saunter in the direction of David’s Bridal.  She has about half an hour before she has to show up at the Gap, and since Bobbi doesn’t seem to be in a hurry she probably has a reasonable amount of time to kill too.  Might as well go over and properly introduce herself - not via Facebook friend request made at the behest of one of her other friends.

“Hey there,” she calls, and Bobbi turns, looking slightly confused.  “I’m Natasha.  One of Clint’s friends?  I mean, I’m sorry about that, but he’s probably the only person we have in common.”

By the end of that, Bobbi looks more like she’s trying to place the name than anything else.  “Have we actually met?” she asks.  “I’m not in the habit of forgetting faces.”

“Somehow we haven’t,” says Natasha, smiling.  “Mostly because Clint’s a dumbass and didn’t make more of an effort than badgering me into Facebook-friending you years ago.  Hi.  I see you’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”

Bobbi glances around the corridor, a smirk crossing her face.  “Oh, yeah,” she says.  “Twenty feet away from the constant smell of hairspray and the constant throb of sanitized punk music.  I’m on top of the world.”

Chuckling, Natasha replies, “Better than kids, maybe?  The Gap gets a lot of kids, being next to the Disney Store and all.  Somehow I usually end up having to deal with them.”

“I suppose that’s one of the advantages of bridal,” Bobbi agrees.  “Except the occasional flower girl or ring bearer, our clientele only hazards the adults who behave like children.”

“Ah yes, those are the most fun,” snarks Natasha.  “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d wanna come out to dinner tonight with me and some of the others who work here.  It won’t be anything fancy, but it might help you acclimatize?  Meet some people.”

“I’m off at six-thirty,” Bobbi says.  “That work?”

“Sounds good.  I’ll check in with some of the girls, see who’s available.  Meet us when you’re done at the Applebee’s across the street?”  Natasha looks almost apologetic when she adds, “Told you it wouldn’t be fancy, but sometimes we can con free drinks out of the bartender if we flirt with him a little.  You’re probably his type.”

“Now that sounds amusing,” Bobbi declares.  “Anyone else in the group whose face I’ll be able to attach to a social media profile?”

“No, just me.  Clint pretty much keeps to himself here, outside of when I drag him out to be social.”  Natasha rolls her eyes.  “See you then!”

“See you,” Bobbi agrees, nodding cordially before heading inside the store.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes after six-thirty, Natasha, Sharon, and Maria are chatting at a table when Natasha spots Bobbi and waves her over.  “Glad to see you,” she says, smiling.

Honestly, Bobbi is glad too.  She’s never been the sort who needs connections to feel satisfied, but she won’t turn down a friend, either, and that Natasha suggested Applebee’s for the meet-up is something of a comfort.  (People always assume that she’s much classier than she is as far as food is concerned, and it’s rarely worth dissuading them of the notion.)

“Hey,” she replies, waving just once as she approaches and helps herself to the empty chair across the table from Natasha.  “I assume that once again everyone knows my name before I know theirs, so I’ll just skip to asking that of you two.”

Maria chuckles.  “Natasha did mention that, yes.  I’m Maria.”

“Sharon,” offers Sharon, extending a hand and giving one of her student government smiles.

“You look familiar,” Bobbi muses as she shakes Sharon’s hand.  “Did we go to school together?”

“I don’t… I mean, I would have been a few years behind you, I think,” Sharon says.  “If you’re Nat’s age, about?  I just assume because…”  She shrugs sheepishly.  Because of what she’s heard about Bobbi’s history with Clint, she means.

“Sorry, it’s for the same reason I know you,” finishes Natasha with a wry smile.

“Right,” Sharon chirps, nodding.  “But, but anyway.  Sharon Carter.  Is my full name.  If that helps?”

“Oh!” Bobbi exclaims, grinning.  “Right, yeah.  Sharon Carter, budding star of the lacrosse team.  Unless I’m remembering another cute little blonde named Sharon Carter?”

Sharon assumes she’s gone bright red.  “That was me, yes,” she says, trying to regain a bit of her composure.  “Now I feel like an asshole for not remembering you.”

“If it helps,” says Bobbi, “my real name is Barbara.  I hadn’t figured I could trim it down in those days.  And I used to be a blonde.”

“Oh!”  It’s Sharon’s turn to have a moment of revelation.  “Debate team?”

“That’s right,” Bobbi smiles.

“So should we leave you two alone now?” interjects Natasha playfully.  “Maria and I are starting to feel like third wheels.”

“Speak for yourself, Romanov,” says Maria, smirking.  “I feel like I’m watching a romcom.”

“No!” Sharon exclaims.  “I mean, it’s fine.”  Suddenly she’s staring at Natasha’s face for signs that she’s somehow done the wrong thing.  “We can catch up later.”

“As it were,” Bobbi agrees, sounding more amused than anything.  She opens the menu and flips immediately to the drinks section, staring for a moment before turning sociable again and asking, “So I know that Natasha’s doing time at the Gap.  What about the two of you?”

“Charlotte Russe,” Sharon says immediately, then very definitely shutting her mouth lest she babble on again.

“Security team, actually,” Maria nods.  “It doesn’t get quite as boring.”

“Ah yes, because having the power to tase people is boring.”  Natasha rolls her eyes good-naturedly.  “At least you get to be mobile.  I’m stuck at the beck and call of entitled customers with shitty taste in clothing.”

“There’s less tasing than you might think,” counters Maria.  “Some.  Not a ton.”

“And I assume you don’t get to tase nearly everyone you think deserves it,” Bobbi interjects, smirking.

“I see you started the interesting conversation without me, Nat.”  Melinda, who’s come up in the last few seconds, slides into one of the vacant chairs.

“Introductions?” Bobbi asks with a raised eyebrow.

Melinda nods a greeting.  “Melinda. You’re Bobbi, I take it?”

“I sure am,” Bobbi says.  She glances at the group as she asks, “So do you just get together to commiserate about your shitty retail experiences, or what?”

“That, and we all generally seem to like each other’s company. Sort of.”  Natasha smirks at Melinda, who gives her a half-smile in return that does look genuine.  “It’s nice to be able to blow off steam outside of corporate hell, you know?”

“Oh, completely,” Bobbi nods.  “That can be a comfort.  It always tied to this location, or is it kind of a rotating venue sort of thing?  Not that I’m complaining about Applebee’s.  I’d rather get a decent serving of chicken wings than some artsy nonsense food any day.”

“Usually here, yeah. It’s pretty cheap, convenient for everyone, and Hunter gives us free booze.”  Grinning, Natasha gives a wave to the bartender, who’s been watching them with an incredulous expression on his face for the past several minutes.

“Hunter,” repeats Bobbi.  “Oh, fuck.”

Just then the bartender, one Lance Hunter, ambles over.  “Nice to see you lot here again.  Or, well, most of you. Kind of hoped I’d never see you again, truth be told.”  This last is directed at Bobbi.

“I’m so shocked to hear that,” Bobbi snarks, rolling her eyes.  “Although you never seemed to believe I was capable of making friends, I’m just here to have dinner with some of my new ones and I really could do without any passive-aggressive whatever while I’m doing that.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.”  Lance gives her a once-over and then adds, “I liked you better blonde.”

“I’m running out to buy dye as soon as we’re done here,” she deadpans, then leaning in to Natasha and muttering, “Because I make all of my beauty decisions based on what guys think is prettier.”

“I like it,” Sharon chimes in.  “It makes you look mysterious.”

Lance sighs and rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way.  “Anything I can get for any of you others, while I’m here?  Since I have a job to do and all.”

“Heineken,” says Melinda, looking as if she would very much prefer him to leave.

Natasha glances over the drink menu before asking for one of the tequila margaritas.

Sharon orders her Fireball whiskey lemonade as quickly as she can and while Maria is musing over the menu one last time Bobbi says, “Long Island iced tea,” grinning sweetly because she knows he can’t very well refuse her.

After Maria puts in her request for a sangria margarita, she waves a hand in the direction of the bar.  “If you please,” she says dryly.

“All right, I know how to take a hint. Be back with your drinks, ladies.”  Lance grimaces one last time before retreating to the bar.

“What was that?” Sharon asks, trying to make light of the situation.

“That was… exactly what it looked like,” Bobbi sighs.  “Dealing with a stupid manchild of an ex-husband is always a great time.”

Everyone nods and makes sympathetic noises.  “Seems like those sort of gravitate to you,” says Natasha, almost apologetically.  “At least Clint is sort of a harmless dumbass.”

“Lance makes Clint look like an angel,” Bobbi agrees.  “But lots of people have idiot exes, I guess.  Unlike some people, I don’t really spend a lot of time dwelling on it.”

“You’re also not a child emotionally,” quips Melinda with a small smirk.

Sharon arches out of her seat, waving eagerly.  “Hey, guys!” she calls in the direction of the entrance, causing the others to turn around to see who’s being addressed.

Although the fact that it’s not returned with an equally enthusiastic response but instead a dry, “Of course.  Hello” probably would have tipped them off to the fact that it’s Victoria, accompanied by Isabelle.

“Leave her be, Sharon,” says Natasha with a chuckle, grabbing Sharon’s hand and squeezing it affectionately.

“Saying hello is polite,” Sharon defends under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” Victoria murmurs to Isabelle as they take seats at their table.

“For what?” Isabelle mostly looks amused.  “Not your fault everyone in that mall follows you around constantly.  I think the little blonde one meant well.”

“Everyone in the mall follows everyone around constantly,” Victoria corrects wryly.  “It’s like living in a very small town.  Very small.  I just wish there was some way to guarantee some alone time with you.”

Isabelle laughs.  “There is a way to do that,” she teases, “but it won’t be in public.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Victoria retorts.  “That’s all well and good, but it would still be nice to go out and not inevitably run into children.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to whisk me away for a weekend.” Isabelle smirks.  “Or maybe I’ll do that for you.”

“Either of those options sound appealing,” admits Victoria, gazing at her girlfriend.

“I bet that those two are secretly as fluffy as a greeting card,” Maria observes in a low voice, looking from the other women’s table to her own.

“Careful,” says Natasha, grinning, “she might hear you.”

“Nothing wrong with fluff,” Maria shrugs, looking about five seconds from cracking up.

Lance appears with a tray of drinks.  He passes them out, trying to appear stone-faced the whole time but mostly pulling off a near-comical pout, then slinks away without a single comment.

“Wow,” says Maria.

“This isn’t even the beginning of how ridiculous he can get,” Bobbi declares, “but that’s not worth obsessing about.  Melinda, you weren’t here when I was asking everybody about what it is they do, so it’s your turn.”

“I work at Big 5,” says Melinda. “It’s thrilling.”

“I can imagine,” Bobbi drawls, lifting her glass in a silent toast at the others before sipping at it.  “Are sports your passion, or was it just the next available position?”

“I enjoy being physical.  Selling sporting goods to others, less so.  Do you have a passion for wedding dresses?” Melinda asks sardonically.

“The individual dress catches my fancy, but I’d hardly call it a passion,” counters Bobbi.  “I don’t hate helping other women feel good about themselves, but this wasn’t exactly my dream job.”

“I don’t think any of us feel like these are our dream jobs,” says Natasha, “but it turns out being a dancer doesn’t pay the bills in this town.”

Bobbi draws in a breath.  “Please tell me Clint never hit on you just because I’m assuming you’re demonstrably flexible,” she groans.

Snorting, Natasha tosses her head and takes a sip of her drink.  “Please. He knows no one would ever find his body if he tried.  We were drunk and made out once, and both deemed it unsatisfactory.”

“Sounds about right,” Bobbi chuckles. “What kind of dance?”

“Ballet.  I was trained in Russia, then I came here.  Sometimes it feels like I made the wrong choice, but here I am.”

“You’re lucky,” Maria tells Bobbi.  “Somehow she managed to keep any and all of these details under wraps till a couple months ago, which is saying something in this mall.  But then again…”  She raises an eyebrow in Natasha’s (and Sharon’s) direction.  “I bet I can figure out why.”

“You caught me,” says Natasha, raising an eyebrow.  “I’m a sucker for a pretty girl.”

Sharon hides her face for a split second, long enough to recover some semblance of dignity.  “It’s kinda complicated,” she says to Bobbi.  “But also, I’m flattered.”

“Complicated is fine,” Bobbi says.  “Complicated isn’t a bad thing.”

“I feel like we should be catching you up on all of the important mall gossip,” Maria quips, sipping at her drink and watching Bobbi for reactions.

“Just talk to Darcy,” says Melinda, smirking.

“Is she the one I’m gonna have to suck up to if I wanna be in the yearbook, too?” Bobbi asks dryly.

This gets a laugh from everyone (well, a smile from Melinda, which amounts to the same thing).  “No, but if you wanna stay out of the school paper’s gossip column you might wanna stay on her good side,” replies Natasha.

“Noted,” Bobbi says.  “Does anyone else warrant a warning?”

“Lorelei at Victoria’s Secret is a little…” Natasha trails off, seemingly for emphasis rather than due to uncertainty.

“You probably won’t have trouble with her,” Sharon hesitates, “I mean, you’re… not a guy, but… still.  If somehow she managed to take over the world, it would be scary.”

Melinda chimes in, “Skye and Fitz control the Wifi, so be nice to them.”

“I feel like I ought to be taking notes,” Bobbi deadpans.

“Your across-the-hall neighbor Loki is a real ray of sunshine,” Maria adds.  “I once had to send him home for the day because he spent his lunch hour outside your store asking everyone who went in if they were really sure about participating in the, how did he put it, ‘bullshit institution’ of marriage.”

“Ooh, you never told me that story,” interjects Natasha with a laugh.

“Luckily, there wasn’t too much to tell, just a few complaints from guests,” Maria shrugs.  “I managed to get it under control before he moved the party to the Disney Store, I assume with the intention to ruin children’s dreams.”

Natasha snorts.  “He would.”  Turning back to Bobbi, she adds, “Also, watch out for Tony and Fandral, they’ll probably try and hit on you.  Fandral in particular has this delusion that he’s a ladykiller.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes good-naturedly.  “I can deal with that,” she says.

“And just… as a general rule, be wary of people from the IKEA across the street,” Sharon declares.  “Especially Grant Ward.”

Melinda rolls her eyes.  “Let’s talk about him as little as possible. I was having a nice evening.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” says Natasha.  “Also, I don’t know how much you wanna interact with Clint, but he might be able to recommend other people to you.  He kind of keeps to himself in his weird little corner near the arcade and the weed store, but he knows something about most of the people there.”

“He would,” Bobbi smirks.  “Hey, I try not to be the weird ex, that’s their business.  I’ll ask him if I get a chance."

Sensing the opportunity (both to change the subject and to assuage the curiosity that’s grown since the earlier revelation), Sharon jumps in with a very eager-but-calm, “So, Bobbi, what did you end up doing after school?”


	16. a tongue like yours should be burned and branded so I can see you lie to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant Ward's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, sleeveless day.
> 
> Or, Natasha and her cohorts conspire to ensure that Grant Ward's Nazi connections are no longer a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No offense intended towards IKEA, it was mostly a convenient store for Ward to work in that might potentially be located near a mall. Because he needed to be in the story but he doesn't even go here. Also someone on Tumblr made a joke about not caring whether he "lives or dies or works at IKEA" and we ran with it. Probably it was only after he started working there that it turned into Hydra headquarters, too.

Natasha slips into the IKEA employee entrance at precisely 9:58 AM, on the heels of a dark-haired twenty-something who, upon seeing her, stopped and held the door for her.  She smiles at him, amused at the lovestruck expression on his face (these guys were so easy), and heads for the locker room.

Four more minutes to decipher the code, and she’s stealing all of Grant Ward’s spare long-sleeved shirts.  And then breaking into all of his friends’ lockers too, just in case.  Only a couple of them have similar long-sleeved shirts, and she takes those too, stuffing them into the oversized purse she bought for just such an occasion.  Then she slips out again, marveling at how easy it all is.

 

* * *

 

“Shit.”  Grant Ward stares at his open locker.  “Hey, Rumlow, you got a spare shirt I could borrow?”

His friend, who’s just come in and is slipping on his IKEA uniform, shakes his head and says, “Sorry, no.  I usually do, but I guess it’s at home or something.”

“Shit.”  Ward bangs his fist against the lockers.  When he’d been hired here, it was with the understanding that, while the higher-ups didn’t mind his Hydra associations, it was his responsibility to ensure that his “personal effects” (the insignia tattooed on his upper arm) didn’t “interfere with his ability to connect with customers.”  Since the standard blue button-up was short-sleeved, that usually meant layering.  And their IKEA’s uniform policy did cover that - exclusively Under Armor brand, which was usually fine.  If only all his fucking shirts hadn’t gone _missing._

His shift starts in half an hour.  That isn’t enough time to get home and back for a shirt, but it’s probably enough time to run to the mall across the street.  There’s a sporting goods place there, they might have Under Armor. 

He sprints across the street, narrowly missing getting hit by a car, and then heads up the escalator to the Big 5.  Inside, he pastes a charming smile on his face and ambles over to the nearest employee, who happens to be Melinda May.  “I don’t suppose you have Under Armor, large size?” he asks. 

“Nope.”  She barely glances at him, apparently riveted by the display of weights she’s rearranging. 

“You sure?  You couldn’t look?” 

“All out.  Sorry.  Holiday rush.  We’ve only got small and XS left.” 

He sighs.  “Okay.  Do you know if any other stores here carry it?” 

“Probably not.” 

“Thank you.”  He leaves, and pauses to think for a moment.  If not a shirt, what else could he use to cover up his tattoo? 

Makeup.  Gross.  But necessary. 

Where did you even buy makeup?  Fuck if he knew, he avoids that girly shit.  He glances around, hoping for inspiration.  Sephora?  That sounds kinda familiar, he vaguely recalls one of his high school girlfriends having bags with that name lying around. 

But as he gets closer he sees that there are literally packs of teenage girls in the store already, and dammit, he has _pride_.  So he turns and decides to try elsewhere. 

Kohl’s seems promising, but even though he’s directed downstairs by a cheerful-looking pudgy guy whose nametag reads “Billy” (“My brother Eric’s down there, he’ll be able to help you!”), that doesn’t pan out either.  Eric, who is apparently Billy’s twin, unless maybe he ran down here and switched nametags just to fuck with Ward, explains that just the day before they’d had a huge sale in the makeup department and all the foundation is gone.  “Sorry,” he says, shrugging.  “You might try Sephora, or Hot Topic, or maybe Claire’s?” 

So, with a groan, Ward heads to Hot Topic. 

His day picks up considerably when he sees the girl working there.  She’s cute, in a weird cartoon schoolgirl way, her smile bright and her hair cotton candy-colored, and he decides she’s worth paying attention to.  “Hey there, cutie,” he says with a winning smile.  “I was wondering if you have any foundation?” 

Carina’s mouth falls open, she doesn’t even bother trying to hide it.  For one, she’s heard about those IKEA guys and she knows that they wouldn’t set foot in this store if it wasn’t an emergency.  For another, there’s the matter of his rather obvious tattoo.  It’s not cool like some of the ones she sees, on patrons here or in Gamora and Drax’s shop, and it’s not lame like some of the ones she sees either.  It’s horrifying.  She knows what it means.  She may come across innocent, but she’s not ignorant. 

“Foundation,” she repeats, taking a deep breath and hustling over to the makeup display.  “We have eye shadow, we have plenty of lipstick.  Were you looking for something for a gift?” 

The questions is so unexpected that he laughs.  “No, no, just...in a hurry, need to fix something.  That’s a no, then?” 

“Fix…”  Carina trails off, trying everything in her power to keep from staring exclusively at his tattoo.  “It’s a no.”  She thinks about adding an apology, but that feels inappropriate. 

“Okay, well, thanks.”  He flashes her his most charming, I’m-a-nice-guy-I-swear smile and leaves. 

Carina really does try to be a good employee and not get distracted or anything, but while many of the stores in the mall are busy with Veteran’s Day sales today, Hot Topic is not exactly a prime destination for people doing their holiday shopping.  The traffic has been mostly young girls looking for cheap _Frozen_ merchandise, honestly, and there haven’t been many of those, even.  So she doesn’t feel too bad about tapping her phone on and accessing the peer-to-peer site that Jemma from the ice cream store linked her to. 

As Jemma explained it, it was something that her girlfriend Skye set up, a way for “awesome people” (direct words, which Jemma looked rather embarrassed about repeating) to communicate with each other about things going on in the mall.  Since “fucking with douchebags” was one of the subsequent activities that Jemma cited (again looking embarrassed) Carina feels that it’s her responsibility as a part of this community to sound the proverbial alarm. 

>> _fyi, everyone, there’s an IKEA employee with a Nazi tattoo apparently looking for foundation and he is very forward._

 

* * *

 

Claire’s is equally fruitless, and Ward is starting to become frustrated.  He has fifteen minutes to find something, and he’s unsure of where to go next.  He wanders somewhat aimlessly through the mall, seeing nothing that could help him, when he spots Charlotte Russe.  He shrugs and heads in that direction; it can’t hurt. 

Given that it’s nearing lunchtime, traffic in the store is light enough that Sharon’s milling around straightening displays, letting her gaze travel toward the door every so often in hopes of customers who might actually be coming to purchase, not just wander in aimlessly.  It’s not entirely unusual to see a guy coming in to pick out clothes for his daughter or sister or something, so at first she doesn’t think anything of the man who’s getting closer and closer to the door.  She doesn’t even get thrown off by his purposeful stride. 

But… then she realizes exactly who it is.  The IKEA shirt would be a giveaway, the tattoo would be a giveaway, and right now, the grimace is a _giant_ giveaway. 

“Hello!” she says brightly once he’s in earshot. 

Ward doesn’t even bother with the full pasted-on smile, but he does attempt to turn up the corners of his mouth slightly.  “Hi.  I’m looking for foundation?” 

Sharon doesn’t even bother to pretend to look around.  “Sorry, no can do,” she says.  “We haven’t got any.” 

“Of course,” he mutters.  “Well, thanks.  Is there anywhere in this damn mall that would?” 

She shrugs, nodding in the vague direction of the other end of the mall.  “Nordstrom is a department store,” she offers. 

He makes a beeline for it, not even bothering to say goodbye. 

Sharon doesn’t know exactly how the other steps of Natasha’s little plan have played out, but when she ducks back to the break room to check her texts and then the “secret internet,” as Darcy calls it, she sees that she hasn’t been the only one already visited by the asshole. 

Ward pauses in the entrance to Nordstrom, unsure of where exactly to go, before spotting Maya and striding after her.  “Excuse me, do you have any foundation?” 

Maya looks perplexed.  “I don’t work at the makeup counters,” she says, “so I couldn’t say for sure, but I could swear Hannah said something about how people were buying things over there in bulk today like crazy.  Coupons, what are you gonna do?”  She shrugs.  “I’d go talk to her.”  She nods in the direction of the blonde girl currently explaining a lipstick to a customer. 

Ward nods and heads for the makeup counter.  Apparently this is the world’s most indecisive customer, because it feels like an eternity before she leaves and the blonde girl turns to him with a bright smile. 

“Can I help you?” she asks politely. 

“I need foundation,” he says, not bothering with politeness. 

“What shade?” 

He cannot fucking believe this.  “ _My_ shade.  I don’t know, I don’t make a habit of wearing it.” 

Hannah peers curiously at him.  “You know, it’s the darnedest thing,” she says.  “This woman came in not half an hour ago who wore the shade you’re looking for, said that all her daughters did too, and she bought out every last one.  Said she was going to make gift baskets with it, bought a lot of lipsticks and blushes and things too.” 

“Well, isn't that just the darnedest thing.”  He can’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.  “Thanks anyway, I guess.” 

“Sure thing,” she chirps.  “Wanna leave your number and we can call when we get some back in?” 

“No,” he spits from between gritted teeth, and leaves. 

He has ten fucking minutes before his shift starts and every single store in the mall is out of foundation, what are the fucking odds? 

At this point he’s a little frantic and decides to stop in every single store that sells woman things, just in case.  Ross Dress For Less is so disorganized that he can’t even find their makeup section and gives up after two minutes, then he takes the escalator upstairs, going two steps at a time.  He stops in at Torrid, which is no help, and then, defeated, he sprints for Sephora.  Maybe all of the teenagers have left by now. 

In the first stroke of good luck all day, only a few stray girls float through the aisles.  He’s a bit surprised to see his old associate Bucky behind the counter, but he doesn’t have time to say anything besides, “Foundation!” 

Bucky blinks at him.  “You need foundation?”

“Yes.  Kind of short on time here.  Do you have any or not?” 

Bucky steps out from behind the counter and ambles over to one of the aisles.  “Whoops, seems like we’re fresh out.  Sorry.”  He doesn’t look very sorry. 

Ward sighs.  “Of goddamn course you are.” 

Bucky’s face is the picture of innocence.  “Do you need me to order some for you?” 

He wants to punch Bucky, but instead he just shakes his head and leaves.  Maybe he’ll get lucky and his manager won’t be in today, so he’ll never find out about this.  Pierce would hate to hear that he was doing anything to alienate customers, however unintentional.

 

* * *

 

Natasha brandishes Ward’s shirts and smirks.  “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you school a Nazi.” 

“Nice job,” says Sam, high-fiving her.  “You’re kickass, you know that?” 

“Yeah, but I always like hearing it.”  Natasha looks entirely satisfied with herself. 

“I still can’t believe I missed this,” Darcy moans, leaning back in her chair.  “Someone seriously should have called me.  Did anyone at least take pictures?” 

“I’ve got you covered,” Maya announces, flopping down in the chair next to Darcy’s and pulling her phone out. 

“Oh my god,” Darcy exclaims.  “Oh my _god_.  This is genius.” 

“Yeah, I mean, I told Melinda beforehand to get rid of the Under Armor, and Bucky to hide the foundation, but it was Carina who told the network.”  Natasha nods at Maya.  “I’m guessing that was how you found out?” 

“Yeah,” Maya agrees.  “That girl is going places.  Luckily, it’s not _entirely_ out of the ordinary that someone would come in and buy everything.  The impulses of those with large disposable incomes.”  She turns to pat Hannah, who’s sitting at the next table over eating a slice of pizza and smiling sheepishly, on the shoulder.  “Good job really selling it.” 

“I think that woman would have bought all of the makeup anyway,” Hannah says.

Maya grins, because that’s really adorable.  “I mean the story,” she replies.  “You played it excellently.” 

“Oh!”  Hannah startles, takes a sip of her soda.  “Thank you.  I’m glad to help, I mean… I believe in helping everyone, but not people who go out of their way to be horrible.” 

“Trust me,” says Natasha, “he’s one of those.” 

Mack, who’s recently been hired at RadioShack and is sitting by himself but clearly listening, chuckles.  “Serves him right.  I tangled with Hydra once.  Didn’t end well for them.” 

“Cheers!”  Natasha toasts with her soda, taking a swig.  “Also, here’s to Nazis with ridiculously easy locker combinations.”


	17. too tired this time to deal with old suits you wear with your ties that won't bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowhere Tattoos tries to drum up business in the mall, and Raina makes a new friend.

Nebula’s not sure exactly where she’s going, but her sister’s vague directions lead her to a nondescript, slightly skeezy-looking store in the back corner of the mall.  As she steps inside, the scent of incense greets her.  She coughs.  She hates scented things.

“Hello?” she grunts, hoping maybe no one’s here and she can just leave.  She squints in an attempt to make out the theoretical employee.

“Hello,” comes a voice from inside a circular rack of what could best be described as faux-bellydancing skirts.  A moment later, a woman pops up, shaking her curly hair out before she grins.

“Oh.”  Nebula doesn’t bother to hide her disappointment.  “Here.”  She thrusts the flyer she’s carrying at the woman.  “My sister made me come over here to give you this.  Some girl on her derby team said you might be into it?”

“If we’re going to be doing business, we ought to know each other’s names, shouldn’t we?”

Nebula shrugs.  “I dunno.  I’m just the receptionist.  But call me Nebula, I guess.”

“Raina.”  This is accompanied by her grin widening.  “Cool name.”

She won’t show it, aside from a smirk, but that pleases Nebula.  “Thanks.  My dad was weird like that.  I got off lucky, my sister’s Gamora.  It’s like he wanted her to open a tattoo place.”

“I think they’re pretty names,” Raina says, finally accepting the flyer.  “Well, Nebula the receptionist of Knowhere Tattoos, what did your sister Gamora mean to suggest I do with this?”

Nebula shrugs.  “Hang it up?  I dunno.  I think it’s weird and shitty to expect your neighbors to advertise for you, but what do I know?  She only hired me to keep an eye on me.”

Raina waves vaguely toward the counter, to the front of which is hung a bulletin board covered in similar flyers.  A bakery, guitar lessons, puppies for sale, a _Sound of Music_ singalong.  “We like to spread the good word for our friends,” she declares before crossing to the board and bending to pin up the flyer (covering an out-of-date advertisement for a local garden show).  “And I think we’re going to be friends.”

“Sure.”  Nebula rolls her eyes.  “I bet you have _lots_ of friends.  So, do you sell brownies too, or just weed by itself?”

“I do, as a matter of fact.”  She looks so pleased about the fact that’s either actually an accomplishment or a blissful lie.  “And we don’t sell weed.”

“Oh yeah?  Then I’m supposed to believe that’s just incense?”

“This right now?  It’s mostly just incense.”  She shrugs.  “I can’t help it that some of my coworkers can’t keep business and pleasure separate.”

Nebula chuckles.  Raina’s being evasive, and it reminds her of how she talks when Gamora tries to get her to share.  That makes her like Raina more.  “Okay, whatever.  Can I have a brownie?”

Raina goes to unlock the baked goods display.  “Flavor?”

“Is there more than one?  I’ve only had, y’know, brownies.”

“Chocolate or extra chocolate.”

“Uh, the second one.”

“An excellent choice,” Raina smiles, selecting an appropriate brownie and placing it in a surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) nondescript paper bag before handing it over.  “This one is on me.”

Nebula’s eyes widen slightly.  “Thanks.”  She’d been planning on sneaking it out before Raina noticed she hadn’t paid, but this works too.

“Friends,” Raina repeats.

“Yeah,” says Nebula, nodding.  “See you later, then.”  To her shock, she means it.

 

* * *

 

Nebula’s bored. She’s _been_ bored for the last three hours, but now that business has slowed to a crawl at 1:13 PM and she’s technically on a lunch break, she’s about to pass out from boredom.

“Drax,” she calls, “can you work on my arm? Since you’re basically done eating.”

Drax looks up from where he’s hunched over his fourth bologna sandwich. “But I am not done eating. I have one-quarter of this sandwich, and then another sandwich in my bag.”

“I said basically.” Nebula rolls her eyes.

“Once I am completely done with all of my food, yes, I will work on your arm.” Drax swallows the remains of sandwich number four and doesn’t bother to hold back the subsequent belch.

Nebula’s about to make another snarky remark when the bell over the front door chimes - no matter how many times she’s told Gamora that no respectable tattoo shop has a doorbell, Gamora won’t budge - and Peter Quill, clad in his usual ridiculous longcoat, enters. “Hey guys, what’s up!” he calls. “I brought fancy sandwiches from the mall across the street! Thought we could have a little business partner powwow.”

Gamora comes from the back room, rolling her eyes as she swipes one of the sandwiches from the bag and hops up onto the counter to sit.  “As long as you never refer to anything we do as a powwow ever again,” she drawls.

“Dealio,” he says with a grin. “Hey Drax, how’s it hanging?”

“My penis is quite comfortably hanging to the right at the moment, thank you for asking.” Even though he’s still got half of the last sandwich left, Drax reaches for one of the ones on Quill’s tray.

Quill gives him a thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it. So, Gamora, I was wondering if you guys had any plans for the holidays, y’know, decorations or whatever…”

“Yes,” Gamora says flatly, “Nebula and I were going to paint a giant Santa Claus in the window and hang wreaths.”

“Ew,” says Nebula, around her sandwich.

“Exactly my point,” Gamora declares.  “Ew.”

Peter looks genuinely hurt. “Don’t tell me you guys are Grinches.”

“We cannot be Grinches!” interjects Drax. “We are neither green nor covered in hair! And we do not know any small cheerful creatures named Whos.”

“I’m not anti-holidays,” Gamora says.  “I’m just anti-exorbitant decorations in my place of business.”  She glances at her sister, shrugging.  “I doubt that they’d hold with the metal police over there, either.”

“Not metal,” says Nebula, bored with the ongoing education she has to repeatedly give Gamora.

The door opens again, and in walks the weird evasive curly-haired woman from the weed store. This surprises Nebula enough that she stares.

“Hello,” Raina says with a placid smile.

“Hey,” says Quill, quickly pushing away the remains of his sandwich and resting his elbow on the front counter so he can lean on it and look pensive. Or at least that’s what he _thinks_ \- he really just looks like a tryhard idiot. Which is usually how he looks in front of girls. “What brings you here?”

“Nebula gave me a flyer earlier,” Raina shrugs.  She’s utterly unimpressed with Peter’s posturing, and she makes no secret of it.  “I figured it would be important to see the place I’m now offering advertising for.”

“Oh, hello,” Gamora exclaims, stepping forward.  “Please ignore the idiot who occupies the other part of this building.  He means well, but he has no idea of how to talk to strange women.  Or any women, actually.”

“I’ll make a note,” Raina giggles.  “You must be the sister.”

Gamora blinks, taken aback.  “You’re probably the first person to make that guess,” she declares.

“I was able to guess!” says Drax. “Even though you do not have the same skin color, you argue constantly, as if you both had sprung forth from the same womb.”

“Ignore that idiot, too,” Gamora mutters.

Drax mutters, “My intelligence quotient is slightly above average.”

“I promise,” Raina chirps in response to Gamora.  “She mentioned her sister being in charge of the shop and between the fact that there were no other women here and the tattoos, I figured it must be you.”

“Nice detective skills,” says Nebula, smirking.

“Thank you,” Raina says, missing any trace of irony that the statement was laced with and looking Nebula over.  “This is a nice place your sister runs, robot girl.”

That makes Nebula snort with laughter. Everyone whirls to look at her, shocked - Nebula never laughs in public if she can help it. After a few moments she gains control of herself and says, “You’re okay, Raina. Come over whenever you want. I can get you a discount if you want some ink or a piercing done.”

“I’ve never been able to think of one thing I want on my body _that much_ ,” Raina muses.  “My whims change too easily.  But thank you for offering.”

“We’ll call it the friends and family discount,” Gamora says, sort of wishing that not _all_ of Nebula’s friends were so unnerving in one way or another.  “When you decide.”

“See!” Raina says to Nebula.  “Friends.”

“Sure,” says Nebula with a shrug.

“That means she likes you a lot,” says Drax. “She will not even talk to anyone she deems unworthy.”

Raina grins.  “I wasn’t told about any of the rest of you, though,” she mumurs.  “May I have introductions?”

“My name is Drax! I like food and drawing on people’s skin.” Drax waves.

“The name’s Quill, Peter Quill.” Quill still looks as if he hasn’t given up on charming Raina. “I own Quill’s Boards next door. You should, y’know, stop in if you ever need boarding stuff. Or other stuff.”

“Other?” Raina repeats innocently.  “I’m a skateboarding novice, I can’t imagine what other things you might have.”

“We got other gear. Shirts, some surfing stuff, some drinks.” Quill gives her his most charming smile. “I have a kickass sound system. It’s always a party in there.”

“Yeah, a party from the seventies.” Nebula rolls her eyes.

“Hey, I do not appreciate that crack against my music! People love that music.”

Drax grins. “I enjoy Quill’s music! It has a pleasant melody and allows me to move my body rhythmically in amusing ways.”

“See! The big guy likes it. You just don’t like fun things,” says Quill triumphantly. “Anyway, yeah, Raina, you should totally come over. You can meet my raccoon!”

“You have a raccoon,” Raina says, raising an eyebrow in an expression of perfect disbelief.

“No, he really doesn’t,” Gamora replies.

“So it’s a euphemistic raccoon,” Raina surmises.  “It’s an odd euphemism, but I’ve heard odder.”  She shrugs. “I mean, I knew this guy who called his penis ‘the obelisk.’  As if that’s at all sexy.”

“No way,” calls Nebula. She’s always interested in hearing stories about idiotic dudes.

“Yes way,” Raina agrees.  “Claimed touching it was some magical honor.”

Nebula snorts again. “Ridiculous.”

“Rocket is a raccoon!” Quill chimes in. “I mean, okay, not a _real_ one, but basically! He has a machine gun, he’s way awesomer than a real one.”

“A raccoon with a machine gun is more interesting than a terrible come-on,” Raina agrees.  “Sure. I’ll see your raccoon.”

Quill looks as if his birthday, Christmas, and a winning lottery ticket have come all at once. It’s pathetic. “Cool! Yeah, okay, uh, Gamora, I’ll talk to you later about the...yeah…” He quickly starts to herd Raina out of the store, as if fearing she’ll change her mind at any moment. “Later!” he calls.

Everything’s quiet for a moment, then Nebula shrugs and says, “Aside from that, she seems cool. And weird. I like that.”

“It’s not a terrible idea to have a more official connection at the mall,” Gamora muses, “since we’re neighbors and all.”

“She smelled like Quill when he comes in late in the afternoons!” says Drax, grinning. “I quite like that smell.”


	18. it'd be a shame to stop now that I've started to make really good mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Friday brings chaos of the expected and unexpected variety. Aspiring reporter Christine Everhart is there to witness it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nebula and Carina's friends/bandmates/therapy buddies are Rogue, Laura Kinney, and Mary Jane Watson. Because even though they're not technically MCU, they're important.

The alarm on Skye’s phone goes off and she sighs, burrowing her face into Jemma’s neck. “Don’t wanna go,” she grunts.

“Nobody wants to work Black Friday,” Jemma says gently.  “But some of us are unlucky like that.  It won’t be so bad!”

“Nah, it probably will be,” says Trip, with a resigned sort of smile. “Mac people are _nuts_. They’re gonna be out in full force.” He almost sounds cheerful, although considering he’s running his hand through Fitz’s hair as Fitz dozes on his chest, that might be improving his mood significantly.

Jemma glares at him.  “You’re not helping,” she hisses before turning her attention back to Skye, carefully easing her up and helping her to her feet.  “C’mon, you can make it through.  Go get dressed and I’ll make you something to eat, all right?”

Skye groans and staggers off towards Jemma’s room, where she’s stashed her clothes. They’d all changed into pajamas after their early Thanksgiving dinner and flopped together in the living room, and now she’s the first that has to leave, for an eight AM shift. Working for a giant moneygrubbing corporation sucks. (Although it could’ve been worse, at least the Apple Store was closed on Thanksgiving.)

Jemma, meanwhile, heads into the kitchen, brushing her hands against her pajama pants and going first for the pantry and then for the fridge.  Once she’s buttered the bread and popped it in the toaster, though, she’s left staring at the still-chilly bacon in frustration.

“Trip?” she calls, sounding sheepish.

“Yeah, I hear you,” calls Trip, gently shaking Fitz’s shoulder. “Hey Fitz, you gotta get up now. I’ll make you food, I promise.” Fitz whines but, after a quick kiss, gets off his boyfriend.

“What’s the problem?” Trip asks, stopping in the kitchen doorway.

“Bacon,” Jemma moans.  “I know I can’t muck up the toast, I’m not worried about it, but I honestly don’t trust myself with anything more advanced.  Ridiculous, but I’d rather admit the failing to you and know you can help me remedy the problem.”

Trip grins. “I swear, you guys just keep me around so I’ll make you food that doesn’t come out of a box. And, in his case, for my rugged good looks. Give it here.”

“I’m asking you to teach me how to make the food that doesn’t come out of a box!” Jemma exclaims, looking indignant.  “I think that’s better.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Trip, still grinning. “Okay, grab a skillet. Here’s how to make perfect bacon.”

 

* * *

 

“Excuse me, could I have a few moments of your time for an interview?”

“An interview,” Bobbi repeats skeptically.  She isn’t always the chattiest with strangers, especially strangers who will very possibly take her out of context, but the woman asking looks - not harmless, exactly, but decent enough not to be an ass about it.  “What are you hoping to cover?”

“Local Thanksgiving Day and Black Friday sales and whether or not they are ethical, specifically from the employee point of view.” Christine decides it’s not important to mention that her blog only gets maybe a thousand hits per week. The topic is bigger than her. “So, Bobbi, could you comment on that? I won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

“I guess,” Bobbi says with a shrug.  Not too many people come to do doorbuster sales at the bridal shop, so the customers are numbering in the single digits right now; she can kill a few minutes talking to… “Uh, do you have a press badge or something?  What’s your name?”

“That’s not important,” says Christine quickly, because technically she doesn’t have a press badge but there’s no law against talking to employees, right? If pressed, she could simply invent something that would require the manager’s attention. “I’m sure you have an opinion, right? I mean, it’s 8:30 AM, shouldn’t you be, y’know, digesting turkey or something?”

“I’m not going to get all… I don’t know, paranoid and weird if you’re not _official_ ,” Bobbi chuckles.  “I just feel like if I’m gonna take the time to rant at you about my job, I should know your name.”

“Christine,” says Christine warily, unsure how Diane Sawyer would react in such a situation.

“Well, Christine,” Bobbi begins, heading to needlessly straighten a display of appropriately “blingy” earrings, “I don’t know about unethical, but it is a little bit ridiculous.  Some of the sales are pretty good, but it’s not like they couldn’t be just as good some other time, should the company decide it.”

Christine is frantically scribbling - she hopes maybe her mother will spring for that microphone she’s been asking for for Christmas for two years now, but until then she’s gotta make do - and nodding. “And do you think their other holiday hours are questionable, or just this one?”

“Honestly?” asks Bobbi.  “I’m not wild about any of them, but I’m not in too much of a place to complain.  It’s a job, so while it’s not ideal it’s not like I can really back out.”

“Gotcha.” Christine smiles sympathetically. “And would you prefer to remain anonymous?”

“On the off-chance that this bounces up to corporate, I probably should,” Bobbi admits.

Christine nods. “Understandable. Thank you for your time, Bobbi.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Fitz arrives at work, freshly showered and full of bacon and toast, the store is a madhouse. A very large part of him wants to turn and run, paycheck be damned, but he steels himself and walks into the fray.

Skye meets his eyes while ringing up a customer. Fitz has never been great at non-verbal communication, but even he can see she’s mentally screaming _HELP_. Fitz takes his place behind another register and pastes on his very best customer service smile.

When Skye’s break comes, she slides over to Fitz and murmurs, “I hate people.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a big fan either,” he says under his breath. “But at least everyone’s been fairly civil?”

“To _you_ , maybe. I’m pretty sure at least one guy has called me a dumb bitch under his breath.”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “Because insulting the employees is the way to get what you want, I’m sure.”

“Totally. Anyway, I’m gonna get a pretzel, I’ve earned that shit. You want one?”

Nodding, Fitz turns his attention to the next person in line and prays for a sudden miracle to end this torture, like a power outage or an earthquake.

 

* * *

 

Darcy’s kind of surprised she’s even _getting_ a break today, as crazy as it is.  Well, like, that’s not technically legal, people working without breaks, but then again, Black Friday really doesn’t seem like it should be legal (and she’s totally not one of those hypocrites who went plundering back when she was a civilian and now bemoans the day, she always thought it was a little too crazy, and for her that’s saying something).  But she has a plan to get her through the rest of her shift.

And that plan is currently ambling up in his beat-up Converse sneakers, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey, dude,” she greets, holding her hand out to him.

“Hello,” says Ian (who is definitely not the kind of guy who’s used to being called dude, so Darcy can forgive his awkwardness).

“So, coffee and a treat or a treat and coffee?”

He seems to be pondering this very seriously for a moment.  “The second, I think,” he decides.

“Awesome,” she says, dragging him off toward Nordstrom with a wicked glint in her eye.  “I’m sure you don’t usually do this.”

“I did it at the party,” he says, though he’s keeping his voice low as if someone might hear him and understand even with the lack of proper nouns.

“This is different, though,” she teases.  “This is a public place.  Strangers might overhear.”  She steers him into one of the lounges (she’s scoped them out, she knows which ones are less likely to get traffic) and all but shoves him behind a stall door.  “Also, you’re going to have to keep touching my ass or my legs or something so you don’t get your hands on the germy surfaces.”

“What a tragedy,” he murmurs, falling to his knees and tugging her tights down swiftly (she’s not even wearing underwear, because she planned ahead).

 

* * *

 

“Excuse me, could I have a few minutes of your time?”

Pepper glances dubiously around the department.  From what she can hear, kids’ upstairs is much wilder, but the designer department doesn’t draw quite as much traffic, because even on sale days, this stuff is too expensive for the majority of people passing through.  This woman definitely doesn’t seem like a shopper; for one, shoppers wouldn’t likely ask.  “A few minutes,” she concedes.  “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to get your opinion on Black Friday sales and whether they’re ethical for the employees or not,” says Christine. “I can keep you anonymous if you’d like.”

“It’s probably a good idea,” Pepper agrees.  “Is this for the paper?”

“I’m writing an article on the topic.” Christine’s gotten pretty good at sidestepping questions like that. “It’s a hot-button issue.”

“Or something like that,” Pepper says, smiling one of her most tactful half-smiles.

Christine nods. She senses that she won’t get very far in this interview, but it’s worth a try at least. “So can I have a comment from you? This isn’t your first Black Friday, I’m guessing. You seem very on top of things.”

“It isn’t, and thank you,” Pepper nods, all gracious manners.  “How wild the experience is depends on where you’re located, I think.  There is a certain level of hysteria that underlines everything, but it’s a challenge for salespeople, nothing more, really.”

“That’s a very level-headed way of looking at it,” says Christine. “Have you always felt that way, or did that come with the experience of multiple Black Fridays?”

‘I try to approach everything with an even temper,” Pepper muses, “but I’m sure that having multiple Black Fridays under my belt helps, too.”

Christine’s diligently writing down every word Pepper says, but she’s always been observant and she can’t help but notice a pair emerging from the women’s changing rooms, the girl pulling the boy along by his arm. The boy looks a little shocked but not unhappy, and the girl is smirking like she’s just - oh. She has, probably. She’s also wearing an FYE branded shirt. Christine can’t hold back her grin as she gestures toward them and asks, “Do they work in the mall? Would they be good to talk to, do you think?”

Pepper looks in their direction, and she’s about to say that sure, more perspectives can’t hurt, but somehow she just knows that Darcy is not the girl to talk to about anything like this.  “They do,” she hesitates, “but I really don’t think you should.  It looks like they’re headed out of here, probably back to work.”

“Well, but I’m sure they’d have a few minutes to give a statement,” presses Christine. “The girl works at FYE, I see, and the guy?”

“He’s at the bookstore down at the other end of the mall,” Pepper supplies.  She’s not offering any more information than absolutely necessary.

“Excellent! Thank you for your time,” says Christine with a smile. “Do you want to give your name or would you rather remain anonymous?”

“Anonymous,” Pepper declares.

“All right. Well, good luck!” calls Christine with a cheery wave.

 

* * *

  

After lazing around the apartment for a couple of hours (and a spirited discussion on the series finale of _Doctor Who_ ), Trip and Jemma carpool because, as Trip points out, “You’ve got an hour or so before your shift starts, but parking’s gonna be hell, so you may as well just carpool with me.”

Since he also has some time before his shift, they grab some sandwiches and make a beeline for the Apple Store. Their first stop was Jemma’s idea, as she pointed out that Fitz and Skye will be wanting lunch. When they get to the Apple Store, it’s only slightly less hectic than they anticipated, and Trip definitely has to muscle through some people before they arrive at the back of the store.

“Oh my god, did you bring food? I love you,” says Skye, looking as if she might cry at the sight of the paper bag Jemma’s holding.

“I know, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it,” Jemma teases.  “Are you on break yet?”

“Yeah, thank God,” sighs Skye. “It’s nuts in here. You are literally saving my life right now.”

Fitz snorts. “You would not have _literally_ dropped dead if she hadn’t appeared.”

“Would too,” says Skye, sticking her tongue out at him. “Anyway, c’mon, guys, let’s take these into the break room.”

Bouncing on her heels with far too much energy for the day, Jemma take Skye’s free hand and follows her back, nodding at the boys to join.

“So has it been completely hell?” she asks softly, trying for equal parts sympathy and humor.

“Not _completely_ ,” says Skye with a playful (but tired) grin. “Just mostly. Spoiler alert: people are greedy, selfish assholes.” She opens the paper her sandwich is wrapped in and stuffs half of the sandwich in her mouth.

Trip laughs. “By all means, tell us how you really feel.”

Skye sticks her tongue out at him too. It’s not a pretty sight because it’s coated in mayo.

“Ugh,” groans Fitz, who is eating his sandwich, as he would say, like an actual human being and not a starving wolf. “Must you?”

“I must,” says Skye sweetly, taking another enormous bite.

“Well, since we took care of breakfast _and_ lunch, you two are responsible for dinner,” Jemma declares, nodding very assuredly.

“Okay, but you’re getting takeout.” Skye grins. “You know how good we are in the kitchen.”

“That’s fine,” Jemma replies.  “I just don’t want to have to think about it when we’re done.”

Shrugging, Skye replies, “No worries, we’ll take care of everything. Now, I want kisses.”

“As you command,” Jemma giggles, bracing her hands on her lap before leaning in to kiss Skye.

Skye makes a happy purring sort of sound and reaches to pull Jemma closer to her.

“ _Ugh_ ,” groans Fitz. “Go back to talking with your mouth full, that’s more appealing than having to watch this.” Skye takes one hand off of Jemma’s back to flip him off.

“Aw, I could distract you if you want,” says Trip with a grin.

“Oh! Er, I…” Fitz looks embarrassed but nods.

Chuckling, Trip rests one hand gently on his shoulder and kisses him.

 

* * *

  

It’s a fairly quiet day at Hot Topic. Sometimes shoppers from other stores will drift in, take advantage of the t-shirt sale, but in general Loki’s feeling restless and bored. Not that he isn’t usually, but especially today.

Even Carina, who’s usually finding some way to busy herself even when there are no customers, has taken to milling around in a listless sort of way.

That is, until a group of four girls enter and one of them - the one with hair the most ridiculous shade of blue -  barks, “Hey, is it your lunch yet? We’re stealing you!”

Carina checks her watch (it’s disgustingly twee, with a pasted-colored heart made of bubbles on the face) and nods very quickly.  “I can cut out now,” she agrees, then running back to the breakroom in a flurry of pastels and enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Loki turns to survey the new arrivals. There’s the blue-haired girl, whom he saw wandering the mall earlier this week for reasons unknown; a girl with white streaks in her hair who, judging by her outfit, looks like she might actually be a regular Hot Topic customer; another who looks like she’s barreled right past Hot Topic and straight into either biker or hooker territory (possibly both); and a redhead who’s wearing jeans and a sweater set that make her look like she’d be more at home in literally any other store. These are not the people Loki would have ever expected human My Little Pony Carina to associate with.

The one with streaks in her hair is looking at him like he might bite. “Is that nail polish in a skull?” she asks in a strong Southern accent, pointing at one of the nail polish displays next to the counter.

“Yes,” says Loki, guarded.

“That shape is ineffective,” chimes in the biker-hooker. “Unless the nail polish is poison, in which case it is understandable. But I doubt you would have that on display near the checkout counter.”

“I like it,” grunts blue-hair. “I’d buy some if I cared enough. I don’t.”

The redhead has wandered over to another shelf of slightly less absurd-looking hair accessories. She’s looking at the hairbows when Streaks calls, “Ya gonna go for really young roles there, MJ? Annie, maybe?”

Rolling her eyes, the redhead - MJ? - retorts, “Already did it when I was ten. I was the talk of my elementary school, I’ll have you know.”

Carina comes rushing out of the back, purse slung over her shoulder (it’s actually one of the _Tangled_ ones they carry, which makes perfect sense given her whole animated vibe), and immediately appears beside MJ.  “I think those are darling,” she says.  “You could do a sort of sixties mod thing.”

MJ chuckles. “I’m glad to know that one of you has taste.”

“I think we all have taste, just… _different_ taste,” Carina decides.

“Excuse me, _who_ are these people?” says Loki, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh!”  Carina’s eyes go wide.  “Excuse me for not introducing them earlier.  I think my head’s a bit in the clouds today.  This is Mary Jane -”

“Hey,” says MJ with a wave. “And no, I don’t have any drugs for you,” she adds playfully.

Carina giggles behind her hand before continuing, “And that’s Rogue -”

Streaks nods, still looking wary.

“And Laura, over by the jewelry,” Carina adds, “and standing near the door and looking bored out of her mind is my girlfriend Nebula.”

“That’s an interesting array of names,” says Loki, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Oh, and this is Loki,” Carina says, nodding at her coworker.

“Yeah, _that’s_ sure a normal name,” murmurs Rogue to Laura.

A hint of panic crossing Carina’s face, she dashes over to take Nebula’s hand and with her other waves at the girls to follow.  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she calls to Loki.  “Let’s go.  Did you have any lunch ideas?”

Nebula shrugs. “Dunno. Wherever you want, I guess. I’m buying.”

“Ooh, a treat,” Carina giggles.

They file out of  the shop, leaving Loki, blinking in an attempt to process what’s just happened, behind them. Then he decides to stop dwelling on it. He has to keep himself focused for his own lunch hour plans.

 

* * *

 

Christine’s next success comes at Kay Jewelers. Victoria, the manager she’s managed to corner, is somewhat laconic but is at least willing to reply to all of her questions, which is all Christine wants, really.

“How does this Black Friday compare to past years for you? Better, worse or about the same?”

Victoria raises an eyebrow.  “A few years back, I was working at Target,” she begins.  “By virtue of the fact that this store is smaller, quieter, and visited by almost zero children, this is better.”

“Oh wow, I bet,” says Christine with a sympathetic wince. “Are your hours here better too? Do you feel like this store is less interested in trying to compete for customers?”

“People who are looking to buy our jewelry are going to buy our jewelry no matter what,” Victoria shrugs. “They might buy more of it when it’s on sale, but it’s nine times out of ten not entirely an impulse buy like a lot of stores seem to bank on.”

Christine nods. “Makes sense.”

Just then they’re interrupted by someone outside the store yelling “Hey Victoria!” Both women whip around to look, and there’s two girls standing there holding hands. One of them is wearing a blue Apple shirt. “Every kiss begins with Kay!” she yells, grabbing the other girl’s face and kissing her passionately.

“What in the hell,” Victoria mutters under her breath.

Christine tries not to giggle. “Is this a recurring event?”

“I have a sinking feeling that it might be one soon,” Victoria sighs.

“Mocking corporate culture,” murmurs Christine, scribbling furiously. “I like it!”

Before Victoria can respond, Christine heads for the two girls, hoping maybe she can get a statement. “Thanks!” she calls over her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she says to the girls, as they’re turning away from Kay. “Could I talk to you for a second? It’s for an article.”

One of the girls turns back, eyes wide and terrified, and the other one - the one in the Apple shirt - says, “Uh, sure, about what?”

“Oh, I saw your little display back there and thought it was an excellent parody of the corporate culture. Can I get a statement on that? And your names, if you want me to include them?”

Apple shirt shrugs. “I’m Skye, and I basically just wanted to annoy Victoria. But sure, if you want my opinion, I think that slogan is ridiculous and I just took it to its logical conclusion. Right, Jem?”

“Uh, yes!” she exclaims, nodding very quickly and anxiously.  “Logical.  It was logical.”

“Well I thought it was great,” says Christine with a grin. “You work at Apple, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. Been here since seven AM.” Skye’s smiling in that tired, pained way that Christine knows all too well. “Heading home now, though.”

“And you? Do you work here too?”

“Yes,” Jemma repeats.  “I, I do.  At MaggieMoo’s.  What is your article for?”

“Oh, online,” says Christine quickly, hoping to change the subject before they ask what website. It’s not her fault she doesn’t have the cash for a domain name right now. Racialicious uses WordPress, it’s a legitimate platform! “I’m doing an article about whether or not Black Friday and Thanksgiving sales are ethical. Do you guys have any comment about that?”

Skye shrugs. “I mean, I’d rather they didn’t have me come in at the ass-crack of dawn, but I can’t complain too much, I had yesterday off.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what the whole fuss is,” Jemma admits.  “I didn’t grow up even really knowing that Black Friday was a thing, but then, I didn’t grow up with Thanksgiving, either, so it’s all rather something to get used to.”

“I bet,” nods Christine. “Well, thank you so much and I’ll let you get back to work now!”

The girls walk off and Christine’s about to head for the Lego Store - she figures the poor overwrought workers in there will have things to say about the behavior of frantic parents - when someone says to her, “Hey there, beautiful. My body has a deadline, and if you don't hurry, you're not going to make it.”

She freezes for a half-second, not sure if what she’s just heard is really directed at her. Then she turns to see a guy with a meticulously trimmed goatee and a suave smile standing a few feet away. “Name’s Tony Stark,” he says, blatantly ogling her. “Son of Howard Stark of Stark Industries? And what’s _your_ name?”

She snorts; she can’t help it. It’s all so _ridiculous_. What is this guy, in college? He looks mid-twenties, too old for shitty pickup lines. And yet...he’s kinda hot. “Christine Everhart,” she says. “I’m writing an article on the ethics of Black Friday and Thanksgiving sales. I’d love to have a quote from you.” She practically purrs the last sentence.

“Well, I don’t really care either way, it’s only slightly less boring than a usual workday and that’s just because watching people get violent over electronics is slightly amusing.” He’s talking a mile a minute and it’s difficult for her pencil to keep up. “But I mean, I don’t need to use those deals, Dad will buy me whatever I want, or at least he used to before he got a stick up his ass and made me get a soulcrushing corporate job. But enough about that - off the record, do you have plans for tonight?”

She stops writing mid-word. “I...no, I don’t. Are you offering to change that?” Yes, she’s flirting with him. Why not? He’s hot, rich, and, yeah, self-absorbed, but what guy isn’t?

“In that case, my shift ends at 5, if you wanna grab an early dinner?” He’s charming too, schmoozing like a champion.

“Sure,” she says, because if a rich guy’s offering dinner, why not take it? “Where should I meet you?”

“Oh, I work at Sharper Images,” says Tony, nodding in the direction of the store. “Come find me there.”

“Will do, Tony Stark,” she says with a wink.

She’s about to leave when the FYE girl from earlier runs up, waving her arms in excitement. “You guys,” she exclaims.  “There’s the actual most ridiculous thing going on.”  When she finds no discernable reaction on Tony’s face, she shifts her attention to Christine, tilting her head in curiosity.  “Customer or new hire?” she asks.

“Neither, reporter,” says Christine earlier. She’s been fudging the truth all evening, why stop now. “What’s happening?”

“You’ve just got to come see, I don’t think words can do it justice.”

 

* * *

 

Downstairs, Christine is greeted with chaos inside the Disney Store.

A tall, pale, long-haired man is screaming and waving his arms around, knocking things off of shelves. An equally tall but more muscular blond man is attempting to subdue him, with somewhat limited success. The well-toned black man standing closer to the screaming man is having slightly more success, talking to him in a soothing voice with his hands extended.

And a petite brunette is standing in the entrance, attempting to regulate people coming into the store and looking very frazzled.  “No, come back in ten minutes, I promise it will be better, uh…”

“Princess Belle will be visiting in ten minutes,” Darcy exclaims, jumping to her friend’s side.  “Come back when the monster is vanquished and Belle will read you all a story.”

“What are you talking about?” the other woman mutters.

“I know for a fact there’s a yellow ballgown in the back room of this store, and in addition to being a sample size you’ve got the hair, and clearly your manager can spare you,” Darcy explains patiently.

“Actually I’m on break -”

“Even better,” Darcy declares.

“Excuse me, who is that?” demands Christine. She can definitely find a way to incorporate this into her article.

“Christine, this is Jane,” Darcy says.  “Jane, this is Christine.  Christine’s a reporter or something, and Jane technically works at the science store across the way there but is very generously donating her time to averting a disaster.”

“Oh, I meant him,” says Christine, giving Jane a cursory nod. “In the store.”

“ _That_ ,” Darcy announces, “would be Loki, would-be king of the revolution.”

Christine wrinkles her nose. “Revolution?”

Loki’s going on in the store about “You _FOOLS_ , you utter slaves to capitalism! You’re playing right into their greedy hands, you know, you’re just another sap they can squeeze profit out of! They don’t care about your or your family!”

“Oh my god.” Christine pulls out her phone, even though it’s not the most professional course of action, and starts recording this for all it’s worth.

“He’s been like this for at least ten minutes already,” Darcy whispers to Tony.  “I guess he just wanted to ruin as many holiday seasons as he could.”  To Jane she says, “You’re clearly going to win a medal for crowd control.”

“Don’t be mean,” Jane retorts.

“I’m not,” Darcy says.  “I’m totally sincere.  Go, team you.  Keeping children away from the asshole of the century.  I bet Officer Dad will buy you lunch or something.”

“I wish I had some popcorn, this is quality entertainment,” chimes in Tony. “Anyone know if any stores here sell that?”

“Weird dessert popcorn, maybe,” Darcy shrugs, “but would you really want to miss this?”

“Fair point.”

Loki’s now screaming about “these idiot parents who think that buying their children overpriced dreck shaped like cartoon characters is a decent substitute for actually loving them, they’re scum! It’s all a lie, children, love is a lie! Your parents don’t really love you, the instant you step out of line they’ll cast you out!”

“The fuck?” says a new voice. A group of girls have walked over to see what’s going on, half of whom have non-natural hair colors. They kind of resemble cartoon characters themselves, notes Christine. The one that spoke has bright blue hair.

“Oh,” says Darcy.  “Hey, uh, Carina?  Carina’s… friends, I guess?”  She winces apologetically, but now is not the time for pleasantries.  “Your, uh… coworker friend-”

The blue-haired one barks a laugh.

“He’s going all…”  Darcy sighs, then starts over, faking a bright smile.  “The employees of the mall loved Christmas a lot, but Loki, who worked in Hot Topic, did not.”

“Oh, no,” Carina exclaims, moving her hand to her cheek in distress.

Blue-hair is chortling, the girl with white streaks in her hair who’s standing next to her is laughing too, and even the other two are smirking. One of them, a redhead who’s wearing the least bizarre outfit of the four, says, “I’m surprised he hasn’t cracked before this, from what you’ve said, Car.”

“I’m sure… there’s a reasonable explanation for it?” Carina attempts.

“If I was in charge, this sentimental bullshit would be nonexistent! We wouldn’t coddle children with the lies of happy endings and true love, we would teach them the truth! The world cares nothing for you and your petty desires, it will utterly destroy you!” Loki’s picked up a foam sword and is waving it around in an attempt to emphasize his points.

“Maybe there isn’t,” Carina murmurs.

“Has it occurred to anyone that giving him an audience is probably just fueling him?” Jane asks.

“Yeah, but I’ve been dealing with idiots for the last four hours,” says Tony. “The least I can do is get some actual entertainment around here, I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

Then two people wearing security uniforms arrive, led by the black man who’d been trying to subdue Loki. The male officer, whose badge reads COULSON, is balding and looks disproportionately concerned. He steps into the store and says, “Loki, I’m going to need you to put the sword down.”

Instead of doing that, Loki snarls, “Make me, pig!” and stabs Coulson in the chest with the sword. That, of course, accomplishes nothing, outside of looking very silly. Coulson blinks in surprise more than anything and backs away, just in time for the female officer to jump in and tase Loki. Loki goes down quickly, shuddering and groaning.

“That was not a great deal of electricity,” comments one of the girls who’s watching. Her entire outfit is leather. “If he is interested in being a revolutionary, he should build up an immunity to electric shocks.”

 

* * *

 

“Mostly, I’m just shocked that this turned into one of those horrid Black Fridays you hear about where the weapons come out,” Jemma is saying as she and Trip walk into the apartment.

“Yeah, I was glad Nordstrom didn’t get hit that bad,” says Trip, taking off his coat. “Sorry you had to see it all.”

“Hey,” calls Skye, striding over to grab Jemma in a hug and kiss her cheek. “You made it home!”

“Miraculously, yes,” Jemma agees, bumping shoulders with Skye.  “And I see you two actually came through with dinner.”

Skye grins. “Yep! It’s all there, especially your lemon chicken. And like, two pounds of rice. I insisted on lots of rice.”

“I’m just serving them up,” calls Fitz. “Your Mongolian beef is here too, Trip.”

“You know the way to my heart,” says Trip with a smile.

Skye points at the couch. “You guys, sit. We’ll bring you everything.”

Jemma’s eyebrow shoots up, and she exchanges glances with Trip, all too amused.  “Is this getting the royal treatment?” she asks him.

“Guess so. I’m sure not gonna complain,” he replies, ambling over to sit in his customary chair.

“Thanks, darling,” Jemma coos, flouncing over to the couch and plopping down.

Skye joins her after a moment, steaming plates of food in her hands. “Your dinner, madam,” she says in a terrible British accent.

“You’re being so sweet that I won’t even call you out on that,” Jemma says.

“Awesome!” Skye nuzzles her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Jemma giggles.  “Especially when there’s such good gossip to go over, it’s weird to not be able to do so immediately.”

Giggling, Skye says, “Well, there was that shit Loki pulled. Damn, it was nuts.”

“Oh man, I was stuck in the store and I’m so pissed I missed it,” groans Trip. “Darcy filled me in, but it just ain’t the same.”

“What’s this?” Fitz walks in holding plates, and once he’s close enough, Trip pulls him onto his lap.

“Oh my god, Loki went nuts and started screaming in the Disney Store about how it was for parents who didn’t really love their kids and how Disney teaches kids lies and the world is a shitty place and all that. It was amazing.” Skye’s grinning. “He only went down when Maria tased him.”

Fitz blinks. “Jesus. Sounds exciting.”

“That’s one word,” Jemma agrees.  “If he was hoping to incite some sort of mass rebellion, he didn’t really succeed. The only outrageous thing that happened after you both left was - you know Donnie, who works at the Sprint store?”

Skye snorts. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’d been across the street to Applebee’s for lunch, right, and I guess he thought it would be a good idea to take the edge off, because he came back completely tanked up,” Jemma continues.  “That song from _Frozen_ , you know, the big dramatic one, it came on the stereo and he decided to stage an impromptu one-man sing-along.”  She giggles, but it soon gives way to a wince. “Poor misguided boy.”

“Hey, at least he wasn’t traumatizing a bunch of little kids,” says Trip, chuckling.

“No, I’d say he pretty well traumatized anyone who was watching,” Jemma declares wryly.

Fitz smirks. “Glad I missed that.”

“I hope someone filmed it. That shit sounds hilarious,” Skye says, draping herself over Jemma in a way that still allows her to eat. “Hey, so are we gonna watch a movie over dinner? I vote _Pacific Rim_.”

“You _always_ vote _Pacific Rim_!” protests Fitz.

“Because it’s great!”


	19. and though you give me no more than just enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamora and Quill throw a Christmas party and invite some friends and associates from the mall. The white elephant gift exchange goes about as could be expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: actual marijuana brownies.

"Where would you like this festive greenery?  Although of course it's not a real tree.  Those were too expensive and also much heavier." 

Gamora rolls her eyes.  The normally-empty space around her is already much more _festive_ than she would like, because while she’s not a Grinch like Peter suggested she’s also not the most prone to joyous celebrations, but it would be wrong to have a party without a tree, and she admits that.  So very quickly, she scans the room, from stereo to snacks to seating, and finally nods toward one corner.  “There,” she says. 

Drax nods and lugs the five-foot tree toward the corner.  Gamora had tried to tell him earlier that it would’ve been easier to leave it in the box to move it and then assemble it and put the lights on, but Drax had been too excited to listen.  Drax likes lights. 

There’s something sort of endearing about watching him be so enthusiastic about something so stupid, but like fuck Gamora is going to say anything, to him or anyone else; instead, after allowing herself a moment to smile, she turns her attention to her sister, who’s supposed to be fixing up the snack table and is instead leaning against a wall with her arms folded, smirking. 

Fine, then. 

“I see you’re underachieving now as much as ever,” Gamora dawls as she approaches. 

“You seem to have everything under control,” replies Nebula.  “Besides, we both know I hate decorating even more than you.” 

“This party was more your idea than mine,” Gamora retorts. 

“Yeah, but it was mostly Quill’s.  I just didn’t feel like crushing his dreams, you know?  Guy’s really into Christmas.”  Nebula glances at her watch.  “Anyway, at least I _invited_ some people.  See, I can be normal.” 

Gamora bites back a sigh.  “I invited someone,” she says, hating how stubborn she sounds. 

“And I’ve got five.”  Nebula looks disgustingly self-satisfied.

“Well, Sharon said she would be bringing some people, if that was all right,” Gamora defends.  “Which it is, so I -”

“Ladies, ladies, are we fighting over me again?” calls a new voice.  There’s Quill, carrying his stupid plant and his stupid raccoon and they’re all wearing ridiculous holiday outfits.  “There’s more than enough Peter Quill to go around, if you want.”

“Shut up,” Gamora snaps, at the same time that Nebula says, “Shut the _fuck_ up!”

Quill shrugs.  “Hey, can’t blame me for assuming.”

“Yes we can,” says Gamora.

He puts up his hands in a defensive motion.  “Okay, okay, fine.  Where should I put Groot and Rocket?  I didn’t want them to miss out.” 

“Miss out?” Gamora repeats incredulously.  “Quill, you know they’re inanimate objects.” 

“Yeah, but they’ll get lonely,” says Quill, scratching Rocket’s head.  Most of it is covered with a stupid headband that has antlers attached, but he manages somehow. 

“Oh my god,” mutters Nebula. 

Before the argument can progress, there’s a brisk knocking on the window, one that causes everyone’s heads to turn in that direction.  Raina’s outside, holding a plate of brownies and waving. 

“Oh look, there’s _one_ of my people,” says Nebula with another smirk, going to open the door for her. 

“I’m early,” Raina declares, glancing around the room and seeing only the hosts of the party. 

“Naw, the party starts now!” says Quill.  “Cue the music!” 

Everyone stares at him for a long moment.  “Is nobody in charge of music?” he asks, looking severely disappointed.  “I mean, I can be, but I figured you guys wouldn’t want me to be…” 

This time, Gamora doesn’t bother to hide her sigh.  “Someone has to, and since I’d rather we not spend the whole night listening to people scream…” Said with a pointed glance at Nebula. 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“It doesn’t really lend itself to smalltalk,” Gamora deadpans. 

“Well, _I_ don’t like smalltalk, I don’t see what your problem is.” 

“I thought that at parties you are supposed to pretend to care about what other people are saying,” chimes in Drax.  “That is what I have been told.  I am getting better at it!”

“I’m sure you are,” Raina says sweetly.  “Where should I put these?” 

“Food is on that table,” Gamora replies, waving a hand toward the refreshments (which right now consist mainly of potato chips, storebought gingerbread cookies, a terrible punchbowl, and beer). 

With a smile, Raina drifts in that direction, wholly unconcerned.

“You have a festive hat made of flowers!” says Drax, indicating Raina’s holiday-themed flower crown.  “I have one too!  But it isn’t made of flowers, it is a Santa hat.  Still, it is jolly and festive!”

Nebula rolls her eyes. “You’re using that word a lot. ‘Festive.’ The fuck do you even mean by that?”

“I mean it is seasonally appropriate!”  Drax seems unbothered by her harshness.

“There’s no use pressing the matter,” Gamora whispers in her sister’s ear before going to move the presents to their place under the tree.  So far, there are only the ones that she, Nebula, Peter, and Drax brought, but it’s something she can do while she very covertly keeps an eye on Nebula’s new friend to make sure she’s not putting acid in the punch.

Nebula leans closer to Raina.  “Are those brownies...y’know, _special_?  Not that I care, but it’ll be hilarious.”

Raina raises an eyebrow.  “I’m assuming your definition of ‘special’ isn’t ‘made with love,’” she declares.

“Nah, I’m asking if they’re spiked.”

“Some of them.”

“Ooh, which ones?”

A shrug.  “I don’t remember.”

“Awesome.  I knew I liked you.”

“Because I forgot to label my brownies?”  It’s the sort of question that’s posed as a challenge, and if that wasn’t abundantly clear there’s Raina’s utterly faux-innocent facial expression.

“Because you fuck with people.  I’m a fan of that.”

Raina giggles, then before Nebula can protest she withdraws a spare holly leaf from her jacket pocket and pins it to Nebula’s shirt.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she singsongs as she wanders off.

The door swings open again and with the rush of cold air comes Gamora’s roller derby teammate Sharon… and, apparently, everyone Sharon has ever met.

“Heyyyyyyy there,” says Quill, turning away from his iPod to strike a cheesy pose for the benefit of the two female newcomers.  “And who might _you_ be?”

“Sailor Moonshine,” the blonde replies dryly, sashaying past and leading her posse over to where Gamora stands.

“You made it!” Gamora exclaims, sounding more enthusiastic than the others have heard her be all week.  “And you brought company.”

“It’s all right, right?” Sharon asks.  “You said it was all right.”

“Of course it’s all right, it’s a party.  More the merrier, or… something,” Gamora says.  “But since you’re all ‘my’ guests, introductions are in order.”

The other woman in the group, a redhead, points to each person as she introduces them.  “That’s Steve, Bucky, and Sam.  And I’m Natasha.”

“Thank you for having us,” the man identified as Steve says, smiling graciously.  “It’s always fun to get outside of the mall bubble.”

Sam gives him a slightly disdainful look.  “Some of us do that anyway, y’know.”

“Yes, well, more opportunities are always nice,” Steve retorts, though the smile hasn’t faded.

Nebula wanders over to inspect the newcomers.  “So this is your one guest and her plus-ones, huh?” she asks, running her gaze up and down each of them in turn.  “Which one of you is her actual plus-one?”

“Nebula,” Gamora hisses, looking mortified.

“I’m just curious!”  Nebula’s delighted to have embarrassed her sister.

Natasha smirks, amused.  “It’s a legitimate question.”  She nudges Sam, who’s standing next to her, and he gives her a playful wink.  Bucky starts to giggle before managing to stifle it, and even Steve looks like he might laugh at any moment.  Then none of them says anything for a while.

It takes a while for Nebula to catch on, but for just a second surprise flickers across her face before being replaced with her usual vaguely bored expression.  “Message received,” she says with a grin.  “You go, blondie.”

Sharon smiles shyly.  “Thanks,” she says, reaching behind her and knowing one of them will take her hand.  It’s Steve who does, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly, because he knows that as the newest member of their little group, she’s still adjusting to coming out.

“So,” he says, changing the subject cheerily.  “What’s on the schedule for the night?”

“Have you brought presents?” asks Drax.  “You should put them under the tree with the others!  We will all be taking one.  Gamora says this is a white elephant gift exchange, but there are no elephants involved.  Well, I bought an elephant for it, but you still have to guess which present I wrapped if you want it.  Gamora explained the meaning behind the name of the custom after I had already bought it.”

“That’s precious,” Sharon murmurs, turning her head just slightly to exchange a chuckle with Sam.

 

* * *

 

As parties go, this one is… not entirely disastrous, Gamora has to admit.  She doesn’t even entirely want to punch out the speakers, and though she could do without the sight of Peter attempting to wrangle any of the female party guests into dancing with him, she has to give it to her sister that while her friends are sometimes terrifying, they definitely don’t fall for bullshit.  Well, that girl from the weed store across the street danced with him for a little while, but in a way like she was clearly just messing with his head; by the time she got bored and moved on, Nebula’s bandmates had shown up (and not a moment too soon, given that Gamora was starting to worry that something might get set on fire just out of Nebula’s ennui) and they rebuffed him in sequence: Carina politely, MJ less so, Rogue sassily, and Laura with a look of complete confusion.

They seem to be enjoying themselves - perhaps too much, as she heard Rogue whoop at one point, “Damn, those brownies are _strong_!”  She has a feeling that Raina is responsible for that, and is glad she steered clear of them herself. 

Given that they’re a couple of hours into the party, and she doesn’t know how late this is going to go or _should_ go, so it’s probably time to get started with the officially sanctioned activity. 

“Turn the music down,” she hisses to Peter before unceremoniously climbing on a mostly-empty table and calling out, “Okay, we’re gonna do the white elephant exchange now, guys!”

“Woohoo!” yelps Peter, turning down the music exactly two notches before jumping up onto the table next to her.  “Present time, guys!”

Gamora rolls her eyes, gracefully slides off the table, and turns the music down eight notches lower.  “Feel free to supply your holiday tidings of choice,” she says dryly as everyone gathers around the tree.

“ _счастливого рождества_ ,” says Natasha, smirking. 

Gamora’s holding a stocking with slips of paper in it, about to draw one, when Peter pokes her and says, “Can I do it?  Huh, can I?” 

“Fine,” Gamora sighs, handing the stocking over. 

“Great!”  Peter rifles around in the stocking for a moment before reading the name on the paper he pulls out.  “Drax!” 

“Exciting!” says Drax with a huge grin, standing up and moving over to the tree.  After a moment of consideration, he selects one of the smaller packages, that’s covered almost entirely with a gigantic red bow.  “I like this bow!  It is as large as my face.”  He tears into the package and pulls out a white hairbow covered in pictures of kittens.  “Oh, I quite like cats!” he says, clipping it to his Santa hat.  “Thank you!” 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” says Rogue, looking a bit surprised that someone took her joke gift seriously. 

Peter grins.  “Suits you, Drax.  Okay, next up is… Sharon!” 

Sharon smiles sheepishly, like being the first of their little group to get called is somehow worth being sheepish, and Sam kisses her on the cheek before releasing his hold on her waist and nudging her out of his lap. 

She doesn’t deliberate at all, just drops to the ground and grabs a modestly-sized box wrapped in plain blue paper.  After a moment of staring at it with open curiosity, she slides her fingertip under the tape to unwrap it with precision.  Inside is a very classy white and mint green mug with black stripes around the rim, something that’s tasteful and neutral enough to appeal to anyone at this party if they were inclined to admit that.  “I feel like… maybe we ought to make a game of guessing who brought the present,” she declares, grinning. 

“Might be a bit of a crapshoot, seeing as how most of us just met a couple hours ago,” snarks Nebula, “but sure, why not?  Whoever brought that actually wanted someone to end up with something nice.” 

“I can tell,” Sharon agrees, turning to look the crowd over and tapping her chin in an exaggerated thinking motion.  A lot of the guests look much too mischievous to have brought a perfectly decent, neutral gift, which isn’t an insult, just a fact.  “Well, I know that Steve didn’t bring this…” 

“It’s not unique enough,” says Sam with a grin. 

“In a situation like this, I think it’s a very tactful choice,” Sharon defends, holding the mug a bit closer to her as if to protect it.  “Tactically tactful, maybe.  I’m going to go out on a limb and say -”  Here she pauses, points to Nebula’s red-haired friend.  “And now I’m feeling like a complete ass for forgetting your name.” 

“Mary Jane,” she says with a smile.  “No worries, it happens.  Glad you like it, Sharon.” 

“I do,” Sharon agrees, sitting down again though this time it’s in Natasha’s lap. 

“Aw, you don’t wanna trade with Drax?” asks Peter playfully. 

Sharon shakes her head.  “I’m very good like this,” she says, though given the way she wiggles closer against Natasha that could just mean that she doesn’t want to get up. 

Natasha smirks and pets her arm.  “You’re kinda high, aren’t you?” 

“Why would I be high?” Sharon asks, befuddled.  “I don’t do drugs.  I haven’t even had more than a glass of punch tonight.” 

“How many brownies, though?” 

Sharon screws up her face in concentration.  “Uh… maybe three?” she murmurs, sounding guilty.  “It’s a party, and I didn’t eat a big lunch.” 

“Uh huh.”  Natasha chuckles and starts petting Sharon’s hair instead.  “You’re adorable.” 

Peter grins and shrugs.  “Okay!  So next up is… ooh, it’s me!”  He goes over to the tree and then proceeds to pick up and shake each gift individually. 

“Quill…” Gamora says warningly.

“What, like _you_ don’t do this with your presents?”  Finally he shrugs and selects the lone envelope.  “Maybe this one’s money!”  He opens it and pulls out a piece of paper.  “‘This certificate entitles the bearer to one drawing by the artist Steve Rogers of any subject the bearer desires’... _cool_!”  He looks over at Steve excitedly.  “Can you draw me Alyssa Milano topless?”

“He probably meant PG-rated drawings,” adds Natasha helpfully. 

“Oh.”  Peter looks only mildly disappointed.  “So Alyssa Milano in a bikini then.  Thanks, Steve!”

Steve winces.  He’d sort of imagined that someone would ask for something like a portrait of an animal or a building, possibly a fancy car, but he can’t go back on his promise.  “You’re welcome,” he says gamely.

Peter basically skips back to where he’s laid the stocking, digging in it for a minute before calling out “Natasha!”

“Whoops.  Sorry, _зайка_ ,” murmurs Natasha, nudging Sharon off her lap.  “Back in a second.”  She inspects the boxes for a while before grabbing one of the larger boxes.  Inside is a large, friendly-looking stuffed elephant, sitting on its haunches and waving its trunk in the air.  She stares at it for a long moment before smiling.  “Cute.”

“Aren’t you going to guess whose present it is?” Drax asks, obviously eager. 

Natasha pretends to consider her options before replying, “This is yours, right?” teasingly. 

“Yes!”  Drax seems proud of himself.  “I hope you like it.  The tag said its name was Derby but I do not see why you would name an elephant Derby.  Elephants do not run in derbies; horses do.  You can call it something more logical if you want.”

“I’ll consider it,” says Natasha, smiling as she takes the elephant back to her spot and lets Sharon cuddle up to her again.  “Thank you, Drax.”

“Wow, you guys are really easily satisfied,” says Peter, not in a mean way.  “Okay, next up is… Laura!”

Laura blinks.  “Oh! All right.”  Seeming uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on her, she quietly shuffles up to the pile of presents and grabs one of the smaller ones.  She’s so methodical about unwrapping the package that Peter coughs, but a nasty look from Gamora silences him.  Finally she reveals a Slinky box and pulls out the Slinky.  “What’s this for?” she asks, looking confused.

“It’s a toy!” says Peter, coming over to her.  “Do you mind?”  He holds out his hand, and when she gives it to him he extends it a couple of times to show her.  “I admit that I, uh, just wanted one myself, and there was a buy-one-get-one-free sale at the toy store, and then I raced them down my building’s stairs and you got the losing one.  Hope that’s okay.”

“But how could you race them?  They don’t have feet.”  Laura looks no less confused. 

“Oh my god, Gamora, hold on a second.  I gotta show her how Slinky racing works!”  Peter immediately sets about cobbling together a makeshift staircase with boxes a ways away from the crowd, Laura watching in fascination.  “You can do the name drawing stuff while I do this!” he calls over his shoulder. 

Gamora shakes her head.  She knew it was only a matter of time before he got bored and moved on to some other pursuit, because that’s always how it goes with him.  “Carina, looks like you’re up,” she declares, drawing a name from the stocking and smiling carefully.  Of all of her sister’s friends, she both knows and likes Carina the best, and she tries to make an effort to be nice to her. 

“Okay,” Carina chirps, giving Nebula’s hand a squeeze before she scoots over to the tree and selects a box wrapped in silver paper.  “Thank you, whoever,” she says politely as she’s opening the package.  It’s a very lucky choice on her part, given that she’s the only person here who’s going to appreciate vaguely grapefruit-scented pink body spray from the Gap, but she does, and she lights up.  “Well, I think perhaps this isn’t entirely fair for me to guess, since I know three of you work at the Gap and it’s probably from one of you, but.”

“Ah, guess anyway,” says Nebula. “You know it’s not the blond guy, so it’s down to two. There’s no prize for getting it right and you’re not cheating or anything.”

Carina blushes.  “Fine,” she murmurs, screwing up her face in concentration. “I guess Natasha.”  

“Good guess.” Natasha looks amused.  “Sorry it’s kind of uninspired.”

“I like it!” Carina exclaims, spraying a bit of the stuff on her wrist.  “It’s a very happy scent.”

Chuckling, Natasha replies, “Good.”

Conveniently, Peter and Laura are wandering back over to join them.  Laura’s playing with the Slinky with a pleased smile on her face, and Peter looks happy too.  “All fixed!” he says cheerfully, taking the stocking from Gamora.  “Okay, so next up is… Sam!”

Sam grins and moseys over to the pile of gifts, pawing through it before grabbing the smallest box.  “I mostly just wanna see what the hell’s in this,” he admits.  What it is is a small bottle of black nail polish that’s skull-shaped.

Sam turns it over in his hands for a moment before laughing.  “Well, I guess my curiosity serves me right.  I suppose I have you to thank for this?” he asks Nebula.

Snorting, Nebula says, “If I bought that I’d keep it for myself.”

“Actually, it’s from me,” Carina admits.

Blinking in surprise, Sam asks, “Oh yeah, you work at Hot Topic, right?  Should’ve known.  Nice one.”

“Uh, ah, yes!” Carina stammers.  At this point it seems like she’s just going to keep on blushing forever.  “I’m glad you don’t think it’s stupid.”

“Nah, Tasha’s been after me to let her do my nails, I knew this day was coming.”

Carina giggles.  “I’m sure it’ll look very nice,” she decides.

Peter’s grinning as he draws out the next name with a flourish.  “Nebula!”

Nebula sighs.  After allowing Carina to squeeze her hand again, she gets up and, rolling her eyes, ambles over to the pile of gifts.  She grabs the biggest one.  “Maybe it’s something sharp,” she murmurs.

It’s the opposite: another stuffed elephant, slightly smaller than Natasha’s, but trunk lifted in the same friendly way.  This one also has two small tusks.  A tiny smile darts across Nebula’s face, but only Gamora and Carina can tell.  “Oh well, this’ll do,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant.  Gamora knows she’ll end up sleeping curled around that thing.

“So, two people brought elephants,” says Quill, looking intrigued.  “Who do you think it was, Nebula?”

She snorts.  “I dunno.  Probably Laura.  It’s something she’d do.”

“Yes,” says Laura.  “Do you like him?”

“Eh,” grunts Nebula, but she hasn’t let go of the elephant either.  She plops back down next to Carina.

“Well,” says Peter with a laugh, “the other boxes _probably_ don’t have actual elephants in them.  Next up, Mary Jane!”

“Cool.”  After a few moments of deliberating, MJ selects one of the smaller boxes.  “I’m not expecting much,” she says with a smile.  When she sees that it’s a Barnes & Noble gift card, her smile gets a little bigger.  “Ooh, nice.  Now...who would bring this?”  Making a show of looking around the room, she adds, “It probably wasn’t any of _my_ friends, because I think Carina is the only one of you who would ever voluntarily set foot in a bookstore.  And it wasn’t any of you from the tattoo shop.  So...it has to be one of Gamora’s friends.”  She rubs her chin playfully.  “I think it was... _you_.”  She points at Sam.

“Good guess.”  Sam grins.  “You’re as smart as you are pretty.” 

“Sure am.”  MJ looks pleased at the compliment.  “And I bet you are too.” 

“And charming.  Girl, you’re too much.” 

Peter looks slightly hurt that MJ is paying more attention to Sam than she ever has to him.  “So Steve’s next, whenever we wanna be done with the flirting,” he says petulantly. 

Steve smiles, unwraps himself from around Bucky and goes over to the tree.  With each gift that gets selected, the remaining pile looks weirder and weirder, which means it’s also harder to tell what the gifts might be.  He finally picks up a large floral-print gift bag with tissue paper poking out of it.  “This looks interesting,” he murmurs, reaching into the bag and pulling out whatever is inside.  Once he gets the wrapping off he pulls out what looks to him like the projects he’d see at student art shows, some multi-colored glass sculpture.  It’s not his medium, but he can appreciate the craftsmanship.  “Yep,” he declares.  “Definitely interesting.  I admit I don’t know much about really modern art, but it’s pretty.” 

“Is that a dildo?” asks Bucky. 

“Uh, Steve, you might want to trade that,” says Natasha, who knows a bong when she sees one.  Sam is snickering. 

“Why?” Steve asks.  “It’s a little more abstract than my usual taste, but it seems like quality work.  I don’t have the slightest clue who brought it, though.” 

“Suit yourself,” says Natasha, smirking.  “And I think it was probably her.”  She nods at Raina. 

Raina grins that cat-that-ate-the-canary grin of hers.  “Good call,” she purrs. 

Peter’s been giggling since Steve opened the bag (he’s had more than one brownie in the last ten minutes so that’s possibly a contributing factor).  Finally he manages to compose himself enough to read the next name.  “Rogue, you’re on!” 

“All right,” she drawls.  She grabs one of the larger remaining packages and grins when it contains a box of assorted chocolates.  “Nice!  Thanks, whoever.” 

“Aren’t you gonna guess?” asks Peter. 

“Well, I guess I can.  Uh… you look like you’d bring somethin’ nice.”  Rogue gestures vaguely at Sharon. 

Sharon shakes her head.  “Thanks, but it wasn’t me,” she admits. 

“Oh.”  Rogue looks surprised, then shrugs.  “Dunno, then.” 

After a moment, Gamora lifts a hand.  “You’re welcome,” she says with the slightly unsure smile she reserves for most of her sister’s friends.  Rogue nods her thanks. 

The next name drawn is Bucky’s, who has some trouble disentangling himself from Steve before going right for the biggest present still left.  “Uh, I hope nobody minds,” he says apologetically before opening it. 

He pulls out a stuffed bear that’s sitting up and wearing a scarf around its neck.  “Oh!” he says.  “Not what I was expecting, but okay!” 

“He’s cute,” Steve declares.  “He’s a he, right?” 

“Uh, I guess he is, yeah.”  Bucky shrugs, petting one of the bear’s ears.  “He’s great.  Thanks, Sharon!”

Sharon’s eyes go wide for a moment, then she starts to giggle.  “You found me out,” she says.  “You’re welcome, Bucky.”

“I just guessed, is all,” he says sheepishly, but he’s smiling.

“Aw, that’s sweet.”  Peter’s smiling as he draws the next name out.  “Gamora!”

Gamora goes for the larger of the two remaining presents, not for any particular reason, and opens it as fast as she can.  Maybe if they finish this activity soon, the party can be over soon, and that sounds nicer than she’ll admit.  

The box yields… what looks like dollar store tupperware.

“Thanks?” she says halfheartedly, shrugging.

Nebula snorts.  “Merry fuckin’ Christmas.”

Gamora resists the urge to roll her eyes.  Of course.  “I should be glad you participated at all,” she points out before going to set the box next to her coat and returning to her spot in the group.

“You’re welcome.”

“Alright, Raina, guess you’re the only one left.”  Peter grins.

“All right,” Raina coos, hopping off the table and then bending over at the waist to pick up the last present.  It’s another of the ones in a bag, so she doesn’t get much of a sense of what it might be before she takes it out, but she’s not worried.  She can work with anything.

“ _Oh_ ,” she hums as she inspects the little package of body butter she has in her hand.  “It’s from Sephora, which makes sense since it’s from Bucky, and it’s… yes, I can definitely make good use of this.”

“So you’re not trading?  Are you sure?” asks Peter, looking a little crestfallen.

“I’m sure,” Raina says thoughtfully.  “A gift like this is one that keeps on giving, isn’t it.  It can be shared, and even though I doubt very much I’ll be sharing it with anyone here-”

Peter looks even more disappointed at this.

“I’ll be able to find someone to play with,” she muses, ignoring their momentary emcee’s pouty expression (and everyone else’s subsequent giggles and horror).  “Something like this is nice enough to save for someone special, I think.”  Under her breath, she adds, “I should give her a call.  She likes being spoiled.”

The various expressions on the others’ faces range from curious to horrified.

Drax is the first to recover (he looked mildly curious).  “Now that we have finished that activity, I think we should play a game!  What about Mafia?  It does not involve the actual Mafia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _счастливого рождества_ ; "merry Christmas"  
>  _зайка_ ; "bunny"


	20. a place you can stand for one night and get gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Anne Weaver hosts a party for the science department. All things considered - especially since Tony is in attendance - it's a rather subdued affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberties have been taken in regards to exactly who is part of the science department, and their relationships to each other. Also certain characters who were killed off in their respective canons are alive and well for the purposes of this story.

“So you’re sure this isn’t going to be weird?” Maria asks, slamming the passenger door shut behind her with one hand and balancing the containers of fresh-baked cookies on the other.

“Why would it be weird?” Maya counters, hurrying around the car to meet up with Maria so they can match step as they head up the driveway.

“Because this is all of your friends and professors from _fancy science college_ and I’m going to be the one of those things that’s not like the others,” Maria says.

Maya rolls her eyes, bumping Maria’s shoulder lightly. “Lots of us bring dates that aren’t from the campus bubble,” she points out.

“Dates,” Maria repeats with a chuckle.

“Or pseudo-dates, whatever,” Maya shrugs. “But I figured you wouldn’t mind helping me out, since I helped you out at the Halloween party. And when you meet Killian, you’re going to understand why ‘I already have a date, sorry’ was the first thing out of my mouth even though it was and still halfway is a lie.”

“Well, as your pseudo-date, I just hope I don’t embarrass you in front of your genius friends,” Maria says airily. “I suppose that being your date also explains why I’m carrying your baked goods.”

“Hey, they were already in your lap,” Maya replies. “But thanks for the help, _dear._ Can I call you dear? How far do you want to take this date thing?”

“Let’s play it by ear,” Maria decides, then mischievously adding, “ _Sweetie_.”

Given that she has her hands free, Maya’s the one that first knocks on the door and then turns the knob to open it and let them in.

“ _Damn_ ,” Maria whistles as they divest each other of their winter coats. “Whose house did you say this was?”

“Doctor Weaver,” Maya says. “She’s the department chair, but she also does enough contract work on the side that _this_ -” Said with a sweeping wave around the tastefully but expensively finished foyer. “Is definitely within her means.”

“Kudos to her,” Maria murmurs.

They head in the direction of the music (not yet Christmas carols, those are probably being saved for later in the night when everyone’s drunker) and soon find themselves in what can only be described as a truly _great_ great room. Save a couch and chairs around the television in one corner and a couple of high tables accompanying a built-bar in another, the furniture is pushed to the periphery of the room; a tree and a fireplace, respectively, take up the other corners. Though the night is young there’s already a respectable crowd ranging in age from undergrads to tenured professors.

But when they’re all eating cookies, drinking red and green cocktails, and wearing stupid felt hats, they’re definitely not as intimidating as Maria was sort of worrying they’d be.

“Oh, Maya, so lovely to see you!” A tall, burly man with a kind smile and big hands waves, then comes over to greet them. “I hoped you’d make an appearance.”

“Hey, Dr. McCoy,” Maya greets, her smile wide. “This is Maria. My date.”

Hank takes the hand Maria extends and shakes it, his hand engulfing hers. “We’re so glad you could join us tonight, Maria! Please, call me Hank. I really only keep up the title in class so the university won’t get antsy.”

“Hey, Hank,” Maria says, feeling suddenly more at ease. She nods to the cookies in her hand. “Where should we put these?”

“Over there on the table will be fine,” says Hank, gesturing to the table covered in trays of baked goods. “I know Anne - er, Doctor Weaver will be happy you’re here, and not just because you’ve brought food.”

“Good to know,” Maya laughs, leading Maria in that direction with a polite nod.

Skye’s standing near Jemma, who’s in the middle of an enthusiastic discussion with two of her classmates about the discovery of water on Mars in the past or something - Skye tried to be interested, she really did, but they’re all using so many complicated words that she had to tune out eventually. So instead she’s gazing around the room, hoping to spot someone she might actually understand, when she sees Maya and Maria come in. “Oh, hey, Jem, Maya and Officer Mom are here!” She tugs on Jemma’s sleeve.

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims, holding up one hand to pause the other conversation and glancing in the direction that Skye is. “That’s funny. I wonder why Officer Hill came?”

“Could go find out,” says Skye, hoping maybe Jemma will wrap up her science talk. She loves listening to it normally, but right now she’s bored and something new and shiny has occupied her attention.

“Yes, all right,” Jemma agrees, excusing herself with a polite smile and letting her girlfriend lead her off. She’s all smiles, though, all friendly waves aimed at everyone around her regardless of how well she knows them (it’s possible she knows every single one of them, it seems like a small enough program) and a sort of personal poise that she doesn’t entirely exhibit at the mall or at mall-related social functions.

“Hey, Maya! ‘Sup.”

“Hey, Skye,” Maya says, confused for just a split second before she sees Jemma standing there as well and puts two and two together. “Cookie?”

“Yes!” Skye grins and grabs one, wolfing it down in the most undignified manner. Hey, Maya’s cookies are practically legendary, she can’t be blamed. And these are pumpkin cookies, which are supposed to be incredible.

“Don’t choke,” Maya says dryly.

“I won’t,” says Skye around a mouthful of cookie.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Excuse her,” she mutters. “Sometimes she loses her dignity at the prospect of sweets.” Much more delicately, she reaches for a cookie and nibbles at it. “These are wonderful, though!”

“Thanks,” Maya smiles. “They seemed seasonal.”

Skye is busy shoving another cookie into her mouth, but she grunts in agreement.

“Did you just arrive?” Jemma asks the older women.

“A few minutes ago, yeah,” Maria agrees. “Good thing your professor has a big enough driveway for all of these people to park and still be able to maneuver out at the end of the night.”

“So why are you here, Maria?” Skye butts in, having polished off her second cookie. She doesn’t mean to be rude, she’s just honestly _curious_.

Maria and Maya exchange glances that amount to a debate over whether to let the girls in on the joke. The consensus: “I’m Maya’s date.”

Skye can’t stop the giggle that forces its way out of her mouth, but she manages to recover and say, “Ah, gotcha. That’s...interesting.”

“Glad you think so,” Maya quips, eyes apparently lighting on someone or something across the room. “Hey, we ought to go make the rounds. Nice seeing you, all right?” And with that she nudges Maria away, leaving the girls with more questions still.

“Well, that was weird.” Skye reaches for another cookie.

Jemma shrugs. “They’re probably just very private people,” she suggests. “I mean, they must be, given that nobody even knew they were an item.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not the most random couple I’ve ever seen, but it’s not something I would’ve guessed either.” Skye shrugs. “Sharon’s out fifteen bucks.”

“Why is that?” Jemma asks, perplexed.

“Oh, don’t you know about the bisexual romcom?” Off Jemma’s continued puzzled look, Skye continues, “So basically there are, uh, were, I guess, three people in the mall who are all into Melinda May: Officer Dad, Officer Mom, and Sif. Basically Darcy figured it out and started a betting pool based on who May’s gonna choose. Personally, my money’s on Officer Dad, but I’ve only got ten bucks in there so I don’t have much to lose. Sharon bet on Maria.”

“Oh,” Jemma murmurs, faintly horrified. She glances about the room nervously, as if erasing the conversation, and adds, “I need to introduce you to Gwen and Peter!”

Skye chuckles. “Okay! I do wanna finally meet the fabled Gwen Stacy.”

Jemma giggles, taking Skye by the hand and dragging her toward a blonde girl wearing a pencil skirt, cream top and blazer and talking quietly with a tall, wiry boy in a hideously ugly Christmas sweater. “You guys!” Jemma exclaims. “Your… dear god, that’s an awful sweater.”

“Isn’t it?” asks Gwen with a grin. “He lost a bet. My grade in Weaver’s class was higher than his, so he got to wear this monstrosity.”

“By two points!” complains Peter, but he’s grinning too. “I still feel like it was rigged somehow. You just _happened_ to buy this in exactly my size.”

“Oh stop whining, you baby.” Gwen nudges him with her shoulder. Then she turns to really look at Skye. “Oh my god, Jemma, is this your girlfriend? Skye? I’ve heard so much about you!”

“That’s me,” says Skye, a little embarrassed by Gwen’s enthusiasm. “Jem’s told me a lot about you too. If I didn’t know better I’d think she had a crush,” she teases.

“Skye,” Jemma hisses. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight.” She fakes a smile. “She just likes to tease me,” she tells Gwen and Peter.

Peter laughs. “Sounds like Gwen. Do you work at the mall too, Skye?”

“Yeah, I’m an Apple drone,” says Skye in the most deadpan tone possible. “Not my career of choice, but hey, it’s a paycheck. Weirdly, hacking’s not an easily marketable skill. At least, not one that keeps you steadily employed.”

“Ah.” Peter nods. “I’m lucky the Daily Bugle needs someone to code the website because no one there even knows what HTML _is_.”

Skye groans. “Normal people, right?”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you refused to wear the stupid sweater, man. Stupid sweaters are required at Christmas parties!”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “No, they’re not. My outfit is fine,” he says, gesturing to the checkered button-up, tie, and cardigan he’s wearing. “Perfectly appropriate for the occasion.”

“Yeah, but you wear sweaters all the time. I don’t know why you got all bent out of shape about the one I suggested,” teases Trip.

“My sweaters don’t have bloody _reindeer_ on them!”

Trip pouts exaggeratedly. “We could’ve matched, though.” He adjusts the headband he’s wearing that features a silly-looking pair of antlers.

“Nope.” Fitz shakes his head.

“You won’t wear it for even one picture?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” a blonde girl with big hazel eyes and even bigger glasses exclaims, rushing over. “I really don’t mean to eavesdrop, but - but _Christmas sweaters_! They really are very important. It’s a socially acceptable excuse to wear sweaters trimmed with sequins! See?” She waves behind her and suddenly a whole group appears, all of them very definitely decked out in horrible Christmas sweaters.

Her own is respectably pink and white, but the white band around the collar does have pink snowflakes and reindeer in it. The others’ sweaters range from nerdy (a green one reading “Thundercats Ho! Ho! Ho!” with an appropriate image, two robots high-fiving over a red and white ski lodge sort of pattern) to classic (black with a repeating pattern of gingerbread men and snowmen under a sleigh, a slightly chaotic mishmash of patterns and colors that’s basically your traditional ugly Christmas sweater) to...well, one of the girls is wearing one that features a unicorn with a glowing red nose. Trip’s a little envious, he won’t lie.

Fitz looks mildly horrified. “Where did you lot even find all of those? They’re...” He trails off.

The other girl in the group, who’s shorter and chewing gum, gestures to the boy wearing the robot sweater. “That one I found because Hiro refused to wear one unless we could find him one with robots on it.” She snaps her gum and looks pleased with herself. “He didn’t count on my online shopping skills.”

“But he really should have figured,” the first girl declares, beaming. “Because you’ve got all sorts of crazy awesome skills!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hiro grumbles. “I’m gonna go get more cookies.” He wanders off in the direction of the food table.

One of the taller boys rolls his eyes and smiles fondly. “That kid. He’s a handful. So, I’ve seen you around on campus. Fitz, right? I’m Tadashi.”

“Hi,” says Fitz shyly. “You’re from SFIT, right? I’ve been following your work with that, that healthcare robot, it’s amazing.”

“Say what now? This guy builds robots too?” asks Trip.

Tadashi chuckles, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I do. I’ve spent the last six months working on a healthcare robot, Baymax, and I just put some test videos up on the web. You might have seen them?”

“Oh yeah! He’s showed them to me. Got all excited, it was the cutest thing.” Trip pats Fitz’s shoulder and Fitz smiles, embarrassed but pleased by the attention. “That’s awesome. So y’all are here for a semester then?”

“Yes,” the first girl says, extending a hand very decisively. “A short term, it’s just a few weeks in January, but I’ve got family out here so they invited us out early! I’m Honey. And you are?”

“Trip,” he says, shaking her hand. “Very nice to meet you. Honey, is that a nickname or something? I mean, mine is, so.”

She giggles, nodding. “Lots of us have them,” she says, gesturing at her friends.

The girl with the unicorn sweater waves. “Gogo.”

“I’m Fred, and this is Wasabi!” The boy in the Thundercats sweater elbows the much taller, much bulkier boy next to him, who groans. “ _One time!_ ”

“Jemma and Honey are both in biochemistry,” Fitz explains to Trip. “I’ll have class with Wasabi and Gogo but I’ve seen the others around. They’re kind of… legendary.” His voice goes embarrassingly squeaky and nervous on the last word.

“Who called for a living legend?” And suddenly there’s Tony Stark, dropping into the conversation like he’s been there the whole time.

Fitz scrunches up his nose. “Hi, Tony.”

“Hey,” says Tony somewhat dismissively before turning to Gogo and Honey. “And may I say, those sweaters are working for you, ladies.”

Honey winces. “I must not have heard that legend,” she says.

Gogo blows a bubble. “You’re Tony Stark, aren’t you?” She doesn’t sound thrilled about it.

“In the flesh.” Tony spreads his arms as if he’s making a grand entrance.

Just then Bruce, looking frantic, runs up behind him. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“Oh, y’know, mingling. Isn’t that what you do at parties?”

Bruce gives him a beleaguered look and hisses, “Yes, but maybe don’t hit on my students?”

“You’re only a TA, technically they’re not _yours_ …”

“ _Bruce,_ ” an elegant dark-skinned British woman croons, appearing at his side and carefully laying a hand on his arm. “So good to see you again. I see you brought a guest.” The last word is sniffed out as she looks Tony over.

Bruce sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Yes, this is Tony. Tony was just leaving to get some refreshments,” he adds, narrowing his eyes at his companion.

“Oh, was I? Is there booze at this party? I didn’t see any, all I saw was the eggnog. Which, I mean, beggars can’t be choosers, but between the two…”

The woman pastes on a smile. “There’s a bar in the far corner, in the main room,” she says. “Open with exceptions.” Which means that the bartender is fully allowed to cut guests off.

“Ooh, very nice. Am I speaking to the hostess? You clearly have impeccable taste, madam.” Tony ignores the furious elbow Bruce keeps driving into his ribs.

“Yes,” she says, at the same time that Honey exclaims, “This is Dr. Anne Weaver and I think she’s a legend too.”

For once Tony looks appropriately cowed. “ _The_ Dr. Weaver? Well, I seem to have fucked this up pretty well so maybe I’ll just go get that drink now, unless… any of you would like anything…?”

Trip’s trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to hide his giggles, while the expressions of everyone else who’s been part of the conversation range from uncomfortable to amused. “I think we’re all good here,” says Tadashi.

“Then I’ll take my leave.” Tony slips out of the room just as quickly as he’d come in.

On his way to the bar, he spots Thor and Jane hanging around near the entrance. “Oh thank god, someone here who isn’t totally lame!” he says, going over to them. “Nice to see you, man. And, uh, you too,” he hurriedly adds to Jane.

“Nice to see you too, Tony,” Jane says with a barely-suppressed sigh.

“Hello there, friend!” booms Thor in his customary enthusiastic way. “What are you doing at this fine party?”

“Oh, well I badgered Bruce into letting me come and, y’know, mingle, but I was actually just on my way to find the bar, you wanna come?”

Thor turns to Jane. “Do you object to my leaving you for a while?”

“I promise I’ll be fine,” Jane laughs, standing on her tiptoes to give him a kiss before waving him off. “Go have bro fun.”

“And you as well, my love.” Thor smiles fondly as she heads toward a group of her classmates, then turns back to Tony. “Let us drink seasonal ales together, my friend!”

“You said it, man,” replies Tony, chuckling.

 

* * *

 

Maya’s slipped back into the room with the food, in hopes of another cookie for Maria and also one for herself. She grabs them and is just about to leave when a smooth voice purrs, “M’lady.”

She sighs. “Hello, Killian,” she says without turning around, busying herself with piling more snacks onto the napkin in her hand.

“Oh, I see you’ve brought some of your excellent cookies. Mind if I partake of one?”

Maya has to keep from laughing out loud at that. “They’re on the snack table for anyone,” she says.

“Well yes, but you’re here, and I think it’s only polite to ask the baker.” Killian reaches around her to take one and bites it in a way that she’s sure is meant to be suggestive, but mostly just looks ridiculous because it’s a fucking cookie. “I hope your date hasn’t abandoned such a lovely creature as yourself?”

“Oh, she wouldn’t dream of it,” Maya declares airily, emphasizing the _she_. “But healthy couples are capable of leaving each other’s side for a minute or two, generally speaking…”

Killian looks a little shaken up by her use of “she” but he quickly recovers. “Of course! I was merely concerned that she might not be appreciating you properly. You definitely deserve to be appreciated.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m _plenty_ appreciated.” She drops her voice, breaks into a grin. “In every way possible.”

“Excellent.” Killian smiles in the faux-happy way she’s come to expect from him. “Do you think I might be able to meet this girl? I want to make sure she’s worthy of you. You know, as a friend.”

“Worthy?” repeats Maria, striding up and wrapping an arm around Maya’s waist casually. “I didn’t realize that was for a third party to decide.”

“I merely speak out of concern for a friend,” says Killian, flashing her his very best I’m-charming smile. It reminds Maya of the way apes bare their teeth as a sign of aggression.

“Uh-huh,” Maria says disbelievingly. “What’s your name, _friend_?”

“Aldrich Killian, at your service,” he says, extending a hand. Maya’s pretty sure if he were wearing a hat indoors, he would tip it. She’s kind of surprised he’s not, honestly.

“At my - wow, uh.” Maria doesn’t even bother to hide her grimace. She does give his hand a shake, but in the most perfunctory way she can. Then she turns to Maya. “I think they’re starting bad Christmas cartoons in the next room. Wanna join the mayhem?”

“Very much,” Maya says with a relieved sigh.

Killian gives them a little wave. “Have a pleasant evening, ladies, and a blessed yule.”

“May your Christmas tree not catch on fire,” Maya coos as she lets Maria guide her away.

The room set up for movie-viewing and the like isn’t as expansive or raucous as the main room, and that’s something of a relief; they manage to snag a small couch toward the front of the room and impulsively Maria twines her free hand with Maya’s. Might as well keep the cover up, or… something like that.

It’s sort of hard to pay attention to the cartoon when at least half of the people in the room are engaged in separate not-quite-private conversations, but that’s okay, because who hasn’t already seen _Frosty the Snowman_ and who really needs to pay attention to get the plot of it? Instead Maria casually starts eavesdropping on whoever’s the loudest.

Which at the moment happens to be Fitz from the Mac Store, and while she doesn’t always understand what his rants are about, she can count on them to be noteworthy.

“See, I just don’t understand what the point of this song is. He’s magicked alive by the hat but then he only gets to be alive for a day? And how is he the same snowman if he’s made out of different materials each year? What is so special about this damn hat in particular? Is it just a lesson in patience? That’s not something I wanted to be reminded of as a kid.”

Trip, who’s sort of spooning him, laughs. “I really don’t think you’re supposed to think that much about it. It’s Christmas magic, y’know? Like Rudolph. Why’d he have that red nose? Who knows. He’s just special.”

“Yes, but Rudolph has a _point_. It’s a typical outcast narrative. Frosty is, what? A horrifying reminder to children that someday their friends will all leave them?”

“Quit being a Grinch.” Trip burrows his face in Fitz’s neck.

Fitz squeaks (apparently he’s ticklish) and murmurs, “Even _that_ one makes sense to me, it’s about the true meaning of Christmas and whatnot. This is just horrifying once you’re old enough to understand the impli-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Trip kisses him. At first he makes a little indignant noise, but then he melts into Trip a little and seems content, flopping against him after the kiss has ended.

“Frosty just evolves.”

Fitz, fully unprepared for the new voice, jumps in Trip’s arms and actually yelps. He calms after a second and, twisting his head, sees Raina sitting a few inches from them, where she definitely hadn’t been a few minutes ago. “Where did _you_ come from?”

Raina shrugs, needlessly smoothing the satin of her poinsettia-print dress over her waist. “It’s not a well-thought-out story, but I get what they were going for. Things change. You can’t fight it, so you might as well go with it.”

Fitz, still twitching a little, stutters, “W-well yes, that’s all very well, but… but you _weren’t_ there just a minute ago and now you are and _where_ did you come from? You don’t even go here!”

“Who can keep track of how these parties go,” she murmurs dismissively before reaching to untangle her hair from her flower crown. She gives Trip a long look as she points out, “Neither does he.”

“Well, no, but he’s my - he’s with me, and you’re…” Fitz stops talking to try and collect his thoughts. “What I mean is, do you even know anyone from this school? It doesn’t seem your… scene.”

“Of course I do,” she exclaims, giggling. “And why would I be boring enough to limit myself to just one _scene_?” But with that, she gathers herself together and flits off just as mysteriously as she arrived.

Fitz blinks after her and makes a confused whining noise. Trip squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Let’s just forget that ever happened,” he suggests. “That girl’s just weird.”

“Okay,” says Fitz, nodding furiously.

“Hey guys, drinking contest starts in five!” Tony Stark calls into the room. “You know you wanna be there!”

“Nope,” say Trip and Fitz in unison, refusing to move.

“Your loss.”

 

* * *

 

“So the rules…”

“There aren’t rules, just drink!” Tony interrupts, downing a shot of whiskey.

“Cheater,” Jane scolds. “There are designated shots.” She gestures to the impossible number of currently flaming shots with Pop Rocks around the rims of the glasses that are currently laid out on the table that everyone is surrounding.

Everyone: Maria, looking incredibly doubtful about what she’s about to do; Professor Selvig, looking even more doubtful, if that’s possible; Tony, who has a confident smirk on his face; Skye, who’s eyeing the table of shots with determination; Peter, who looks comically out of place, like a beagle puppy that’s wandered in amongst a bunch of Rottweilers; Thor, grinning from ear to ear; and Fred, completely relaxed and potentially already under the influence of illicit substances.

Jemma, who’s perched on a bar stool nearby, has to take note of the fact that more than half of the participants in this little contest aren’t actually students here. It makes a kind of sense, probably.

“All right, on the count of three, shots,” Jane instructs. “And remember to extinguish the fires before you drink. Or -” She sighs, then pushes between Peter and Thor and just blows all of the fires out like it’s her giant alcoholic birthday cake. That’s one less thing that can go wrong.

“Awwww,” groans Fred.

“Uh, dude, you’re not actually a dragon, remember?” says Tadashi, who’s sitting next to Jemma watching the proceedings (likely to retrieve his friend once he passes out).

“I know, but it would’ve been awesome!”

Jane heaves a sigh, because it’s stuff like that that she’s worried about. But - they’re all determined to do this, so she’ll chaperone. Or something. She really shouldn’t be chaperoning a professor, but here they are. “One… two… _three_!”

They all down their shots, and there’s a smattering of giggles as they start to feel the effects of the Pop Rocks. “I’m pretty sure this was the best idea for a drink ever,” says Skye.

“Careful,” Jemma calls out before she can stop herself doing.

“You be careful!” says Skye, which means she’s feeling the effects of the alcohol already.

Jemma anxiously searches around her for something that will calm her and, finding nothing, settles for exchanging a mildly despairing look with Tadashi.

By this point everyone is at least on their second shot, though Selvig looks as if he regrets his entire life.

After shot number three, Maria groans and turns on her heel to get out of there. “I can’t be setting a bad example for the children,” she mutters, moving to join Maya on one of the couches near the tree.

“Look at you, being all responsible,” Maya murmurs, giving Maria a very indecipherable look.

“I quite like this. Another!” says Thor, tossing an empty shotglass over his shoulder and grabbing for his fifth.

“Oooooookay, I think I’m done,” groans Peter, pushing away his fourth.

“Damn right you are, dumbass.” Gwen guides him away from the table and toward a couch. “I’d say I told you so, but I know you’ll never listen to me about this.”

Tony downs another. “This is incredible, just fucking incredible. How did I never think to combine Pop Rocks, alcohol, and fire? That’s like my three favorite things in the whole world. Jane, you’re brilliant! I mean not as brilliant as me, but I’ll concede general brilliance.”

Jane shrugs modestly. “I’d rather be brilliant for my work than for novelty shots that I saw on the internet, but I’ll accept the compliment.”

“Good.” Tony shoots her a wink - Thor’s drinking, he won’t notice - and then takes another shot.

Fred giggles. “My throat feels like it’s on fire! And exploding! I am a dragon!” He proceeds to attempt to stand up and do God knows what, only managing to stagger to his feet for an instant before flopping to the floor and beginning to snore.

“Okay, I think it’s time for Fred the Dragon to call it a night,” chuckles Tadashi. He checks to make sure Fred’s not badly injured before hauling him to his feet as best he can. “Wake up, man, we gotta get you back to your cave.”

“Cave? Is there treasure? Do I have a hoard of treasure?” mumbles Fred as Tadashi herds him out of the room.

“The rest of you hanging in there?” Jane asks, sounding skeptical.

“I’m great!” yells Skye, belching. “I’ve never felt better in my whole life! I’m gonna go start karaoke!” She staggers to her feet, then collapses. Making a comically determined face, she attempts an odd sort of shuffling dragging motion that doesn’t quite require her to be upright to get to the door.

“Oh, no,” Jemma murmurs, running to her girlfriend’s aid. She supports Skye under the arms and guides her toward the farthest corner of the room, which isn’t much quieter but any little bit will do and she doesn’t want to even try to move Skye any more than that. “Just stay here, darling. I’m going to get you some water.” Then, after a moment: “And whatever you do, do not lie flat on your back, all right?”

“Why would I?” hiccups Skye. “You can’t sing karaoke flat on your back. But you can do _other_ things... Jemma Simmons, are you…” Those are the last words she gets out before dozing off.

Meanwhile, Selvig and Thor are going head-to-head, downing shots almost too fast for Jane to follow them. Tony has either passed out or wandered away in the last two minutes, she didn't notice which. “You match yourself to a champion, Selvig!” says Thor, grinning. “At this point it would be more honorable for you to concede the contest!”

“Nope!” grunts Selvig. “Not happening!”

“For the love of - _stop_ ,” Jane shouts, sounding a little too frantic. “Please. We get it.”

“Ah, but Jane, we were enjoying ourselves. Or,” says Thor, with a grin, “ _I_ certainly was. Your professor is looking a bit ill, I think.”

“I’m fine,” says Selvig, but he really doesn’t look it. “Where’s that karaoke?”

 

* * *

 

When Jemma enters the kitchen, she’s surprised to see Jane standing at the counter, sipping what could either be a clear alcohol or water but is probably water given that she’s distanced herself from the bar to drink it. “Hello,” she calls shyly.

“Hi,” Jane returns. In a mostly-amused voice, she asks, “Have you just been wandering around getting air since you ducked out of that mess?”

“Well, technically,” Jemma shrugs. “I always get lost in this house. I mean, always in the two times I’ve been, but it’s just so - well. I’m rather used to normal-sized houses or more recently flats where you can stand in one spot and see at least the doors to every room.”

“Makes sense,” Jane nods. “Dr. Weaver really does well for herself.”

“Oh, yes,” Jemma agrees. “She’s marvelously talented, really.” Before she goes off tangenting on their hostess and professor’s myriad other positive qualities, Jemma cuts herself off with a little laugh and a smirk. “And truth told, I’m not upset to have had a few moments to myself. But I really ought to get - well, the whole goal was to come to get water for Skye. Poor thing. She’s good at so many things but apparently fizzy-candy-infused shots contests aren’t on the list.”

“She held on all right,” calls Maya, appearing in the doorway with a casual smile. “I’m not sure if saying that with more practice she could improve is a good thing in this case, though.”

The other two women both laugh at that. “Perhaps not,” Jemma says. “Are you getting water for yourself and/or your girlfriend too?”

Maya shrugs. “I’m not opposed to the possibility,” she declares. “Not that - can you guys keep a secret?”

Jemma nods very ardently; Jane offers a sincere, “Of course.”

“Maria’s not really my girlfriend,” Maya says in a low voice. “I told Killian I already had a date to this so I wouldn’t have to go with him and asked her to fill the role.”

Jane snickers. “Is that why he’s been hovering around you and staring at you across the room all night?”

“Probably,” Maya sighs. “Either that or he’s just a creepy douchebag who isn’t as interesting or special as he thinks he is.” She rolls her eyes and feels oddly vindicated to see the other two do the same. “But Maria, she’s not interested. Not really. I mean, she’s got that thing for Melinda…”

“So the bet really is real?” Jemma exclaims, then looks appalled at herself for having spilled.

“You mean the ridiculous one Darcy set up?” Jane asks.

“Where is Darcy, anyway?” Maya interrupts, eager to get the attention off of herself. “She usually comes with you to these things.”

“Darcy, uh… had plans,” Jane says evasively. So what if the plans were to get her unofficial but totally obvious boyfriend to… do things with her in her own apartment since she had it to herself for the evening. That doesn’t need to get mentioned.

“Well, I’m sorry to have missed her, I guess, but I’m glad she’s not gonna get firsthand evidence that Maria’s out of the running,” Maya muses. “That she looks like she’s out of the running. Because she’s still interested and she’s just doing me a favor. Because we’re friends.”

Jane and Jemma look at each other, both somewhere between surprised (mostly Jemma) and smug (mostly Jane). If this is what it looks like, Jane thinks, then she might have actually managed to catch on to something before Darcy, and she’s not going to brag about that but it feels like a weird sort of accomplishment.

“She’s a good friend, then,” Jemma says diplomatically. “Especially since this isn’t her usual social group.”

“Hey, there are plenty of us who brought non-science people,” Jane points out. “You did, I did. Fitz did. Are they really…?”

Jemma nods. “I’m really glad of it,” she murmurs. “He finally found someone who’s actually going to be make him happy the way he needs, I think. And Trip is a great guy. To think, this all started because some boy came into the Mac Store needing repairs done but not needing them explained to him in layman’s terms.”

“That’s cute,” Jane says.

“They seem pretty happy,” agrees Maya. “I mean, Trip’s always happy, basically, but watching him talk about his boyfriend is one of those oddly life-affirming things. And seeing them together melts my cynic’s heart.”

Jemma chuckles. “I… won’t tell Fitz you said that,” she says. “He’d get all embarrassed and go bright red and not want to ever be seen in public again.” She glances at the clock and makes an embarrassed sort of squeak. “Goodness, Skye’s going to think I forgot about her.” Jane points her in the direction of the glasses and Jemma rushes to fill one.

“Couldn’t have that,” Maya drawls.

“I really couldn’t,” Jemma exclaims before making for the door and calling her goodbyes over her shoulder.

She dashes down the hall - or dashes as best she can with a full glass of water in her hands - but she stops short upon seeing none other than the just-mentioned boys having what looks like a private moment. She knows better than to interrupt those when they look like they’re going well, so she stays very still and tries not to make any noise.

And while she hadn’t been in the shots contest, she’s had enough to drink tonight that she doesn’t feel guilty about semi-eavesdropping.

“Hey look, mistletoe,” Trip’s saying, his amusement obvious in his voice.

Fitz scoffs. “Do you know the actual history of that custom? It’s ridiculous, quite frankly, it all has to do with Norse mythology and the god Loki being an arse and making-”

But midway through his explanation, Trip, laughing warmly, gently grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss.

Without meaning to, Jemma lets out an audible yelp of joy, then makes to cover her mouth with her hand so clumsily-fast that she splashes water on her blouse. She’ll blame this on the alcohol, too.

Fitz, startled, immediately breaks the kiss and calls, “Who’s there?”

“Hello,” Jemma says weakly.

“Oh, it’s you,” says Fitz, relaxing a bit. “What are you doing back there?”

“I was, ah, I was getting Skye a glass of water,” she explains as she walks the rest of the way toward the boys. “When I left her she was passed out on the couch, having just been all - all pouty and out of it.”

“Oh yeah, I heard something about a drinking contest in the other room,” says Trip with a chuckle. “Should’ve known she’d get mixed up in it.”

Fitz is looking impatient. “Shouldn’t you, er, get back to her then?”

“Probably,” Jemma nods. “I… I’ll leave you two, then. Have fun!” And with that she’s gone in the direction of her sad sleepy girlfriend.

“Now, where were we?” Trip murmurs, grinning.

“Right about here, I think,” says Fitz, covering Trip’s mouth with his own.

When they come up for air a few minutes later, Fitz says, “Alright, fine, I suppose I can see the appeal of mistletoe.”

 

* * *

 

“Everyone! Taxis are waiting outside for those who feel unsuited for driving!” calls Hank, who’s making the rounds of the house to ensure that everyone knows it’s time to leave. “Please, don’t drive if you feel even a bit intoxicated!”

Various groups of people make their way towards the door, calling out their goodbyes and well-wishes to each other. Hank tries to shoo them out in his friendly but firm way, knowing that even if the next day is a Saturday, a good night’s sleep is important.

Finally, they all seem to be on their way and the house is quiet once again. Hank shuts the door and turns to Anne. “Well, my dear, I’d say that was a success.”

“None of our students got sick or wound up doing anything embarrassingly sexual in front of us,” she murmurs wryly.

“And that’s certainly an achievement,” he says, grinning. “I supposed we’d better tidy up the house a bit, and then shall we celebrate our accomplishments as party hosts?”

“I like the sound of that very much,” she declares. “Would you indulge a bit of celebrating before we get to the unpleasant task of cleaning?”

He smiles. “Of course!” Pulling her close to him, he kisses her.

“OH!”

Anne turns in the direction of the sound and isn’t wholly surprised to see Jane Foster standing in the doorway, looking alarmed.

“I just, uh, I came to get my coat, which I forgot,” Jane says quickly. “I’ll… do that.”

She sets about doing that, then ducks back out again with a murmured polite goodbye, quick enough to miss the amused look on Anne’s face.

“Oh dear,” says Hank, but he’s grinning. “I suppose the proverbial cat is out of the bag?”

“Seems like,” Anne agrees. “I’m sure we’ll make do.”

“Indeed we will.” Hank laughs and kisses her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immediately followed by [now you’re here in front of me and the future’s open ended](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/6286361).


	21. send it out tonight so we can start again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's family throws a Christmas party, which is just about as irreverent as expected; Jane and Darcy decide it's about damn time that Hanukkah gets some attention too.

“Where do you want this?” Ian asks, lugging a cardboard box that looks heavy enough to topple him over into the grand living room.

“Ask the girls,” Frigga says kindly, nodding to the side of the room where Jane and Darcy are unpacking boxes of their own.

“Darcy?” he calls out, bewildered.

“You’re a dear,” Darcy returns, grinning and waving him over.

The doorbell rings, and Frigga, being closest to the door, answers. Sif and Melinda are standing there, wearing seasonally appropriate clothing. “Oh, hello, Sif!” she exclaims, leaning to hug her as best she can around the giant bag in Sif’s arms. “You’ve brought a guest!” She’s never actually met Melinda, of course, but she knows of her and the context in which Sif has invited her to the party.

“Hi, Mom!” Sif grins. “This is Melinda.” Melinda gives her the smallest smile and a quick wave, which is practically a warm hug.

“What have you brought?” Frigga asks, nodding to the bag.

“Oh, you’ll see,” says Sif with a grin.

“Oh, my,” Frigga murmurs. “Well, come in and have some refreshments! There’s more than enough to go around.”

“Thanks,” says Melinda. “Is there alcohol?”

“I’ll show you!” Sif says eagerly, putting her hand on Melinda’s arm to lead her.

As they go deeper into the house, they pass Volstagg, who is wearing a well-loved Santa suit and a bright grin. “Sif!” he calls. “You’ve arrived!” His three children, who are eating cookies, wave eagerly and call “Hi, Sif!”

“I see you still haven’t managed to get a new suit,” teases Sif.

Volstagg laughs. “And why should I? I’ve only just broken this one in!”

Darcy twirls up, her tutu fanning out around her. “Why, hello, my fellow holiday figurehead!”

“Er...I admit I don’t understand that reference.” Volstagg frowns.

“I’m the Hanukkah Fairy, of course!” She holds out her silver-and-blue skirt, then motions to her wings (which have the same letters as a dreidel painted on them).

“Daddy, what’s the Hanukkah Fairy?” asks Hildy, the youngest child.

“I fly around the whole world for eight days to bring presents to the good little Jewish kids,” Darcy explains, lightly tapping Hildy on the shoulder with her wand, which is topped with a Star of David.

“Oh,” says Hildy, nodding very seriously.

“I hadn’t heard that part of the story,” chimes in Melinda with a smirk.

Darcy shrugs. “What can I say? We have to do something to keep up.”

“I see.”

Stifling a laugh, Sif says, “Do you still want that drink, Melinda?”

“Please.” Melinda brushes her hand against Sif’s arm. This makes Sif twitch and look uncertain, her eyes widening, before nodding and leading Melinda off again.

Hogun wanders up a few minutes after they leave, nodding at Volstagg. “Hello.”

At his side is Hannah from the makeup counter, smiling sheepishly. “Nice to see you,” she says.

Hildy runs over to tacklehug Hogun’s leg. “Hogun! You’re here!” The other two swarm him, chattering excitedly.

“Hello, children,” says Hogun, smiling widely and patting Hildy’s head.

Hannah can’t help but grin as she watches that, which means she’s not paying enough attention to her surroundings to expect it when someone comes up behind her and claps her on the shoulder. “Good evening, fair maiden!” comes the accompanying voice.

It’s Fandral, who’s smiling at her in a way that makes her some sort of uncomfortable she can’t quite place, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired girl that she doesn’t recognize from the mall. She’s classy in the way that a lot of Nordstrom customers are classy, but she’s got a friendly enough smile that Hannah doesn’t find her intimidating.

“Fair maiden isn’t exactly the compliment you think it is, Fandral,” she murmurs good-naturedly.

He looks perplexed by this, but soon shakes it off. “Friends!” he exclaims instead, nodding at Hogun and Volstagg. “I believe I’ve mentioned Linnea.  The nurse.”  He says this last with a suggestive smile.

“Nursing student,” Linnea corrects.

“I’m surprised to meet you,” Hogun says, not unkindly.

“What I think he means,” Volstagg adds, “is that from what we’ve heard of you, you seem much too refined for this one.” With a teasing nod toward Fandral.

“This is a trial run,” Linnea deadpans. “Hogun and Volstagg? The kids, I assume, are yours. And you must be…?”

“Hannah,” supplies Hannah. “Hi. I, ah, I work at the mall too.”

“Well, Hannah,” Linnea declares, “if you don’t mind, I’m deeming you my go-to levelheaded person tonight. You seem much less prone to harebrained schemes than the boys.”

Hannah giggles. “I’ll do my best,” she promises.

 

* * *

 

“He thinks there’s something going on between us that there isn’t,” Lorelei is saying as she alights from the car, bare leg out first like a starlet for the cameras. “That’s the only explanation.”

“You could have stayed home instead,” Raina points out.

“Boring,” Lorelei scoffs. She holds an arm out to Raina and Raina accepts it, burrowing closer into Lorelei’s side than is strictly necessary. “Any time there’s the chance to make an entrance, I take it.”

“You’re good at it,” Raina murmurs fondly. Up ahead of them she spots Nebula and her twee little girlfriend, both of them looking out of place on the grounds of this very refined estate. “Hello, robot girl!” she calls out.

The younger girls turn to look, and Nebula lets out a whistle. “Look at the pair of you,” she says, rather shamelessly eyeing Lorelei up. “This the one you’re going to use that fancy-ass lotion stuff on?”

“She already did,” Lorelei croons, then turning to Raina to ask, “Your tattoo friends?”

“She is,” Raina says, nodding to Nebula. “ _She,_ I’m guessing, is here on the same invitation as you. She’s the lost boy’s coworker.”

“You’re Lorelei from, from Victoria’s Secret, right?” Carina asks shyly.

“Aren’t you cute,” Lorelei murmurs.

When they knock on the door, it’s appropriately Loki (looking sullen in a green sweater and dark slacks that just scream “Mommy dressed me today”) who answers it, and as his eyes rove over the four women before him, he goes from bored to confused to alarmed to intrigued and then back to bored for good measure. “Come in, I suppose,” he says with a shrug.

They do, with amused looks at each other. Inside Heimdall is waiting with a pleasant smile. “Good evening,” he says. “May I take your coats?”

“Sure, Jeeves.” Nebula smirks and hands him both her and Carina’s coats.

The corner of Heimdall’s mouth turns up as he takes them.

Raina tilts her head. “The festivities are elsewhere?” she asks, though it’s an obvious question. It’s so obvious that it’s not at all, because how he answers will imply so much.

“In the other room,” he says patiently, nodding in the general direction.

“Wonderful,” she murmurs, stressing the first syllable. She takes Lorelei’s hand (Lorelei, who didn’t have to hand her coat over because she didn’t wear one, despite it being December) and leads her off.

The next knock at the door reveals Victoria and Isabelle, who are wearing aggressively normal-looking outfits and identical incredulous looks. Heimdall looks pleased to see them. “I’m glad you came.”

“We certainly did,” Victoria says, managing to sound only a little bit guarded.

Nebula stares at them for a long moment, noting their outfits, and comments, “You have pink hair too. Look, Carina, you’re twins!”

From the little that Victoria has overheard, Carina isn’t notably horrible, but she’s still practically an infant and apparently attached to this annoyingly alternative delinquent. So the only thing she says is, “There’s a small difference between a full head of pink hair and streaks,” and then asks Heimdall, “Drinks are…?”

“Probably we just need to follow the sound of chaos,” says Isabelle dryly. The noises from further inside the house are strong indicators that there’s definitely some drunken antics going on.

 

* * *

 

“..but Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

Having the Christmas story actually read to them from the Bible feels a little bit like being in Sunday school, or anyway that’s what Nebula assumes, although she never went to Sunday school, but this Hannah girl actually seems to buy into it, so it’s not anything that they can get snarky about. Loki’s mom even starts a round of soft, polite applause that (after some nudging from Carina) she joins in on as Hannah sits back down, smiling sheepishly.

“That was very nice, Hannah, dear,” Frigga declares (her husband grunts in what’s probably agreement). “Now, I think, ah… Jane? Darcy? You had put together… something?”

Odin grunts again, this time seeming more annoyed, and takes another sip of ale.

“You betcha,” Darcy exclaims, hopping up from her seat with her clipboard (she’s spent way too long decorating it to look like an old piece of paper, which would be a little more convincing if she wasn’t dressed up like a fucking fairy).

Jane grabs her own clipboard and waves to the other participants to get backstage; of course Ian gets up, and to Sif’s surprise, so do Thor, Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral. “It occurred to me,” Jane begins, “that some of you guys might not actually know the Hanukkah story, so I decided I should contribute tonight by sharing it with you.”

“That’s not a horrible idea,” Melinda mutters to Sif.

“With a dramatic interpretation!” Darcy exclaims.

“On the other hand,” Sif quips to Melinda.

“I wanted to read you a more involved version, but Darcy swore up and down that a children’s version would be easier to, well, interpret,” Jane continues, trying not to roll her eyes at her friend. “So she found this one from a Social Studies For Kids website. Here we go.” She clears her throat and begins to read. “The Hanukkah holiday is an old one. It honors the struggle of ancient Jews to restore the Temple of Jerusalem.”

“Long ago, Judea was ruled by the Syrian king Antiochus,” Darcy picks up, making her voice waver spookily on the last words to accompany… Ian, emerging from behind the curtain that’s been set up wearing a plastic crown. “He said that Jews should give up worshiping Yahweh - that’s God - and worship the Greek gods instead.”

While she’s saying this, Ian pulls a curtain down, revealing a cartoon of Zeus at Mount Olympus, then mimes giving a proclamation, which looks more like he’s miming being a cartoon schoolteacher giving discipline to students.

“The Jews didn’t like this,” Darcy adds, nodding solemnly as the other boys emerge from behind the curtain.

“No shit?” Nebula mutters.

“They refused to abandon Yahweh,” Darcy says. “They decided to do something about it.”

As the boys huddle together like they’re planning a football play. All of them are still wearing their terrible Christmas sweaters except for Volstagg.

“I didn’t know Santa was there when they made Hanukkah,” Raina murmurs to Lorelei with a giggle.

“A man named Judah Maccabee got a group of people together to fight back,” Jane chimes in, beaming proudly as Thor steps out of the cluster and assumes an almost Captain Morganesque stance to indicate his leadership.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding?” Loki exclaims.

“Be nice,” Frigga warns.

“These people got more people to join, and soon they had an army,” Darcy adds enthusiastically, waggling her eyebrows at the audience as Hogun and Fandral pull their dates onstage (Hannah looks mildly amused, Linnea looks politely mortified).

“They fought back,” Jane reads as the boys reach for fake swords and begin to battle (and it’s not a very fair battle, considering that it’s scrawny Ian versus four actually athletic guys, to say nothing of the two girls standing behind them exchanging glances). “For three years, the Jews battled the Syrians for control of Judea. Finally, the Jews won!”

As Fandral lunges forward and pretends to stab Ian in the chest.

“How dashing,” Lorelei coos, earning her an out-of-character glare from Linnea.

“They cleaned the Temple of Jerusalem, removing all Greek symbols and restoring the Jewish symbols. The job was finished on the 25th day of the month of Kislev. This is the day Hanukkah is celebrated. The day varies in the Western calendar,” Jane says, trying her hardest to sound serious despite the fact that Volstagg and Hogun are slashing that picture of Zeus with their wooden swords and Thor and Fandral are retrieving an overlarge fake book reading TORAH from behind the curtain. Linnea and Hannah shrug and sit cross-legged on the floor, waiting to be needed again.

“To help celebrate, Judah and his followers lit an oil lamp,” Darcy reads, which prompts Fandral to run backstage for exactly that (really what it is is a candle in a glass holder, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers). Volstagg retrieves a lighter from the pocket of his Santa jacket and lights the candle. “The supply of oil was very low, but this lamp stayed lit for eight days.”

“Hey, Raina,” Nebula whispers noisily. “You got anything else I could light up for eight days?”

“To honor this extraordinary event, Jews today celebrate the eight days of Hanukkah and call it the ‘Festival of Lights,’” Jane says, which prompts Hogun to run backstage for a menorah for Volstagg to light. “They light a special eight-candle device called a menorah.”

“I told you, Jane, you didn’t have to read that line, you can just call it a candelabra or something,” Darcy rolls her eyes before continuing. “People today give each other gifts - so it’s like Christmas and the baby Jews don’t feel sad and stuff - and make special foods and remember their ancestors who fought to take the temple back. And stuff.”

Jane’s turn to roll her eyes.

“And that’s Hanukkah!” Darcy concludes with a sweeping wave, ushering the cast of their little play to step forward and take a bow.

“Or a version of it, anyway,” Melinda says, low enough for only Sif to hear and wry enough for Sif to smile about.

 

* * *

 

By the time the boys start making noise about an ugly sweater contest, Odin has muttered something into Frigga’s ear and Frigga has announced, “We’re retiring for the night, enjoy yourselves, everyone!” Thor envelopes his mother in an affectionate good-night hug, and Loki pretends not to care but looks pleased when Frigga kisses his cheek.

Volstagg is appointed judge because, as Fandral argues, “It would only make sense for Santa to determine the ugliest sweater!” Suddenly there are sweaters being pulled from purses and bags and, apparently, thin air. Soon, half the party guests are decked out and standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a line.

Volstagg walks slowly down the line, carefully looking over each contestant. Most of them are generically ugly, but a few are particularly unique. Jane’s has two anthropomorphized dreidels (that look, quite frankly, more like the teeth-brushing mascots one might see in a dentist’s office) holding up a menorah. Heimdall’s features the Abominable Snowman offering a rose and mistletoe to the viewer, and Sif’s - which makes Volstagg laugh out loud for a full minute - is _almost_ normal, except for the pairs of humping reindeer. Through tears in his eyes, Volstagg says “Sif is the winner!”

Thor, pouting, says to her, “You knew it would make him laugh. You’ve appealed to our juvenile senses of humor!” But he can’t help but grin after a moment. Jane rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Your prize, m’lady.” With great ceremony, Volstagg presents her with a comically cheap pair of giant plastic eyeglasses with holly-themed foam frames.

“A highly coveted prize, I see.” Melinda’s smirking. Sif blushes just slightly and smiles.

After the contestants disperse, to mingle or drink more as they see fit, Raina approaches Heimdall with one of her eerie smiles. “I think yours is more creative,” she tells him sweetly. “How do you interpret the symbolism?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://24.media.tumblr.com/c1c55ae0a4322c5fe52837f34dccc4b8/tumblr_mvtfoghTKx1r2dopjo4_250.gif) is Linnea. And [this](http://www.socialstudiesforkids.com/articles/holidays/hanukkah.htm) is the Hanukkah story that Darcy and Jane perform.


	22. all we need is your best my love, that’s all anyone ever wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having previously drawn names for a Secret Santa gift exchange, everyone of importance now gathers at the Applebee's that Tony rented out for the evening to pass out their presents.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here tonight.  For that matter, I’m sort of wondering why I called you here tonight, and whether it would’ve been better to just skip out on this altogether, but have you ever had a quintessential all-American boy look at you like the world depends on you doing what he’s asked you to?  It’s really unsettling, I don’t usually listen to anybody but I did this time just so he would stop looking at me like that..”

“Don’t suppose you’re gonna get to the point anytime soon, mate,” calls Lance Hunter from where he’s preparing drinks behind the bar.

Tony clears his throat, as if to pretend the interruption was his own idea.  “Well, we’re all here to drink and exchange presents, which are really two of the best things that could happen to you on any given day so I guess it’s as good as any reason to be here.  I’m gonna go get my drink and turn the floor over to the all-American boy himself, Steve Rogers.”

Steve doesn’t roll his eyes in public, but he’s about as close as he gets as he takes the “stage” (which in this case is the platformed entry area where the host station is located).  He beckons to Sharon and Sam to join him, and they do, Sharon holding a large manila envelope clearly marked RECIPIENTS.  “So all of you have been participating in this, which means all of you know how it’s going to work,” Steve says.  “We call a name, the mystery gift-giver gives their gift, the person receiving it expresses gratitude and as much friendship as they’re comfortable with.”

“We’ve assumed you’ve all gone to the trouble of buying actual gifts and not shitty joke gifts,” chimes in Sam with a grin.

“Do we get disqualified if we _did_ bring a shitty joke gift?” calls Darcy.  “Not that I did.”

“There’s no disqualification,” Sharon says with a smile.  “But your recipient will probably appreciate a serious gift more.”

And if other people’s opinions of you matter to you, that would either have served as motivation or will serve as a source of potential shame.  That’s the implication.

“So!” Steve says quickly before any more questions that might be sarcastic can be asked.  “Sharon, the first name?”

She reaches into the envelope.  “Hogun!” she reads out.

Hogun, who’s seated at a booth with Hannah, Carina, Fandral, and Volstagg, gets to his feet.  Thor calls out, “My friend, I have a gift for you!” and hands him a nicely wrapped box.  One corner of Hogun’s mouth turns up when he pulls off the paper to reveal a puzzle map of Hyrule.  “Thank you,” he says, nodding at Thor.

“You are welcome,” says Thor with a grin.

“Now, that’s a great example of the ideal way for this to go,” Steve declares, nodding proudly before reaching into the envelope himself to draw the next name.  “Victoria!”

Victoria, who looks like she would much rather be anywhere but here (she’s sitting at a tall table near the bar, sipping on something that’s the same pink as her hair and covertly texting under the table), waves a hand.

Looking slightly intimidated, Coulson gets up, holding a tall box like he’s afraid he might drop it, and shuffles over to her.  “This is for you.”

Victoria raises an eyebrow.  “Thank you,” she says, and it’s probably the most perfunctory thank you that’s ever been said.  Her expression grows slightly less disdainful as she slices the box’s wrapping open with a fingernail and opens it to reveal a just-slightly-abstract red vase, and to express her apparent approval she nods politely at him before he slinks back to his seat.

_> >[picture attached]_  
 _> >Not the worst surprise present I’ve ever seen._

“She’s totally texting her partner in romance novel romance,” Darcy whispers to Skye.

Skye snorts.  “Oh my god, don’t let her hear you!  She will _literally_ kill you.”

“Next, Fandral,” Sharon calls over the crowd buzzing.  Best to keep this orderly, after all.

Fandral grins and stands up, looking around eagerly.  It’s a good thing that the unofficial kids’ table (Darcy and Ian, Skye and Jemma, Fitz and Trip) happens to be next to the one Fandral’s at, because Darcy rises and tosses a box straight at him.  “Catch!” she shouts.

Fortunately, Fandral’s reflexes are great, because it turns out the box contains a mug with a dinosaur skeleton on it (which reveals the outer skin when warm) and a cat card from Fuego.  “Excellent!” says Fandral, grinning even wider.  “Thank you, gorgeous.”

Darcy rolls her eyes good-naturedly and blows him a kiss before sitting back down, announcing to her table that “See?  Everybody likes dinosaurs!”

Sam’s looking at Fandral’s present a little longingly as he draws the next name.  “Mike!”

Mike’s head jerks up, as if he’s been lost in thought, and he puts his arm up and waves.  After a moment, Fitz leaves his place at Trip’s side to shyly approach Mike, holding a gift bag.  Mike pulls out a clock shaped like Lego Batman and grins.  “Woah, this is so cool!  Thank you. I may just wrap this up for Ace.”  He chuckles, but it’s not entirely a joke.

“I thought you might like it,” says Fitz, his voice shaking a little.  “It-it seemed like something he’d like too.  And it’s useful.  Not...not that it needed to be but… yes.”  He looks embarrassed.

Mike smiles kindly at him.  “Thanks, this is great.”  Fitz looks a little more at ease as he slips back to his spot next to Trip.

“Trip!” calls Sam, then adds, “I swear I didn’t do that on purpose” in response to the scattered chuckles.

Hogun walks over and hands Trip a box.  “Oh my god, a Companion Cube!” says Trip as he unwraps it to reveal a six-inch plush cube.  He gives it a squeeze.  “Ooh, it’s even weighted!  This is so awesome.”

“You’re welcome,” says Hogun, looking pleased, in his way.

“Okay, seriously, _I_ want any of those last three,” jokes Sam.  “Next up, Jemma!”

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims, springing up from her seat and smoothing her blouse out for no real reason other than to have something to do with her hands that’s not cling to her girlfriend.  Billy Koenig heads over towards her, holding a gift bag that has a penguin on it.

“Oh, that’s precious!” she coos, smiling one of those face-crinkly smiles.

He smiles.  “I thought you’d like it! Hopefully you like the actual present too.”

“I’m sure,” she says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a gray-and-white stuffed cat with what she could swear is an inquisitive look on its face.  “I love it!  What a cuddler she’ll be, I’m sure.”

“Not as good as me though, right?” asks Skye, grabbing Jemma’s free hand.

“Of course not,” Jemma promises.

“Get a room,” Darcy groans.

“Speaking of Darcy!” Steve exclaims, having pulled another name from the envelope.

“Sweet,” Darcy says, hopping up and looking around expectantly.

Akela, who recently started working at Men’s Wearhouse and is polite but reserved, slips out of her seat, offering a bag. “I hope it’s to your liking.”

Darcy pulls out a scarf - it’s one of the Gap ones, but it’s nice, and she does use a shitton of scarves when she can get away with it - and grins.  “It’s kickass,” she promises, offering one of her be-nice-to-the-new-kid smiles. Akela smiles back and sits down again.

Steve is doing that proud smiling thing again, and Sharon nudges his shoulder, whispering, “You look very pleased with yourself.”

“We did a good thing, I think,” he says before pulling a new name from the envelope.  “Ian, you’re up!”

Ian scoots out of the booth to let Darcy reclaim her seat, then hovers around the edge, smiling awkwardly as he waits for his present to appear.

After a moment, Mack manages to extricate himself from the booth where he, Bobbi, Natasha and Bucky are sitting and strides over to hand Ian his present.  Inside is a copy of John Scalzi’s _Lock In_ , which excites Ian enough before Mack says, “Open it and turn to the title page,” with a grin.  It turns out to be autographed and Ian touches the page almost reverently before whispering, “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” says Mack, still grinning.

As Ian resumes his seat, he’s excitedly pointing at the book and waving it at Darcy (she’s less excited but she can pretend because that’s what you do when you date a person, probably).  Sharon waits for him to be settled before calling out, “Bobbi’s turn!”

Bobbi is skeptical of this whole prospect, but she likes to be surprised, so she pushes herself out of her seat gracefully.  “Do your worst,” she says cheerfully.

“Oh, I’m up!” Sam grabs the box that he’d rested against the podium and walks over to hand it to her.

“Don’t I feel special, getting one of the organizers’ gifts,” Bobbi declares as she opens the box.  Soon she’s pulling out a blue t-shirt with a white line-drawing of an AT-AT and letters explaining it as in a technical manual.   “Oh, hell yeah,” she exclaims, delighted.

“Not quite your color, darling,” calls Lance.

“Suck it,” Bobbi sings out before reclaiming her seat and exchanging a devious giggle with Natasha.

“Bruce,” Sharon exclaims before that devolves into another pointless argument.

Bruce, looking a little surprised, waves his hand from where he’s seated with Tony, Rhodey, and Pepper.  Bucky slips from his seat and goes to give Bruce a small bag.  “It’s not much,” he says apologetically, “but I thought it might come in handy.”

Bruce pulls out a small atom-shaped stress ball and a wormlike plushie.  He grins at the stress ball and looks confused for half a second before reading the tag attached to the plushie and laughing.  “ _C. elegans_ ,” he says, tapping it on its nose.  “The first multicellular organism to have its genome sequenced.  Very nice.  Thank you, Bucky.”

“Sure thing,” says Bucky, a bit shyly.  “I don’t know much about science but I got Tony’s help with it.”

“It’s great,” says Bruce, squeezing the ball a few times as if to test it.

“That was cute as hell,” comments Sam before drawing another name out.  “Fitz!”

Fitz, startled, lifts his head from Trip’s shoulder and, looking more like he’s about to deliver a presentation to the class than receive a gift, stands up.

There’s a moment of silence before Victoria realizes it’s time for her other role in this game, and quickly she dashes a text off.

_> >Back in a bit.  Then out of here soon.  Time to play nice._

Then she stands and edges out from her table to hand the poor startled little boy (well, college student, but he looks like a toddler) a package.  “I figure it’s referential as well as useful,” she says with a shrug.

He unwraps it with shaking hands and yelps in surprise when he pulls out a plastic container that has ELEVENTH DOCTOR’S SONIC SCREWDRIVER SCREWDRIVER written on it in cheerful block letters.  “Oh my god! Thank you!”

Victoria raises an eyebrow.  “I’ll take that as a sign I made the right choice,” she says dryly, but there’s a hint of a smile playing across her lips.  Much more than anyone else usually gets.

“Satisfaction all around,” Steve declares without a trace of irony (it makes Natasha and Bucky chuckle).  ‘Next up, Coulson!”

Coulson stands up, looking excited and vaguely nervous (basically his normal facial expression).  When it’s Lorelei who stands up from her place at the bar next to Raina and Loki, he can’t keep the look of horror off of his face, but tries to cover it up after a moment.

“I figure you’ll be able to make good use of this,” Lorelei purrs, handing him an immaculately (if hyperfemininely) wrapped box and tossing her hair.

Coulson swallows and gingerly unwraps the box.  Inside is a long, pink object that has gently rounded tips and buttons on one end.  He stares at it for a long moment, afraid to admit that he doesn’t know what this is.

“Oh my god,” Maya murmurs, sounding oddly reverent.  “It’s a Mona 2.”  She stares at it a long moment, then adds, “Is this a white elephant sort of arrangement, by any chance?”

Meanwhile, Coulson is still examining the object, turning it over in his hands as if it’s an alien artifact.  Finally he chances to push one of the buttons, and the thing starts vibrating in his hand.  He turns an interesting shade of pink and croaks, “Oh.  So that’s what it does.”

Lorelei smirks, looking entirely devious.  “From what I hear, you could use the help,” she says.

The room goes dead quiet for a good ten seconds while everyone tries to decide what to make of this, whether or not they should be offended or laugh like it’s a bad joke (they mostly know it’s not), and then Raina and Lance burst out laughing, almost exactly in unison.  Everyone else stares at _them_ now, and that attention makes Lance self-conscious enough to realize exactly what’s going on and that it might not be a good thing that his instinct matches hers.  Trip, meanwhile, contributes to these shenanigans by cheerfully pressing the button on Fitz’s new Sonic to make it buzz in concert with Mona 2.

“T-thanks,” says Coulson, quickly shutting the vibrator off and putting it back in the box while sitting down.

_> >Holy shit.  This… is quite a night._

“Could you get us a transcription of Victoria’s text conversation?” Darcy whispers to Skye.  “I bet it’s hilarious.”

“I mean...yeah, if I wanted to _die_ ,” says Skye, and she only kind of sounds like she’s joking.

“I think her freaking out is rubbing off on you,” Darcy says, nodding to Jemma.

“Excuse me!” Jemma hisses, looking severely offended.

“Also I seriously doubt that was within the price point.  That retails for 140 bucks.”

“All right,” Sharon says loudly, like she’s trying to corral everyone after that disaster. “Next, Akela!”

Akela blinks, then waves from her seat.  To everyone’s surprise, it’s Tony who sidles out from his table and hands her a box, saying, “I wasn’t quite sure what to get you, but hopefully it’ll do.”

Inside is a ridiculously fancy phone camera add-on that works as both a camera and a telescope.  Akela, shocked, stammers, “I-I don’t think this cost $20.”

Shrugging, Tony says, “It was the equivalent of $20 for me.  Merry Christmas.”  Still looking awed, Akela nods her thanks at him.

“That’s very generous of you, Tony,” Steve says, sounding slightly surprised.

“He buys his friends,” Maya calls out.

“I resemble that remark,” says Tony with an easy grin.

Sharon raises an eyebrow.  “Anyway,” she says.  “Billy!”

Smiling widely, Billy stands up and waves.  Sif makes her way to him, handing him a gift bag that contains a black water bottle.  “It’s not the most interesting present, but it seemed useful,” says Sif with a smile.

“No, it’s really cool! Thank you,” replies Billy, looking pleased.

“At least you won’t be stealing _my_ water bottle anymore,” mutters Eric with a smirk.

Sam is chuckling as he announces the next name.  “Tony!”

“Oh, cool,” says Tony, not budging from his seat but giving a cursory wave.

Smiling sheepishly, Pepper reaches into her overlarge bag and hands a package to Tony.  “This is slightly awkward,” she declares, “but here.”

“Oh! Well, don’t mind if I do,” he says, tearing into the paper eagerly.  He pulls out a stuffed bear that’s waving jauntily while wearing a two-piece tuxedo and holding a lightsaber.  “Awwww, he’s cute!  And this lightsaber is pretty kickass.”

“Read the card,” Pepper mumbles.

Tony does, silently, and he seems to swallow before saying, his voice shaking only a little, “Thanks, Pep. This is great.”

“You’re welcome,” Pepper says, reaching to pat his hand.

Most everyone is watching this moment transpire, despite how private it ought to be (most, not all - the usual suspects are otherwise occupied, Victoria and Lance and also the table of babies, who aren’t disinterested but instead busy canoodling), and so after a moment Steve clears his throat loudly and pulls a new name.  “Maya!”

And Maya stands, her usual dare of an expression in place.

Fandral slides out from his table, holding a carefully arranged gift bag.  “M’lady.”

Maya resists the urge to groan.  “Thanks,” she says tersely, reaching into the bag and coming away with, to her utter lack of surprise, a scented candle noted to be an aphrodisiac.  “Just what every girl needs, clearly.”

Grinning like a cat, Fandral runs a hand through his hair.  “I hope you...enjoy that.”

Now, it’s the urge to start laughing that Maya’s resisting, and oh, she’s resisting it _hard_.  She’s also resisting the urge to exchange a disbelieving glance with Maria, who’s across the table from her, because that wouldn’t seem entirely appropriate for reasons she doesn’t exactly have a grip on.  “I’m sure,” she settles for responding.

“How many of these gifts are going to be suggestive?” Steve whispers to Sam.

“I dunno, man, you know this crowd,” says Sam with a shrug and a playful grin.  He draws the next name and calls, “Clint!”

“Oh, that’s my turn,” Steve exclaims, turning to fumble in his bag for an all-too-neatly-wrapped container that he jogs over to where Clint is sitting.

“Gee, I wonder what this is,” says Clint with a grin as he unwraps the obvious tupperware container.  “Ooh, cookies!”

“If they’re not a kind you like, I’ll be glad to exchange them,” Steve says.

“No, they’re great,” says Clint, stuffing one into his mouth.  “Thanks,” he says around it.

“You know he’s going to eat half the container by the end of the night,” Sharon murmurs, not without a certain measure of fondness.

“His present, his decision,” Steve declares.  “Next up, Rhodey!”

Rhodey stands up and waves to the room.  “Hey, y’all.”

Wearing the most disdainful expression he can, Loki walks over and hands him a wad of tissue paper.

Rhodey suddenly looks less excited.  “Thanks,” he says warily as he pulls off the paper to reveal a black beanie hat.  “It’s just what I always wanted.”

“Good,” says Loki, either not catching Rhodey’s sarcasm or not caring.  He ambles back over to his seat at the bar.  Rhodey shrugs and puts the hat on.

“Bucky, you’re next,” Sharon calls out.

Bucky looks slightly nervous and waves from his spot next to Natasha.  He doesn’t stand up, just squeezes Natasha’s hand.

It’s Lance who brings him a gift bag, saying, “Merry Christmas, mate.  I wasn’t sure what to get you so I figured this’d do.”

It turns out to be a bottle of Bacardi 151.  Bucky stares at it for a moment, just sort of dumbfounded, before he says, “Uh, thank you!”

“Try torching it,” adds Lance with a wink.  “That’s a good time, for sure.”

Natasha grins. “Thanks from me too, Hunter.”

Meanwhile, Steve and Sharon are exchanging slightly more apprehensive glances.  Sam murmurs “Don’t worry, guys, we can go do something else while those two destroy their livers” while he draws the next name out. “Maria!”

“I don’t know whether to be excited or worried,” Maria jokes as she stands.

She decides to go for the former when it’s Bobbi who approaches her, with a tastefully envelope-sized present.  “I don’t know if you’ve heard of them, but it’s worth a try,” she explains.

Maria rips the envelope open, finding two tickets to a Delta Rae concert inside.  “I admit I haven’t.  What’s their vibe?”

“Murder songs mixed with life-affirming twang,” Bobbi says with a smirk.

“Sounds perfect.”

Sharon smiles warmly at her friends.  “Next, Mack!” she announces.

Mack grins lazily.  “Over here,” he says, waving.

Rhodey stands up and hands him an impeccably wrapped box.  “For your _Halo_ tournaments,” he says.

Mack’s grin only widens when the box turns out to be for an elaborate PlayStation 4 headset.  “This is kickass. Thanks, Rhodey!”

Steve smiles before he rummages in the envelope, then smiles even wider when he pulls the next name.  “Sif,” he calls out.

Thor and Fandral whoop enthusiastically while Sif stands with a grin.  “I’m ready,” she says.

Jemma squeaks from her seat, because _she_ isn’t ready, she’s suddenly positive that she made the wrong choice.  Trying to reassure her, Skye slips her arm around her girlfriend to give her a quick squeeze.

And after appreciatively nuzzling Skye back, Jemma stands and approaches Sif, shyly tucking hair behind her ear.  “Here,” she says, handing a professional-quality present box over.

“Ooh,” comments Sif as she picks at the tape.  “I’m intrigued.”  She pulls off the lid to reveal a knife with a four-inch blade and makes a delighted noise.  “It’s beautiful!”  She gently removes it from the sheath to examine the blade.

‘I’m so glad you like it!” Jemma exclaims.  “I mean, I… it’s not my usual area, shopping-wise, but I thought it was neat.  There’s, ah, something the website called Swedish FireSteel in the handle?  For camping or apparently the apocalypse.  It sounded very practical.”

Sif’s eyes gleam.  The look on her face is so disconcerting that Volstagg pipes up, “Perhaps don’t test that out here in Applebee’s, eh, Sif?”

“Oh, please. I wouldn’t dare,” says Sif with a playful eyeroll.  “There are technically police here.”  Her tone is light, but she wouldn’t want to upset Fury or Maria.

Jemma, meanwhile, has scurried back to her seat and taken a large sip of her margarita, laughing nervously.  Skye pets her hair and murmurs reassuringly, although she can’t help but glance enviously at Sif’s knife.

“Well, then,” Sharon says, reaching for the next name.  “Pepper!”

Pepper stands, and she can’t help but smile when she sees that Maya’s the other one doing so.  “What a surprise,” she says.

“I know,” Maya quips, “who’d have thought?”  She hands Pepper a small gift bag, smirking.  “They’re not too fancy, but I figured they were both classy and interesting enough.”

Pepper chuckles.  “I’m sure they’re great, whatever they are,” she says, and that’s confirmed when she reaches into the bag and pulls out a pair of silver earrings, each a pair of interlocking silver spirals.  “They are!  They’re gorgeous.”

“Glad you like,” Maya declares, sliding back into her seat as Pepper does the same.

“Lance.”  Sam manages to pack both confusion and the slightest hint of disdain into his reading of the next name.  His expression tends toward the latter emotion.

“Oh, right, forgot I was included in this game.”  Lance leans on the bar and waves, as if anyone’s going to forget where he’s been during the event.

“How did that happen, anyway?” Darcy calls out.  “I mean, clearly you made good on the other end of it, but you don’t even go here.”

Shrugging, Lance says, “Hey, I wasn’t gonna argue.”

“He probably thought it would be an easy way to get free stuff,” Bobbi announces before finishing off her drink.

“And I’m sure you agreed to participate out of the goodness of your heart,” replies Lance.

“Team spirit,” Bobbi retorts coolly.

“Is whoever got Lance something going to reveal themselves?” Sharon asks.

Grinning widely, Raina pulls a messily wrapped, vaguely triangular package out of her purse and slides it down the bar to where Lance is standing.

Lance’s brow furrows as he unwraps the package.  His confused expression only deepens when it turns out to be a bouquet of large rainbow-colored lollipops, with a coordinated bow tied around them.  “The fuck?” he says to no one in particular.

“Don’t you like them?” Raina asks, making her eyes go wide in the most intentionally manipulative way.

“Er…” Lance looks at Bobbi with a _help me_ face and Bobbi just shrugs innocently.

“Dunno what to tell you,” she mouths, while everyone around her (and in the entire restaurant) is trying not to laugh.

He glares at her, then is silent for a long moment.  “Thanks,” he finally says, and the word sounds like it barely made it out of his mouth.

“You’re welcome,” Raina replies sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

To his credit, Steve is managing to avoid laughing as he draws the next name, but only just.  “Eric!”

“And that’s my cue,” Sharon says with a smile, bouncing over to hand the brother not currently filling his brand new water bottle a long, flat box.

“Ooh!” he says, smiling eagerly as he carefully unwraps it.  He giggles when he pulls out the yellow-and-black checkered tie inside.  “Is this meant to be Hufflepuff colors?  That’s awesome!”

“I hadn’t intended that consciously,” Sharon admits, “but it could work that way!  I’m glad you like it.”

“I do,” he says. “Thanks!”

“Carina, your turn next,” Steve calls, nodding politely at the pink-haired girl.

She giggles nervously, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she looks around the room.  It’s something of a relief when she sees that it’s Maria, Officer Hill, approaching, as she knows that won’t end in some silly joke gift she won’t be good at interpreting on the fly.

“Here,” Maria says, handing over what’s pretty clearly a CD wrapped in Disney princess paper.  “Don’t mind the paper, it was left over from something I gave my niece.”

“I don’t mind at all!” Carina exclaims, taking care not to rip it too much.  “I think it’s cute.”  And as such she neatly folds it and sets it on her table before she takes the time to admire the present inside, a copy of Taylor Swift’s _1989_.  “Thank you!”  She lowers her voice conspiratorially to add, “I’ll have to save this for when I’m home alone, but I like it a lot.”

“Good,” Maria says with a smile.

“Sam’s next,” Sharon says, elbowing him gently.

“Bring it on!” he says cheerfully.

Eric ambles over and hands him a large, colorful package.  “I hope you like it.  I wasn’t quite sure what to get you but I figured you liked this sort of thing,” he says, sounding almost apologetic.

Sam digs into it eagerly and, upon seeing that it contains a book called _Incredible LEGO Technic: Cars, Trucks, Robots & More!_ he yelps, “Oh my god!  Best present ever!”

“Oh good.” Eric smiles. “I figured everyone likes LEGO.”

“You have no idea how much I love LEGO,” says Sam, as seriously as if he were talking about a religious icon.

“He really does,” says Natasha with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Speaking of you,” Steve tells her, waving her slip of paper with a smirk.

“Oh!” Carina exclaims, jumping up again and looking only slightly startled to have the attention back on her so quickly.  She scurries to give Natasha a simple gift box (bright green and tied with an unnecessary but decorative white ribbon) and then stands back with an expectant smile.

Natasha looks amused, pulling on the ribbon to undo it.  “Cute little box. Ooh!”  She pulls out the tiny pocketwatch pendant inside, dangling from a matching chain.  “This is nice.”

“Thank you,” Carina says immediately, ducking her head shyly.  “I mean, I was hoping it wasn’t too…”  She trails off, waving a hand in the way that means that Natasha can fill in her own adjective, as any of them would do.

“No, it’s lovely,” replies Natasha, softening her voice a bit.  “Thank you.”  She dangles it towards Bucky. “Put it on me, James?” He does so, running his hand down her arm afterwards almost shyly.

Something about that (probably what she knows of their relationship) is enough to make Carina blush, but she manages a simple, “Well, happy holidays!” before she returns to her seat.

Sharon smiles, because one of her favorite things about the whole big relationship is the way that they’re all different with each other, then reads out, “Raina!”

Raina, for her part, twirls around on her bar stool with legs crossed daintily, her face reading something between expectation and smugness.

After a moment, Mike stands up, holding out a gift bag, and goes over to her.  “I don’t know if you even know what this is,” he says, “but Ace and I are big fans and it, uh, seems like something you’d be into.”

She raises an eyebrow, because there aren’t many areas where her interest and a preadolescent boy’s interest might match up, but she grins when she pulls the _Adventure Time_ DVD out of the bag.  “Perfect,” she declares.

“Awesome.”  Mike grins.  “Enjoy.”

“I will,” Raina promises.

“Is there something I’m missing here?” Steve asks Sam in a whisper.

Sam smirks.  “It’s, uh, it’s picked up an a following outside its intended audience.  Apparently popular with potheads.”

Steve nods, trying not to make a face.  “I see,” he says.  “Uh, next is Lorelei.”

And she twirls around even more dramatically, making come-hither eyes at the entire room.

Clint gulps visibly, then approaches her in much the way a frightened child would approach a particularly intimidating teacher.  “Here,” he says, his voice shaking.  It’s a small bag, and he almost drops it.

“Thanks,” she coos, and after exchanging an amused glance with Raina she adds, “Bird boy.”  Then she turns all of her attention to the bag, which yields what’s either unintentionally or perfectly consciously hilarious: a silver necklace with a charm shaped like scissors.  There’s the more sexual interpretation, there’s the interpretation that she’s scary and dangerous, whatever it is it’s funny.

“It just seemed like something you’d like,” says Clint with a shrug.  “They’re pretty sharp.  I figured that out myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replies, giggling wickedly.

His expression wary, Steve draws the next name.  “Fury,” he calls.

Fury, who is seated as far away from everyone else as possible, grunts.  “Here I am,” he says.  “I suppose.”

Grinning, Natasha gets up from her booth and saunters over, handing Fury a bag.  “Meant with love,” she says, her eyes gleaming.

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”  Fury eyes the bag suspiciously.  Finally, he reaches inside and pulls out a tissue-wrapped object that turns out to be a mug with WORLD’S GREATEST DAD written on it.  A black mustache sits above the words.

Natasha smirks and doesn’t say a word.  Fury, after a long moment, sighs.  “Thank you, I suppose.  At least _most_ of you aren’t on drugs.  I suppose that’s all a father can ask for.”

Sam’s snickering as he draws the next name.  “You’re up, Sharon!”

“I’m eager and scared,” she quips.

“You don’t _get_ scared,” Steve corrects playfully, batting at her shoulder.

“Don’t be scared! It’s cool, I promise.”  Skye works her way out from her table and hands her a box.

“I’m pretty sure I trust that,” Sharon teases as she opens the box and pulls out a set of knee and wrist guards, ones she knows are ideal for derby.  “Thanks,” she says sincerely.  “You’re not gonna be offended if they wind up with stickers on them eventually?”

Skye shrugs.  “I figured they would.  Kick ass, Sailor Moonshine.”

Sharon fakes a curtsy.  “Much obliged,” she giggles.

Smiling fondly at her, Sam says, “Your turn, Steve!”

Steve is wearing his usual amiable expression as he surveys the crowd for who’s got his gift, and when Bruce stands up and waves at him shyly, Steve smiles.  “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” says Bruce quietly, “but I figured...well, just open it.”  He thrusts a gift bag at Steve.

“I’m sure it’s great,” Steve assures, reaching into the bag and pulling out a copy of _The Hobbit_ that’s much nicer than the standard paperback.  “Thank you!  You know, somehow I’ve never managed to get my own copy of this?”

Bruce looks surprised.  “Oh!  Well...I’m glad, then.  I figured if you hadn’t already read it, you needed to, and if you had, well, it’s a nice copy.”

“It is,” Steve agrees warmly.  “Is it vintage?”

“Uh...I think it’s just meant to look it, but it’s nice, huh?  Apparently based off of the original printing that used Tolkien’s own artwork.”

“Well, I really like it,” Steve says.  “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce smiles, looking alternately happy and embarrassed.

“And next up, we’ve got Loki,” Sharon declares after sending a grateful nod Bruce’s way on Steve’s behalf.

There’s an “ugh” from the bar, but Loki does turn to face the rest of the room.

Looking only slightly nervous, Ian rises from his table and approaches.  “So I figured you would appreciate this,” he says before handing Loki his present.

Raising an eyebrow, Loki unwraps it to reveal a copy of _Frankenstein_.  He chuckles.  “Very amusing, yes.”

Ian is about to explain the joke further, but he thinks better of it and offers a polite nod instead.  Once the also-polite couple of seconds have passed, he hurries back to his seat.

“Volstagg is next,” Steve announces. 

“Oh! Excellent!” Volstagg calls.

Trip brings him a brightly-wrapped package.  “Lemme know if you want something different, cause I can do it.  But I figured these were a crowd-pleaser.”

Eagerly, Volstagg rips off the paper to reveal a tupperware container full of brownies.  He pops the lid and pulls one out, groaning happily after taking a bite.  “These are fantastic!  I’m sure my family will enjoy them as well.  Although,” he adds mischievously, “they might only get a few.  Thank you!”

“Anytime, man,” says Trip with a grin.

“You’re a lucky fellow,” Sharon tells Volstagg.  “Those are fantastic.”  She rummages in the envelope to pull the next name.  “Heimdall!”

“Oh, right, yes,” Hannah exclaims, hopping up from her seat to present Heimdall with a shiny blue gift bag, complete with ribbon tied around the handles.

“Thank you,” says Heimdall with a smile, carefully untying the ribbon and pulling the present, wrapped in tissue paper, out.  It’s a small plush wolf puppy that makes him smile wider.  “Summer,” he comments, reading the tag attached to its ear.

“I thought, well, he’s… Summer's owner knows all sorts of things mysteriously, just like you, and he's slightly more obscure so you probably wouldn't have him,” she finally manages to say, pointedly ignoring Raina’s whispered shock that “little Jesus girl” is that familiar with those books.

That makes Heimdall chuckle.  “Indeed I do not.  Thank you, he’ll go nicely with Ghost.”

Hannah beams.  “I’m so glad,” she says.  “You should take a picture.”

“I will,” he says, looking pleased.

“Don’t sit down too quickly, Hannah, you’re up next,” Steve declares.

“Ah, that’s my cue!” says Volstagg cheerfully, hoisting a bag up from the floor and over to her.  “I also included some artwork from the little ones, they insisted.”

“I bet it’s adorable,” Hannah grins, opening the bag to reveal a plush brown-and-white bunny with oversized feet.  “And this is adorable too!”

“I had help selecting it.  Hildy will be glad to know you like it.”

“You can give her my sincerest gratitude,” Hannah says solemnly.  

“Does he have a name?” Carina asks in a whisper as Hannah takes her seat again.

“Not yet, but I’ll think of something,” Hannah declares.

“Melinda, you’re up,” Sharon says.

“Oh my,” Melinda deadpans.

Heimdall stands up, offering a box.  “I hope it’s to your liking,” he says.

Melinda unwraps the gift in complete silence, and only the slight quirk of her mouth upward gives her thoughts on the contents - wine and fancy chocolates - away.  “You remembered.”

“But of course,” he says.

“What the fuck,” Darcy whispers with wide eyes.  “Guys, is this… did I actually miss something?”

“I don’t think so,” Jemma replies, trying her hardest to be quiet.  “Or at least… it doesn’t look like, like present-tense something?”

“It’s so weird,” murmurs Skye.  “Like finding out your mom had a fling with one of your teachers or something.”

“Skye!” says Sam, trying not to laugh.

“Hey!” she says, waving in an attempt to cover up her previous topic of conversation.

Fury stands up and walks over slowly from his isolated corner.  “Here,” he says, handing her a box that’s wrapped in the most haphazard way possible.  “I’m not very good at wrapping things.”

“Eh, no big,” says Skye, demonstrating how very little it matters to her when she tears off chunks of the wrapping at a time.  “Oh my god, these headphones are so cool! Thanks!”

“Thought you might like ‘em,” says Fury with a hint of a smile.

“And last but not least is Thor,” Steve announces.

Thor stands, grinning.  “I’m ready!”

It’s Melinda who slinks out to hand it to him, adding, “I hope you like it.  I don’t know shit about professional sports.”

Opening it to reveal an Aaron Rodgers jersey, Thor grins even wider.  “Excellent choice!  Thank you!”  Melinda looks pleased.

As the various groups settle in for more drinking and socializing or pack up their things to leave (Victoria is the first one out the door), Tony, who’s been drinking this entire time, calls out, “Merry Chris’mas to all an’ to all a good night!”  Pepper has a longsuffering expression on her face.


	23. but save your resolutions for your never new year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of New Year's Eve shenanigans. There are several developments in the bisexual romcom, various couples are adorable together, and there is a semi-ridiculous downtown party at which a certain Nazi makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring cameos from Kurt Wagner, Laurie Collins (as "wholesome blonde girl at party"), and Betty Brant, because they seemed to fit.

Coulson holds the door to the restaurant for Melinda, trying to hide his shaking hands as he shuffles her present from one arm to the other.  It had surprised him enough when Melinda accepted his invitation to brunch that he spent a panicked forty-five minutes on the internet researching every potential restaurant in a fifty-mile radius to be sure he picked out the best one.  This place has good reviews and a low-key but upscale atmosphere that he figures will appeal to her.

She gives him a look of what he hopes is approval - the corner of her mouth turns up slightly, so probably? - and steps inside.  A cheerful dark-haired woman whose nametag reads BETTY leads them to a booth in the far corner of the well-light room, leaving them with full water glasses and a promise to return in a few minutes.

For a moment they both sit there, alternating between glancing at each other and resolutely looking anywhere but at each other.  Finally Coulson smiles and says, “I, uh, I got you a present,” carefully hoisting the box onto the table.  “I hope you like it.”

“Oh,” says Melinda, her tone betraying nothing about her feelings, but she starts unwrapping the gift anyway.  She looks momentarily baffled when it’s revealed to be a blender - the Nutri Ninja, which has been good to him for years and he knows how much she likes smoothies - but then she smiles.  “Thank you.”

“It’s really good for smoothies,” he says, then feels silly for volunteering that information when it’s printed clearly on the box.  “I just...I thought you might like having a really nice one, since you mentioned yours isn’t very good.”

“It’s not.  This should be better.  Thanks!”  She sets it on the seat next to her and reaches into her purse.  “I also have something for you.”

He feels his heart speed up.  “Oh, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.”  She hands him a small gift box tied artfully with a white ribbon.

He gently tugs at the ribbon, sure his nerves are obvious.  Inside the box is a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like foxes.  “Wow, thank you!  They’re very nice.”

“They seemed to suit you.”  Melinda’s tone is almost warm.

Coulson hopes his expression isn’t too pathetically hangdog.  Betty the waitress comes to take their orders - waffles, scrambled eggs, and orange juice for Coulson, steak and eggs and black coffee for Melinda - before leaving them to the awkward silence again.

Feeling confident, Coulson slowly eases his foot over towards Melinda’s.  When he brushes it up against hers, he can’t tell for a few moments whether she’s even noticed or not, because her expression remains the same.  He decides to be more assertive and leave it touching her foot deliberately.

This results in her gently but firmly nudging his foot back to his side of the table and asking, in a tone that implies she won’t mention what just happened under the table, “So Maria tells me you’ve been having an exciting couple of weeks at work.  Any good stories?”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t remember you being so squirmy about boys before,” Jemma observes.

“I’m not _squirmy_ ,” says Fitz, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, you are,” Jemma replies coolly.  “You’re vibrating in your seat.”

Fitz scoffs, but he does make a visible effort to stop even the tiniest movements of his body.  “I’m hungry, ‘sall.”

“Right,” Jemma murmurs, but she apparently isn’t convinced.  And/or she finds it endearing how enthusiastic he is about Trip, that’s a very definite possibility.  “Did you text him when we got here?” 

“Yeah, he said he had lunch at 12:20.  That’s only two minutes ago, he probably needed to grab his wallet or something.”  Fitz’s efforts at keeping still have failed, and he drums his fingertips on the table absentmindedly. 

“I’m sure he did,” Jemma says, suddenly softer.  “Skye should be out in a few minutes, too.” 

“Somebody call for me?”  Trip calls from across the food court.  He ambles over, smiling widely.  “Cute boy named Fitz, maybe?” 

Fitz goes scarlet but looks pleased, unable to keep his own smile off his face.  “Hi, Trip!  We brought lunch.”  He gestures to the plates piled high with sandwiches on the table in front of him.

“Gosh, and lunch too?  Today must be my lucky day.”  Trip leans down to kiss Fitz, and Fitz, though he’s usually shy about PDA, is too happy to object. 

“You’re adorable,” Jemma says before she can stop herself. 

“Oh, like you won’t be worse when Skye gets here,” says Fitz, practically nuzzling into Trip as he sits down next to him. 

“I’m not criticizing,” Jemma exclaims.  “Nor am I competing.  I’m merely observing.” 

“I mean, she’s right,” says Trip cheerfully as he takes a bite of a sandwich and gulps it down.  “We are pretty damn adorable.”  He runs his hand through Fitz’s hair affectionately, and Fitz closes his eyes like a kitten happy to receive pets. 

“Who’s adorable?  I mean, I assume you’re talking about me.”  Skye comes up from behind Jemma to wrap her arms around her shoulders.  “Or you could be talking about her too, that’s also accurate.” 

“Shush,” Jemma giggles, turning her head to give Skye a kiss.  “We’ve brought lunch.  And I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page about tonight.” 

As soon as Jemma says the word “lunch” Skye pounces on the food, wolfing down half a sandwich before Jemma’s even finished her next sentence.  She pauses long enough to say, “Oh yeah, tonight.  Are we all going out, did we decide on that?” 

Expectantly, Jemma looks at the boys to answer, though she’s pretty sure her vote is obvious. 

“Do we _have_ to?”  Fitz’s question is just the slightest bit whiny. 

Trip strokes his arm.  “I’d prefer to stay in too, yeah.  There’ll be a lot of crazies out tonight.” 

“You guys are no fun.”  Skye pouts and takes another bite of her sandwich. 

“We made cookies, though!” Jemma chirps.  She knows how to get through to her girlfriend. 

That does seem to cheer Skye up.  “Cookies?” she mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich.  “What kind?” 

“Holiday cookies!” Jemma says, opening the container to reveal sugar cookies decorated with fireworks represented by sprinkles. 

“Ooh!”  Skye finishes off the last of her sandwich and grabs two cookies.  “Thanks!” 

Trip takes one too.  “Clever,” he says, meaning the sprinkles.  “Did y’all make these this morning before you came?” 

Jemma nods, nudging Fitz so he can do some of the bragging. 

“It-it was my idea, sort of,” he says, almost shyly.  “I said we might bring you something nice along with the sandwiches, and then she went off madly googling recipes.” 

“I’m fairly sure we didn’t mess them up,” Jemma adds. 

“They taste great to me!” says Skye, reaching for another. 

Trip grins.  “Yeah, you guys did good.  We’re pretty lucky, huh, Skye?” 

He happens to ask just as she’s shoving the whole cookie in her mouth.  “Yeah,” she says around it, doing her best to grin too.  “Lucky.” 

“Disgusting,” mumbles Fitz, rolling his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, good,” Maria exclaims as she runs up.  “Are you off?” 

Maya glances at her watch, then back at Maria with an amused expression.  “Almost exactly,” she says.  “What’s up?” 

Maria pulls a face, then lowers her voice before explaining, “I’m having dinner with Melinda tonight and I still haven’t gotten her a Christmas present.” 

“You do know it’s New Year’s Eve by now, right?” Maya asks. 

“Yes,” Maria grumbles, “but nothing I thought of was good enough and now I’m stuck and would you maybe help me look?” 

Maya sighs.  “What were you thinking?” 

“I don’t know,” Maria sighs, “what kinds of things would she even like?” 

“You would know better than I would,” Maya points out. 

“Well, but you know more about, I don’t know, shopping stuff,” Maria says.  “I might be the worst shopper to ever work in a mall.” 

“Jewelry is easy,” Maya offers, taking Maria’s arm and steering her in that direction. 

It being Nordstrom, there’s a fair amount of jewelry, much of it overpriced (really, why you would pay more than _maybe_ $30 for a rock you’re going to stick in a hole in your ear baffles Maria) but at least some of it is classy enough. 

“I have no idea where to start,” Maria murmurs. 

“Pick a jewelry item,” Maya says diplomatically. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear any jewelry,” Maria murmurs.  “But I guess earrings?  Those are the least likely to get in the way.”  She eyes a rack of dangly earrings and frowns.  “Usually.” 

“So, stud earrings,” Maya clarifies.  “See, we’ve narrowed it down!”  

“You’ve narrowed it down,” Maria corrects. 

“You’re helping.”  Rolling her eyes playfully, Maya leans closer to the racks of earrings to inspect.  “Favorite color?” 

“Black?” 

“I was asking about hers, not yours,” Maya teases. 

“I’ll have you know I prefer blue,” Maria retorts.   

“Then look for blues,” Maya suggests.  “Find something that will make her think of you and not just because you bought it for her.” 

This in mind, they browse the racks for a good few minutes, contemplating, until Maria lifts up a pair of green-blue-purple studs that change color when they move.  “Do you like these?” she asks. 

Maya’s eyes go wide for a moment before she collects herself.  “They’re pretty,” she agrees. “Classy but not boring.  Interesting without being at all flashy.” 

“Perfect,” Maria says.  She heads for the counter and starts to rummage for her wallet, but Maya steps up beside her and shakes her head. 

“I’ll get it,” she says.  “Employee discount.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Maria frowns. 

“How about this, then,” Maya proposes.  “You take me to that concert and I just won’t pay you back for the ticket this time.” 

Maria smiles gratefully. “You’re the best,” she says. 

After they’ve paid, before they’ve parted ways, Pepper catches a glimpse of them lingering by the door.  She notices the way that Maya’s eyes sparkle, the way that Maria’s hand lingers on Maya’s arm just a moment too long, and she thinks to herself that she knows exactly what’s going on. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Jane says softly, sneaking up behind Thor with a grin. 

Thor turns around, grinning as well.  “I missed you, my love!” 

“I used to think it was sappy to say things like that after only a few hours,” Jane observes.  “That’s not really the case now.  Are you good to take a break?” 

“Yes, business has been slow today.  Not many parents wish to buy toys on New Year’s Eve, it seems.  Would you care for something hot to drink?”  Thor gestures toward one of the mall’s exits.  “The coffee shop across the street serves excellent cocoa, I am told.” 

“I’d be open to that,” Jane agrees. “We should get to spend some part of this day together.”

Thor chuckles.  “Yes, it is a shame that they have decided tonight is the optimal time during which to rearrange the store.  I think they think they are being generous by only keeping us until 11:30.  Still, we’ll have some time tonight.” 

“Not enough,” she says decisively, taking him by the arm.  “But we can steal this little bit of time to make up for it.  Do you need to grab your coat or anything?” 

“No, I shall leave the store in the capable hands of Mr. Wagner.”  Thor waves at his coworker, Kurt, who is grinning in an understanding way, before they head for the door.  “You are done for the day, yes?” 

“I am,” Jane agrees.  “Which means you can look forward to my sad attempt at baked goods when you get home.  To my home.  After you’re done.” 

Thor smiles at her babbling.  “Jane, it’s quite all right.  I assumed I would be coming to you.  I would not expect you to wait alone in my apartment for hours.  Although,” he adds, “if you would like a key, I would gladly have one made for you.” 

Jane probably squeaks at that, but acknowledging that would make it worse.  “I wouldn’t object to a key,” she manages to say.  

“I shall get to work on that, then!”  Taking her hand, he leads her toward the coffee shop.  “What would you like to drink?” 

“The chocolatiest cocoa they have to offer,” she declares. 

 

* * *

 

Melinda is already at a table when Maria arrives (of course she is, she’s never late to anything - not that Maria is late, either, but Melinda is just more on time, or something like that) and Maria ducks over with a sheepish smile, murmuring something about traffic that isn’t involved enough to be an excuse but might be an explanation if one is needed. 

“It’s fine,” Melinda says with a small smile that’s warm in its own way. 

Maria breathes a sigh of relief that she doesn’t even bother hiding.  “How has your day been?” she asks, immediately mentally cringing at the obviousness of the question. 

“Good.  Had brunch with Coulson earlier.  He gave me a blender.”  Melinda chuckles. 

“A… really.”  Maria chokes back a laugh.  “Exactly why?” 

Shrugging, Melinda replies, “He said he has one and it’s worked for years.  It’s a nice blender.  It was thoughtful of him, I suppose.” 

“Right,” Maria agrees.  “Very practical.”  She reaches into her own bag to pull out the gift-wrapped jewelry box.  “On the subject of gifts, because I know that I’ll forget otherwise.”  That part is a lie, she couldn’t forget it if she tried, but it’s nicer than saying what she means, which is _if that gift didn’t do the trick, give mine a try_. 

“Oh!  Thank you.”  Melinda carefully unwraps it and smiles at the earrings.  “They’re lovely.” 

“I figured, better late than never,” continues Maria, shrugging.  “Since we haven’t had a chance to get together since before Christmas.”  And since she’d waffled on the actual content of the gift until this afternoon. 

“Yes, it’s sweet of you.”  Melinda reaches into her bag and pulls out a much larger box.  “I have something for you too.” 

Maria’s eyes go wide for a moment before she composes herself, grateful she’s good at putting on nonchalance.  “Thank you,” she says very sincerely, opening the box carefully and pulling out a black exercise jacket, long enough that there’s no risk of it riding up while she’s working out and stylish enough that clearly some level of thought went into picking it out.  “Wow,” she adds.  “Really thank you.  This is pretty swanky for exercise gear.” 

“I thought you’d like it.”  Melinda looks pleased. 

“I really do,” Maria says, feeling grateful that Melinda’s taste seems to align with hers. 

A blond waiter comes over.  “Hello, ladies, can I get you drinks before you order?” 

“The house red, please,” says Maria, looking to Melinda a second after.  “That sound good?” 

“Please.”  Melinda nods. 

“That,” Maria confirms to the waiter.  “Thank you.” 

He nods and strides off to get it.

In the hours leading up to the evening, Maria had been increasingly nervous about her ability to hold a conversation with Melinda.  But, as it turns out, Melinda’s much more relaxed and talkative even before the wine arrives.  She seems to genuinely enjoy Maria’s company.  They talk their way through several glasses of wine and their plates and before long Maria notices that they’ve been inching progressively closer across the table.  They’re close enough that Maria could swear she can feel the heat off of Melinda’s skin, and it occurs to her that there’s really only one logical thing to do at this point. 

But she’s sure as hell not going to be the one to do it first. 

Melinda’s the one who finally bites the bullet and leans a little closer, seeming hesitant.  “Maria,” she says, though it’s more of a breath than anything. 

And this should be the thing that Maria’s been waiting for, but suddenly the combination of that uncharacteristically gentle tone of voice and Melinda’s gaze fixed on her so intently and who knows what else seems like - too much.  That’s the only way to put it.  Maria leans back and takes a breath before she can think twice, exclaiming, “It’s possible I’ve had too much to drink.” 

Melinda’s laugh is a loud huff of breath.  “As have I, apparently.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Maria says quickly.  “Let’s… let’s order dessert.  And maybe get refills on our water.” 

 

* * *

 

“Can I take the garlic bread out yet?” 

“No.  For the last time, I’ve timed it _precisely_ so that the butter will be melted and the bread perfectly crisp on the edges.”  Sam rolls his eyes.  “I’m glad Steve and I were in charge of food.  Sharon eats like a normal person, but you two would just eat pizza rolls and Doritos all day if we didn’t put something else in front of you.” 

“Guilty as charged.”  Natasha smirks and shrugs lazily.  “What can I say?  I’d rather use my time in other ways.” 

Sam shakes his head.  “Don’t know why I bother with y’all.” 

“Because we’re so cute,” says Natasha playfully, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. 

Just then a knock at the door announces Bucky’s arrival.  “You go, you gotta unlock the ninety locks,” says Sam with a grin. 

“Only eighty-five,” Natasha calls over her shoulder. 

“You’re paranoid and it’s ridiculous,” Sam replies in a singsong tone. 

Bucky ambles in, sniffing the air.  “Ooh, garlic bread!” 

“Just coming out of the oven,” says Sam as he pulls out the tray.  “No, you can’t have any yet.”  He deflects the hand he knew was reaching for a slice.  Bucky pouts.  “Wait till Steve and Sharon get back, then we’ll eat.” 

“Oh, is he picking her up from work?  How adorably normal.”  Bucky chortles on the last syllable. 

Natasha and Sam chuckle too.  “I mean, I think some people would argue that this is weirdly normal too,” Sam points out.  “Except for the part where the five of us are all into each other, maybe.” 

“Yeah, that pretty well excludes us from normalcy.”  Natasha’s wrapped herself around Bucky from behind and is petting his hair. 

“Do you think you can get away from Octopus there to chop mushrooms?” Sam asks Bucky.  “I’m making you animals eat salad tonight.” 

Bucky tries to maneuver out of Natasha’s arms, but she just grips tighter, and so finally he just awkwardly walks them both over to the counter and obediently begins chopping.  “I’m comfy,” explains Natasha. 

“You’re weird is what you are.”  Sam is assembling the rest of the salad. 

They banter back and forth about who, exactly, is the weird one for a few minutes (Natasha argues that expecting people to eat salad is pretty weird) and after a while there’s another knock at the door.  “Oh good, they’re here!” says Sam.  “Octopus, you’re up.” 

“Fine.”  Natasha finally detaches from Bucky and heads for the door.

“Can I get to the oven?” Sharon asks when the door opens, forgoing an actual greeting. 

“Oh no, don’t tell me you have an exact process to make garlic bread too,” Natasha groans playfully. 

“No such thing,” Sharon promises.  “I just have some ready-to-bake cookie dough that’s been sitting in the break room freezer all afternoon just waiting to be used.” 

“What she means,” Steve offers, “is may she please use the oven?” 

Sharon rolls her eyes fondly.  “If you insist.” 

“Oh sure, cookies are fine.  He just insisted on waiting for you to eat.”  Natasha jerks her thumb at Sam.  “And we’re hungry.” 

“I promise I’ll put them in fast and we can get to the rest of the evening’s events,” Sharon says solemnly, moving forward to give Natasha a belated hello kiss. 

Natasha practically purrs.  “Sounds good, _зайка_.” 

“We’re going to watch things while we eat, right?” Steve asks.  “Because I had a great idea.” 

“What’s that?”  Natasha sounds only vaguely distrustful. 

“ _Power Rangers_!” Steve says gleefully.  “Remember watching that when we were kids, Buck?” 

“Oh my god, I haven’t thought about _Power Rangers_ in so long.”  Bucky grins.  “I’m up for some nostalgia.” 

Natasha looks skeptical.  “I’m missing some cultural reference.” 

“That means we have to watch it!” Steve exclaims. 

“Cool. I liked _Power Rangers_.  ‘Cept they always made me be the Black Ranger at recess.”  Sam laughs in an unhappy sort of way. 

“Well, I’m sure it’s on Netflix,” Steve says after giving Sam’s hand a sympathetic squeeze.  “Tasha, would you get us set up?” 

She nods and grabs the remote, opening Netflix, searching for “power rangers,” and, not wanting to admit she can’t tell which one he’s talking about, selecting one at random. 

They all start eating, but when the theme starts Bucky looks up, confused.  “I...don’t think this is the right one.  I don’t remember them being animal-themed.” 

“I had no idea the Power Rangers were Australian,” Sharon comments once the show actually starts, idly nibbling a piece of garlic bread. 

“This really isn’t the right one,” Steve frowns. 

But then one of the kids attacks another and a horribly CGI-animated tiger effect shoots from his body, and Natasha and Sam laugh so hard that they almost tip their plates.  “Oh my god, this is so much dumber than I remember it being.  And I remember it being pretty dumb,” Sam says, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“I kinda want to see if it gets dumber,” adds Natasha with a grin. 

Steve looks at Bucky and Sharon to gauge their interest, then shrugs.  “What the heck,” he says.  “Let’s keep going.” 

“Who brought the booze?” Sharon asks devilishly. 

 

* * *

 

Isabelle feels a little silly knocking at this point in their relationship, but she doesn’t have a key and the effort required to dig out her phone and text Victoria to let her in is too much after a long day.  Not that many of her clients had scheduled training sessions on New Year’s Eve (the fitness cravings start _after_ New Year’s), but she’s been running errands for most of it and she’s pretty much done with people. 

“Come in, the door is unlocked,” Victoria calls from inside the apartment. 

So Isabelle does, and the first thing she sees is her girlfriend lighting candles on the table.  This strikes her as funny - it’s an unusual sight.  “I see you pulled out all the stops,” she quips, dropping her purse by the door. 

“It seemed like a good time to try that,” Victoria shrugs.  “The bread is still in the oven.” 

“Can I do anything to help?  I feel a bit useless just standing around.” 

“Is sitting around better?” 

Isabelle chuckles.  “Not really, but my feet’ll be glad of it, anyway.”  She sinks into one of the chairs at Victoria’s table and, after a minute, asks, “Would you like me to pour the wine?”  It’s sitting on the table in front of her, so she might as well ask. 

“We’d be that much closer to drinking it if you did,” Victoria quips, just as the timer goes off and she hurries back into the kitchen. 

Rolling her eyes fondly, Isabelle opens the bottle and fills their glasses.  “I could get used to this,” she calls, “coming home to a beautiful woman making me dinner.” 

“Only if you did the same for me sometimes,” Victoria says nonchalantly. 

“Oh, of course!  I make a mean steak.” 

“You’ll have to prove it.”  This as Victoria glides back into the room, two perfectly-arranged plates of pasta-and-bread-and-salad balanced on either hand.  “I assume this looks okay?” 

“Delicious.  Much like yourself,” Isabelle says with a smirk.  “I haven’t gotten a kiss hello yet.” 

Victoria rolls her eyes and sets the plates down carefully before leaning to do just that.  She’s in enough of that sort of mood that it’s a pretty teasing kiss, but it’s a kiss nonetheless.  “Hello,” she murmurs, smirking.  “And how was your day, dear?” 

“Long.  Tiresome errands, tiresome people.  I missed you.” It’s said with all the emotion of a statement like “I had eggs for breakfast,” but Victoria will know she means it. 

“I missed you, too,” Victoria drawls.  “You know how many people get uncreative and decide to propose on New Year’s Eve without having already gotten the ring?  Too many.”  It’s unclear whether she means that the proposal stories were making her feel needy or whether she means that the people were pissing her off and Isabelle does not.  Both count for something. 

Scoffing, Isabelle takes a bite of pasta.  “This is excellent,” she murmurs fondly.  “Thanks for having me over for dinner.” 

“Of course,” Victoria says.  “I’d much rather dinner than whatever nonsensical party Pepper was about to invite me to before I told her I had plans.” 

“I certainly hope you do,” says Isabelle.  “I’m feeling _suggestible_.” 

 

* * *

 

“Dinosaur nuggets!”  Skye’s so excited she practically jumps up and down. 

“I thought you might like them,” Jemma says, beaming. 

“And I hope you have tater tots to go with them?” asks Trip with a grin. 

“Of course!  We’re not animals.”  Fitz emerges from the kitchen and nestles into Trip, who puts his arms around him. 

“Hey…” says Skye, and she’s using the tone that means she’s got an idea.  “So...there’s this party going on at some bar, I dunno, Darcy’s there, and I was kinda hoping you guys would wanna go after all?” 

Jemma winces.  “A bar party,” she echoes. 

“With loud people,” adds Fitz, looking like he’d rather skydive with an angry bear. 

“Yeah, that might not be the best idea,” says Trip, almost apologetically. 

Skye pouts.  “Well then, what are we gonna do?” 

“Well, we were planning on staying in and hanging out anyway,” Jemma points out. 

“We have alcohol!”  Trip nods to the paper bag full of bottles that’s been sitting on the counter for a few days in anticipation of tonight. 

Fitz chimes in, “Look, we can watch _Pacific Rim_ or something.  Anything you want.  But no bar!” 

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Jemma says, dropping her voice to add, “However you want.” 

Skye’s perked up as they’ve been listing off incentives, and with Jemma’s last she grins and practically purrs, “Well, I _guess_ that’ll be okay,” before going to put her arms around Jemma and kissing her. 

“Good,” Jemma murmurs.  “Now, we’ll get the food, you two just settle in.”  And she and Fitz go into the kitchen to retrieve the plates of snack foods. 

Trip obediently ambles over to flop into his customary chair, while Skye perches on the couch waiting for Jemma to come back so she can flop on her lap.  Once she does, Skye gloms onto her, maneuvering around until she’s both comfortable and able to reach her plate easily. Fitz puts in the movie and hands Trip his plate before settling into his boyfriend’s arms. 

Skye’s almost quiet until the theme song, when she starts singing along.  “This doesn’t even have words,” protests Fitz half-heartedly.

“I can make up words, if you want.” 

“ _NO!_ ”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Linnea asks. 

Hogun sighs, his expression translating to _she isn’t my girlfriend exactly_ , but what he actually says is, “Visiting family.” 

“Looks like I’m going to have to rely on you for moral support tonight,” Linnea says to Sif, grinning mischievously. 

“She’ll be your undoing,” Fandral teases.

“Oh, I’ve undone her a few times in the past and she didn’t seem to mind,” Sif quips, taking a sip of her beer. 

It takes a second, but once Fandral gets it, he rather openly gapes, which makes both women, and Hogun, chuckle.  “You seem surprised,” Linnea says. 

“No,” he sputters indignantly.  “I just - need a moment to process.” 

“Odds that ‘process’ is code for ‘imagine it’?” Linnea asks Sif in a stage-whisper. 

“Ten out of ten,” Sif says.  “Going to let him get away with it?” 

Before this can continue, though, Darcy and Ian practically skip up, both waving enthusiastically (Darcy in a way that suggests she’s already a couple of cocktails in).  “What’s up?” she asks. 

“Breaking Fandral’s brain,” Linnea says solemnly. 

“Ooh, fun,” Darcy giggles.  “You guys gonna be around for a while?  We’re still making the rounds, but I’m trying to figure out who’s actually gonna make it to midnight.  I hear they have a karaoke machine here.” 

“Count me out of the singing but into the laughing at our drunken coworkers,” Sif says.  “Ian, you look surprisingly clear-headed.” 

“I’m the DD,” he announces.   

Darcy glances around the slowly-filling room impatiently, like her attention span is dwindling.  “Back later,” she calls suddenly, pulling Ian in the direction of a booth along the wall that’s currently occupied by Bobbi and Mack.  “Just you two tonight?” 

Bobbi shrugs.  “I’m between mistakes,” she says.  “I told Clint he could stop being a weirdo and come out of his little corner to hang out, but he said something about ghost-hunting.” 

“Don’t even ask with him,” Darcy says.  “It’s better that way.  Which I’m sure you know.” 

“Do I ever,” Bobbi agrees. 

“Well, you’re gonna do karaoke, right?” Darcy presses.  “I’ve heard about your performing past.  I bet you could get up there and give us entire perfectly choreographed Britney Spears numbers.” 

“I did drill team,” Bobbi corrects.  “Baton twirling and Britney Spears are two separate things.”  Not that she didn’t learn a few things involving the latter during her misspent youth, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“She sings, too,” Mack says wryly. 

“ _Not_ karaoke,” Bobbi insists. 

“Fine,” Darcy groans.  “Be a spoilsport.  I’m going to go recruit someone who’ll actually play along.” 

“You didn’t even ask me, though,” Mack calls as Darcy and Ian disappear into the crowd again, Ian shrugging apologetically. 

The next targets are Carina and all her friends, and Darcy appears next to them with a wide smile.  “Hey,” she singsongs.  “Happy almost-New Year.” 

Carina laughs. “You, too,” she says.  “Hi, Ian.” 

Ian lifts a hand in greeting, still looking rather self-conscious. 

“So are any of you gonna karaoke?” Darcy asks, ready to jump into her pitch. 

“Of course there’s going to be karaoke,” says Nebula. 

“Do not let Tony find out there’s karaoke!” an unfamiliar brown-haired man exclaims, butting into the conversation rather spectacularly. 

“He’s going to find out anyway, Happy,” Rhodey says from behind him.  “You’re sure as hell not getting him out of here before midnight.” 

“Karaoke after midnight, then,” apparently-Happy exclaims. 

“Too late!” Tony crows from the other end of the bar, causing Happy and Rhodey (and Pepper, who’s currently seated beside Tony nursing a Manhattan) to groan (Christine, on his other side, politely hides her laughter behind her hand). 

Darcy shifts to complimenting all of Carina’s friends on their party clothes (only one of them, the red-haired girl, looks remotely appropriate for a glitzy New Year’s event, but they all have a certain charm) as a way to butter them up, but she’s momentarily distracted when Raina waltzes up, gives Nebula a kiss on the cheek just to see the others’ confused expressions, and then drifts toward the door, where for some ungodly reason Grant Ward is standing drinking what’s doubtlessly a shitty beer. 

“Good _evening_ ,” Raina coos. 

“Hi,” Ward says, barely concealing his confusion. 

“Just hitting every party on the circuit?” she asks through a smile that looks fake but that somehow he falls for. 

“Something like that.” 

“Isn’t that the Nazi?” asks another of Carina’s friends - Rogue, Darcy’s pretty sure, which is a kickass nickname. 

Carina nods.  “I don’t know why in the world she’d be giving him attention,” she admits. 

“I think I do,” Nebula smirks. 

All of them watch the exchange transpire - not listen, as the voices get lower and possibly more intimate, but definitely watch - and none of them but Ian and Carina even attempt to pretend they weren’t watching when Raina returns.  “Where’s your sister, robot girl?” she asks. 

Nebula shrugs.  “Somewhere in here with Quill and Drax, I think,” she says.  “What game are you playing with asshat over there?” 

Raina giggles.  “I don’t know yet, I’m not done,” she croons.  She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone, apparently responding to a message, and it’s at that moment that the song switches.  To “Anaconda.” 

Instinctually, Darcy starts laughing, because she made this song even better for herself, but then she looks up and sees Ward chatting up some girl, this wholesome-looking petite blonde, and she can’t help but glare, somewhat in defense of the girl, who probably doesn’t know what she’s getting into.

Probably to his advantage, Ward happens to meet her gaze.  Her terrifying, steely gaze.  It’s maybe two seconds before he mutters something to the girl and ducks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about which Power Rangers Team America is watching, it's Jungle Fury, which is possibly the most unintentionally hilarious Power Rangers series.


	24. you said remember that life is not meant to be wasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of New Year's Eve. There's unexpected bonding moments, more adorable established relationships and karaoke.

Maya is pretty sure that staying home and finally catching up on _Orange is the New Black_ is actually the lamest way to spend New Year’s Eve, but it’s better than the alternative (she’s received more than one frantic text message from Pepper asking her if she really won’t consider keeping her company, because Tony is apparently terrorizing the bar and babysitting gets tiring, but that’s a dance Maya has done before and she politely declines) and anyway, it’s not like it’s not unproductive.

She’s three episodes down when her doorbell rings, and it’s precisely because she’s mystified about who it might be that she actually bothers to make sure she doesn’t look horribly disheveled before she goes to answer the door.

“ _Maria_?”

That’s not really what she expected, even though she notices her heart pick up its pace a little seeing the other woman standing there.

“I fucked up, Maya,” Maria moans.

“I thought you were supposed to be out with Melinda tonight,” Maya muses.

“That’s what I fucked up,” Maria says, like it’s obvious, and she finally looks up long enough for Maya to notice her glossy eyes complete with telltale blown pupils.

“Okay, you’re coming in,” Maya says, taking Maria by the arm and dragging her toward the living room before protests can be made.  “I’m getting you water and food and you’re telling me what’s going on.”

Maria doesn’t immediately respond except for to fold her arms as she sits there, looking completely aggravated with everything, but that expression softens when Maya brings her not only a glass of water but a bag of (still disproportionately fancy, but that’s just Maya’s way, fancy without calling attention to it in the slightest) potato chips.

“Well, the date was a failure,” Maria says.  “I mean, it was going along wonderfully, we were talking and getting along really well.  Nobody knows how funny that woman is.”

“Well, she doesn’t usually say more than a sentence or two to us civilians,” Maya points out, not unkindly, as she sits on the couch herself.  

“As the night went on, we got closer and closer together, and I’m almost positive she was about to kiss me, but I just froze up,” Maria continues, sounding uncharacteristically small.

Maya’s heart leaps into her throat, but she isn’t going to pay attention to that.  It’s not the point right now.  Or probably ever.  “Too public?” she ventures.  “Too rushed?”

“Maya, I’ve been flirting with her for the better part of a year,” Maria says, rolling her eyes.  “And at least some of the time I think she’s flirting with me.”  She eats a whole handful of chips in one go, managing to look sad even then.  “I freaked out.  That’s all there is to it.”

Maya winces sympathetically.  “I’m sure it’s okay,” she says.

“Yeah, but what if it’s not?  I made an ass out of myself,” Maria groans.  “And she’s gonna be at that party too, and I…”

“You’re drunk,” Maya points out.  “Or drunk enough that I’m not letting you drive.”

“Are you just going to keep me here?” Maria teases.

“Well, considering that I’m sure as hell not chauffeuring you to some mess of a party, I guess that’s what it comes to,” Maya retorts.  It’s a bit more forceful than is probably appropriate, but Maria is pretty stubborn.

“Fine,” Maria says like it’s some great burden (although she realizes she’d pretty much expected this to happen when she decided to show up unannounced).  She eyes the TV screen.  “How far in are you?”

“Not very,” Maya shrugs.  “But since I’m forcing you to stay, you get to decide what we watch.”

Which is how, despite Maya’s gentle suggestions that they watch something calming and pleasant, half an hour later they’re tucked under a giant blanket streaming _Heathers_.  And sure, Maria idly lets her head rest against Maya’s shoulder, but she does it so nonchalantly, so without acknowledgement, that Maya knows better than to say anything.

And sure, Maya scoots closer, lets an arm drape over Maria’s lap, but she does it so unthinkingly, so without preamble, that Maria knows better than to say anything.

 

* * *

 

After more episodes than is probably healthy of the show, Sharon disentangles herself (her head is resting against Steve’s chest, her legs are draped across Natasha’s lap) and murmurs, “I’ll be right back, you guys” before grabbing her purse and disappearing down the hall.

“What was that all about?” Bucky asks.  “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.  She has a surprise for us.”  Natasha’s smirking.  “Well, for you guys.  I know what it is, I bought it for her.”

Steve’s eyes go wide.  “The mysterious Christmas present?”

“Maybe.”  Natasha bops his nose playfully with a finger.

“I thought you guys were gonna keep that a secret _forever_.  That one wouldn’t stop talking about it, trying to figure out what it was,” says Sam, nodding at Steve.

“I voted for dildo,” Bucky offers with an entirely straight face.

“Not this time.”  Natasha smirks.  “Anyway, we have plenty of alternatives available.  It seemed a bit superfluous.”

Steve makes a very distinct choking noise.

“You’re weirdly innocent and it’s adorable.”

“No,” he whispers, sounding reverent.  “It’s just…”  He nods toward where Sharon is standing, clad in a lacy red - lingerie _something_ (he can never keep track of the terms, despite Natasha’s attempts to teach him).

Sam whistles.  “Damn, girl.”

She smiles with just the slightest self-consciousness, shaking her hair out.  “You like?”

“Yeah.”  Bucky’s eyes are wide.  “You look...amazing.”

“You’re welcome, boys.”  Natasha’s ogling too, of course.  She’s only human.

“Come here,” Steve says, his voice still pitched low.

Sharon nods as she does, seeming to gain confidence with each step, and off his inviting look, she plants herself in Steve’s lap, then presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw.  “Happy holidays,” she whispers.

“ _Very_ happy,” murmurs Natasha, leaning over to kiss Sharon’s lips.  “You come play too,” she says to Sam and Bucky, who do as she suggests immediately.  “I think our girl needs some attention.”

 

* * *

 

When Melinda enters the bar, against her better judgment, she makes a beeline for the alcohol.  That might make this experience slightly more tolerable.  She’s just settling into her barstool with her whiskey when she hears someone say, “Hello there.”

She turns to see Peter Quill, that kid who owns the skate shop across the street from the mall.  They’ve never spoken, but she knows of him.  She knows enough, anyway.  “Hi,” she says after taking a moment to size him up (he’s no threat at all).

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Drinking.”  She’s heard it before.  It was old years ago.  She scans behind him for Sif, or anyone she knows, really, that she can use as a convenient excuse.

“Ooh, whiskey.  A nice choice.”  He seems not to have noticed her fairly blatant gaze behind him and continues talking.  “So I think I’ve seen you before, you work at Big 5, right?  That’s a nice store.  I bet you know a lot about that stuff, huh?  You know your way around...balls.”

While she’s considering tossing her whiskey in his face (she could, for that joke, but it’s Four Roses and it would be a waste of a good drink) she spots Sif across the room.  “My friend is here,” she says. “I’m going to meet her.”  She completely ignores his attempts to bid her farewell.

Sif’s smiling when she comes up to her.  “You made it!” she says.

“I did.  I was having a drink and got accosted by someone old enough to know better.”

Sif laughs.  “I saw the end of that.  Quill is very...forward.  Anyway, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, I live about five minutes away and I also have drinks.”

“All right.  Sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

The credits are just starting to roll when Skye says, “Jemma and I would have a kickass Jaeger, right?”

“You would.” Trip nods.

“Actually I think Jemma and I would be good drift partners,” says Fitz.

“Okay, yeah, you’d be good, but not as good as me.”  Skye’s grinning.  She knows that’ll piss off Fitz.  She’s had a bit to drink and feels silly and mischievous.

Fitz hasn’t had as much to drink, but it affects him faster.  “That’s a lie!” he says.  “I’ll fight you for it!”

“How does it feel to have my boyfriend and your girlfriend fighting over you, Jemma?”  Trip’s grinning.

“It’s a little bit flattering and a little bit alarming,” Jemma admits.

“Okay, let’s do it!  Jemma and I’ll be the Jaeger and you be the kaiju, and if I win she’s mine and if you win she’s yours.  Deal?”

“Why do _I_ have to be the kaiju?” whines Fitz.  “That’s not fair!  Trip, help me!”

Trip rolls his eyes fondly and picks Fitz up so he’s sitting on his shoulders.  Then he gives his very best kaiju roar.

“C’mon, Jemma!”  Skye pulls her to her feet and grabs her left hand.

Jemma squeaks as she’s pulled up, but the amount of alcohol in her bloodstream means she’s at least not disagreeing with the activity.  “All right, co-pilot,” she says, nodding very seriously.

“This is it!  Category four!  We gotta use everything!”  Skye’s shouting because that seems reasonable in the middle of a battle.  “LOCCENT, Seismic Crystal is gonna kick its ass!”

“Seismic Crystal, really?” scoffs Fitz.  “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Shut up!  ELBOW ROCKET!”  Skye pretends to fire her elbow into Trip’s right arm and Trip cries out dramatically.  “A direct hit!  Quick, Jemma, use the machete!”

Jemma yelps, because she can go along with games like this but she’s not the best at improvising, and in a panic she picks up the nearest item she can find, which semi-conveniently turns out to be an unopened roll of wrapping paper.  She takes a second to regroup, then swings the roll at the boys, only slightly clumsily.

It still manages to whack Fitz on the shoulder.  “Ouch!” he yelps.

“Good work!  Let’s finish it off with the boob guns!”  Skye grabs a wad of unused napkins they brought out and starts balling them up and throwing them at the “kaiju,” and Jemma joins her.  Their aim is terrible and they’re nowhere near coordinated, but finally Trip, laughing, lets Fitz off his shoulders and groans like a dying animal as he flops to the ground.  “Augh, you got me!”

“You’re a bloody terrible kaiju,” giggles Fitz from where he’s sitting on the floor.

“We did it!”  Skye turns to high five Jemma.  “Best drift partners _ever_!”

Jemma catches Skye’s high five, then turns it into holding hands, then turns it into pulling her closer to kiss.  “Best ever,” she agrees.

Meanwhile, Trip’s still flopped on the ground fake-moaning and doesn’t stop until Fitz slides over to kiss him.  “My hero,” he murmurs.

 

* * *

 

“My entire body is tingling!  I wish to dance!”

Nebula groans.  “How much have you had to drink?”

“I did not count!” Drax grins widely.  “They were all so delicious and very cheap!  Come, skunk girl, dance with me!”  He beckons to Rogue, who’s nursing her own drink.

“Charming as that nickname is, I’m gonna pass.”

“Then you, pink-hair.  I know you are Nebula’s beloved, but I’m sure she will not mind.”

“I’m too drunk to dance,” Carina says immediately.

“Leather jacket?  Red haired girl?”  Both Laura and MJ shake their heads, and Drax shrugs.  “Very well, have a pleasant evening.  I shall go dance alone!  Billy Idol has a song about that that Quill played for me, I quite like it.”  And he’s off to do just that.

“Besides, it’s more fun watching Quill strike out with every girl in this bar,” says Nebula to the others with a smirk.  At the moment he’s chatting up Bobbi, who looks about two seconds away from kicking his ass.

“Y’know, all the girls I knew on drill team were really...talented.  Are you talented too?”  Peter’s tone makes the innuendo painfully obvious.

Bobbi grits her teeth.  “Ask me that question again when I actually have my batons on me and you’ll find out just how talented,” she says.

“Ooh, good idea!  Do you like, do you want my number or should I get yours…”

Without saying anything, she kicks him right in the knee and saunters off.

He groans and stays down for a moment, murmuring, “Okay, okay, no number then.”  Finally, he staggers to his feet and limps off in search of another girl.

“Good for her,” says MJ.  “I’ve kind of wanted to do that to him for a while.”

Peter works his way to the other end of the bar, hoping maybe that end will be more receptive.  Immediately he spots a gorgeous blonde who’s sort of standing near Tony Stark but not really, so maybe she’s just a groupie.  He sidles over to her and says in his best I’m-a-friendly-guy voice, “Hey there! What’s your name?”

She looks surprised. “Christine. And you are…?”

“Peter Quill.  I run the skate shop across from the mall.  I’m pretty good with a board.  Pretty good at some other things too.”  He grins.  “How about you?”

“Uh huh.  Well, Peter Quill, it’s very nice to meet you, but I should say at this point in the conversation that I’ve already got a manchild fuckbuddy just so there’s no confusion in the future.”  Christine’s smiling like she’s on her last nerve.

Tony, who’s seated nearby explaining some software to Happy, glances over.  “Manchild fuckbuddy here,” he calls, interrupting himself.

Peter can’t keep the disappointed look off his face.  “Oh, okay, well, uh...nice to meet you, Christine.  And you, manchild fuckbuddy.  Your parents must’ve been cruel.”

“I cry myself to sleep every night,” says Tony blithely.

“Have a nice evening, you two.”  Peter turns away, refusing to give up.  He spots Raina nursing a drink at the bar, apparently alone, and ambles over.  “Hey!  Raina!  Long time no see.”

“Hi,” Raina says, sounding disinterested.

“Come on, pal,” Gamora mutters, coming up behind him and tugging him away.  “There are some things we shouldn’t mess with.”

Now that the show of Quill humiliating himself is over, Nebula nudges Carina and murmurs, “You wanna split?”

“Yes, please,” Carina says, nodding.

 

* * *

 

Sif drives Melinda’s car to her apartment, since Sif had carpooled with Hogun and she and Melinda both agreed that Melinda’s glass of whiskey meant she shouldn’t be driving.  As she pulls into one of the visitor parking spots, she says apologetically, “I wasn’t expecting guests and I haven’t really cleaned the place, so apologies for that.”

“It’s fine,” says Melinda kindly.  “I understand.”

Sif’s apartment is small but she likes it that way - it’s all the room she needs, and she’s never felt embarrassed bringing women to it in the three years she’s been renting it.  Now, though, she’s definitely wishing she had a nicer place - the paint is long overdue for another coat, and there are only four rooms counting the bathroom, and she’s just starting to worry about what Melinda is thinking when Melinda, after glancing around for a minute, says, “Reminds me of my place, actually.”

“Oh,” Sif says, trying not to look too relieved.  “I was just about to say, I know it’s small.”

“It’s cozy.” That’s not a word Sif would have ever imagined Melinda saying.  “It’s secure and safe. I like small apartments better than large ones.”  Melinda smiles at her - it’s a real smile, both corners of her mouth turn up, and Sif can’t breathe for a second.

But she manages to get ahold of herself and asks, “Can I get you something to drink?  Or some food?  I don’t have much but there’s some chips in the pantry and…”

“Just water for now.  Perhaps more booze later.”  Melinda sits on Sif’s couch, which is old and kind of ugly (it’s an odd sort of maroon color) but comfortable.

Sif goes to get her a glass, and some for herself, because she suspects that drinking around her crush at this stage of the night will end very badly.  “Oh,” she calls as she comes back into the living room, “I have, um, something for you.  I meant to give it to you at work but I kept...forgetting to bring it.”  Or losing her nerve, but she won’t say that.

“Thank you.”  Melinda looks surprised.  “I have something for you as well, in my car.  Shall I go get it? I’ll need my keys back.”

“Of course!”  Sif tosses them to her and then has a horrible sinking feeling that that might be Melinda’s way of trying to escape hanging out with her.  But no, that wouldn’t make any sense, would it?  Melinda’s too blunt.  If she doesn’t like you, you know it.  So instead she pulls out the small gift-wrapped box from where she’s stashed it on top of her dresser (trying to get up the nerve to take it to work with her) and waits for a moment until Melinda returns with her own, much larger box.

“Perhaps I have been too extravagant,” jokes Melinda when she sees the size of the box in Sif’s hand.

“Oh, no, you haven’t!  The box is small because…  Er, just...just open it.”  Sif hastily hands it to her.

Melinda does, her face betraying nothing, but when she pulls out the bracelet inside her expression softens.  “Oh my.”

“Look, there’s more!”  Sif slides over from the other side of the couch to show her how one side of the silver bracelet slips out when manipulated in just the right way to reveal a knife edge.  “I thought...it was something you’d like,” she says, lamely.

“I do, very much.  Thank you.”  Melinda slips the box into her purse. “I won’t wear it tonight, I wouldn’t want to scratch it.  And perhaps not to work, but I will find reasons to wear it.”  She smiles again and Sif has to work to keep her composure. “Now open yours.”

Sif pulls the box up from the floor, and it’s large enough to rest across her lap and just touch one of Melinda’s legs.  “I’m not sure that you were too extravagant, it might be that I was,” she says as she pulls off the wrapping.

“I wouldn’t assume that.”

And Sif sees what she means when she pulls out Melinda’s gift - a gorgeous leather belt meant for a renaissance fair costume that has what must be a dozen loops and straps of varying lengths and sizes.  Melinda obviously knows quality where she sees it, and Sif is awed.  “How did you know I needed one?” she breathes.  Because, well, her old belt is old and has one loop for her sword and that’s all.  It was an emergency purchase from Goodwill and she just hasn’t had the funds for a better one.

“I asked for Heimdall’s help, I admit,” says Melinda with a grin.  “I knew you and your friends like to do that sort of thing, but I knew nothing about it.  He suggested a few vendors and I thought this was your style.”

“It’s perfect.”  Sif keeps running her hands over the butter-soft leather and imagining what her costume will look like with this belt.  She’s proud of that costume, but it’s always needed that last touch.  “Thank you so much, Melinda, this is…”

“I know.”  Melinda puts her hand on Sif’s shoulder.  “You’re welcome.”

Then Sif happens to glance at the clock.  “Oh! It’s about half an hour to midnight.  Do you want to...see what shitty New Year’s countdown programming is on?”

“I can think of no better way to spend the evening,” says Melinda, absolutely deadpan, but when Sif looks at her she’s smirking.

As it turns out, alcohol makes Melinda...not affectionate, but Sif would say at least more inclined to sit close to the person she’s with.  The talking heads on TV drone on and make bad jokes and Melinda leans against Sif, not fully resting her head on her shoulder but keeping it right next to it, and Sif tries to bask in the moment but mostly she just has to remember to breathe and act normal.

 

* * *

 

“That was a treat,” Victoria murmurs, stroking Isabelle’s hair.  They’re tangled up in the bedsheets, happily sated, both of them nearly naked; a bottle of champagne is on the endtable.

“Good.” Isabelle presses a kiss to Victoria’s shoulder.  “You’re cute when you’re all fucked out.”

“You know you’re the only person on the planet who’s allowed to say that to me,” Victoria points out, attempting some semblance of authority in her tone and failing.

Isabelle chuckles.  “What an honor.”  After a moment of quiet she adds,  “Did you want to go out and do anything else tonight with other people?  I mean, I’m content here, but I could be...persuaded if you wanted to socialize.”

“Honestly?  I can’t imagine anything I want more than staying here with you.”

Nuzzling her, Isabelle hums happily.  “Agreed.  More champagne?”

“More champagne,” Victoria agrees.   “But first, more kissing.”   And she positions herself to do just that.

 

* * *

 

It’s midway through Drax’s very enthusiastic but accidentally violent rendition of “Tubthumping” that Gamora mutters, “I don’t think this bar even has anyone working.  I think they just left us to our own devices.”

“Anarchy,” Rogue agrees, overhearing.  She doesn’t sound entirely displeased by the prospect.

Drax practically pitches headfirst onto the stage at the song’s conclusion, then rights himself as he exclaims, “See, I _do_ get up again!” and elicits groans from the crowd, either because they know him so well that his literalism is no longer entirely endearing or they don’t know him well enough to find it that.  There’s scattered applause as he takes his seat, though, because nobody is so drunk that they completely forget their party manners.

It’s Quill on stage next, and his first move is to squint into the crowd and shout, “Duet partner!”

“Fuck off and stop trying,” Gamora shouts back, tone bright.

He pouts as the opening notes play, but all is forgotten by the first “ _Listen, baby_ ” and it’s all either up or downhill (depending on your perspective) from there.

“Are you gonna give it a go?” Lance asks, sitting at Lorelei’s table unbidden but welcome as he brings her a new whiskey sour.

“It’s not really my thing,” Lorelei says.  “I’d much rather perform one-on-one.”

“Not, ah, one for groups?” he stammers.

“Not one for voyeurs,” she corrects.

He makes a face, wishing he hadn’t already put his name on the list, but it’d be a wussier move to back out once everyone knows.  “D’you mind being one?” he asks.  That’s a save, in his drunken mind anyway.

“Sometimes,” she says airily.  “Sometimes it’s fun.”

Meanwhile, Quill is trying to incite the entire bar to sing along, to little avail, and it becomes one of those hilarious times to be a voyeur, so the conversation fades out.  By the time Lance thinks of something new and charming to say, Lorelei has disappeared, taking her drink with her.

Of fucking course she has.

A few performances - Tony’s “Blank Space” (laughably bad) and Darcy’s “I Will Always Love You” (prefaced with the note that she couldn’t actually sing the entire “Elephant Love Medley” from _Moulin Rouge_ not because she’s not two people but because they didn’t have it) and Mack’s “Don’t Stop Believing” (decent, plus he actually manages to get audience participation) and Fandral’s “I’ll Make Love to You” (aimed at Linnea, who has a hard time keeping a straight face) - and a few more drinks down, a very bleary-eyed Lance takes the stage.

“Yeah, you know who this is for,” he slurs into the microphone (Lorelei turns to Raina with an amused expression) as the opening chords play.

By the time he’s to the chorus, wailing about “ _we could have had it aaaaaaaaaalllllll_ ” and barely managing to stay upright, Bobbi is laughing so hard she has to put her head down to cover it up.

“Well, that was something else,” MJ says as she takes the stage, launching into a perfectly decent and possibly rehearsed rendition of Sara Bareilles’ “Love Song.”

 

* * *

 

“I made cookies,” Jane calls as Thor enters the apartment.

“Goodness, Jane, seeing your lovely face was enough!  And cookies as well?  You will spoil me,” teases Thor, following her voice into the kitchen and then leaning down for a kiss.

“It’s only fair,” she murmurs against his lips.  “Was the rest of the day acceptable?”

Thor shrugs.  “It was fine, I suppose.  Kurt and I rearranged the store and put out the new inventory as requested.  But I am glad to be done now.  I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Jane says.  “Now, I’m positive these aren’t the best cookies ever, but hopefully they’re not too horrible?”

“I’m sure they are more than satisfactory!”  Thor takes the plate and heads for the living room.  “Shall we watch something while we wait for the countdown?”

 

* * *

 

“These are so annoying,” grumbles Fitz, trying in vain to adjust the kitschy “2015” glasses that Skye made them all put on so they don’t irritate his nose.

“They’ll be off in five minutes,” Jemma says.  

“Good.  I’m tired.”  Fitz flops against Trip.

Skye blows into a noisemaker.  “Wuss.”

“Child.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Play nice, you two,” says Trip in a warning tone, stroking Fitz’s hair.

At some point in the evening, someone had put a candle on the table and lit it, and miraculously it’s managed to stay lit despite all their shenanigans earlier.   Skye blows it out like a birthday candle.  “Happy new year!” she says, blowing another noisemaker.

“Also not for another five minutes,” Jemma says, chuckling fondly.

“Since we’ve got that, anyone got any resolutions?” asks Trip.

Fitz grunts.  “I resolve to go to sleep immediately after this.”

Jemma perks right up, announcing, “I resolve -”

“-to kiss my girlfriend right now!” says Skye, grabbing Jemma’s face and kissing her.

Trip laughs.  “Well, that’s not a bad one, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

“Only a minute till midnight,” Steve announces, drawing patterns on Sharon’s arm.

“Ooh, we should get stuff for a toast!”  Sam gently disentangles himself from the rest of them, who are sort of melted together in a pile as usual, and heads for the kitchen to grab glasses and champagne.

“Happy almost-2015, everyone.”  Natasha doesn’t move from where she’s snuggled up against Bucky and Sharon simultaneously.

“Mm, happy almost-2015,” Sharon echoes, grinning.  She sits up when Sam reenters with the champagne, eagerly reaching for the bottle and a glass as soon as it’s set down.

Bucky lazily takes the glass Steve’s offered him.  He was almost asleep before Steve made the announcement, and he still seems dozy, smiling in a dopey sort of way.

“Here’s to a new year,” says Sam, clinking everyone’s glass.

When the numbers flick over to midnight, there’s a round of affectionate kisses and then a round of very affectionate kisses, and then everyone begins to take advantage of their mostly-undressed state and the glasses of champagne are mostly forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely followed by [no shame no, can we just be favor friends?.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/7190333)


	25. and I tell myself to let the story end, my heart will rest in someone else's hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha host a life lesson talk for the youngest members of the group. Featuring: young Clint Barton's poor decisions.

Skye knocks on the door of apartment 303 and then says to Jemma, “See, we’re only like a minute late, we’re fine.”

“We would have been on time if you hadn’t insisted on pushing it to the very last minute,” Jemma mutters, though she’s smiling.

“You seemed to be okay with it when I was doing this,” teases Skye, leaning over to nibble Jemma’s earlobe.

“ _Skye_ ,” Jemma hisses, frantically pawing at Skye in a halfhearted attempt to get her to stop.  “Not where people might be!”

As if to prove this theory, Sharon strolls up, carrying a grocery bag that’s full of both soda and beer (something for everyone).  “Hey, guys,” she says cheerfully.

“Hey.  What are _you_ doing here?” asks Skye, and she doesn’t mean to be rude, she’s honestly curious.  “I thought you were Natasha’s girlfriend or something.”

“And something, more like,” Sharon says dismissively.  “That’s why she invited me.”

Skye raises an eyebrow.  “Okay…”

Natasha opens the door.  “Oh good, you brought the drinks,” she says to Sharon.  “Come in.”

They do, and Skye glances around the sparsely decorated living room, featuring one couch, one short table that is maybe passable as a coffee table, one television, and several small paintings of birds.  It either looks like the living space of someone who enjoys the minimalist look or someone who doesn’t give enough of a fuck to furnish their place.  The latter of which Skye can appreciate, really.  “So this is Clint’s place?” she asks.

“Yeah.  We’re here for a life lesson, kids.”  Natasha nods to the floor in front of the couch.  “Sorry, he’s too lazy to buy more chairs so you’ll have to sit on the floor.”

Jemma glances around.  The couch is taken up by Darcy and Ian on one end and Fitz and Trip on the other, and she can’t help but think that the “kids” part of Natasha’s statement is intentionally applied.  So she sits daintily on the floor, legs folded to one side of her, and nods for Skye to join.  “Where is Clint, exactly?” she asks.

“He’s out getting the pizza.  We did promise you pizza,” Natasha says with a wry smile.  “He’ll be back in a few minutes, probably.  In the meantime, Sharon, come help me get cups.”

Trying not to giggle, Sharon sets her bag down by the door and puts her coat on top of it before following Natasha into the kitchen.

Skye nudges Jemma and murmurs “Well, _someone_ wanted to say hello to their ‘and something’ in private” with a grin.

“Shush,” Jemma whispers, looking mortified for a second before she turns to the others and asks Fitz, “Did you just come straight after your class project meeting?”

Fitz nods.  “The others have some good ideas about what direction to go in.  Especially Tadashi, he’s brilliant!”

“Ooh, watch it Trip, I think Fitz has a little crush,” Skye says playfully.

“I’m not worried,” replies Trip, squeezing Fitz’s hand.  Fitz smiles fondly at him and then turns to glare at Skye, who responds with an innocent expression.

“Ugh, you’re so cute it hurts,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes.

Just then a key turns in the lock and Clint enters, carrying four pizzas.  “Soup’s on!” he calls.  “Nat, Sharon, stop making out and come help me!”

Natasha saunters back into the living room, hair slightly mussed.  She’s smirking and if someone looked closely, they might see that her lips are shinier than they had been five minutes before.  “We have cups,” she says, brandishing a stack of Solo cups.

“Plates?” Clint asks, setting the pizzas on the coffee table.

“Plates!” Sharon exclaims, reentering with more paper plates than this group would use in a week.  “And napkins!”

There’s a knock at the door.  “Ah, that’ll be the delinquents,” says Clint.

Natasha smacks him.  “Be nice.”  She opens the door for Nebula and Carina, who make an immediate beeline for the pizza (well, Nebula does, Carina’s holding her hand and gets dragged along).  “Find a spot on the floor,” Natasha says.

“Whatever,” replies Nebula, settling herself away from the others.

Carina, meanwhile, is busy smiling apologetically at their hosts.  “We got stuck in traffic,” she says.

“No worries, we hadn’t started yet.”  Natasha lets everyone get food and drinks and settle in before she announces, “We asked you all here to teach you an important life lesson.”

“Aw, damn!” says Skye.  “I was hoping you were gonna talk about a new mission to make Ward’s life miserable, or something.”

Clint laughs.  “Give it a week, she’ll think of something.  She’s too busy doing that to me right now.”

“Big baby,” replies Natasha.  “Anyway, we’re here to tell you the story of a lovelorn boy named Clint and some bad choices he made in college.”

“Awww,” Darcy croons.  “Is there an embarrassing tattoo on a lovelorn boy named Clint’s ass?”

“It’s on my chest, I’ll have you know,” says Clint indignantly.

“Oh my god, I was kidding,” Darcy giggles.

Nebula’s wearing a bigger grin than anyone’s ever seen on her face.  It’s a little bit scary.  “Are you that guy that Drax talks about sometimes who came in asking to put a tree around the mockingbird that was on his right boob?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Awesome.  That makes this whole stupid day worth it.”

Very gently, Carina nudges Nebula in the shoulder.  “She doesn’t mean that,” she amends.  “It’s just been - she’s - tired.  She’s tired.  That’s all.”  The need to not offend everyone else is painfully apparent in her tone.

Sharon takes pity and offers the other girl a smile of reassurance before saying to Natasha, “Please, continue.”

“So, when Clint was in college he dated a lovely girl named Bobbi-”

“We’re not changing _anyone’s_ name in this story to protect innocent parties?” interrupts Clint.

“Nope.”  Natasha’s smile is almost cruel.  “Clint and Bobbi had a good time together.  She put up with his antics for some reason, and he adored her.  They dated for about three years and were still together as graduation approached.  So, one night about six weeks before graduation, Clint was over at his best friend’s apartment getting trashed to forget about finals when they decided to get pizza.”

“Oh sure, this _best friend_ doesn’t get a name!”

Natasha ignores his good-natured whining and continues, “When Clint drank, he got sentimental, and he spent twenty minutes telling his best friend all about how much he loved Bobbi and how he was sure it was their destiny to be together forever and how he should maybe propose to her after graduation.”

“And clearly _that_ worked out well,” says Trip dryly.

“Finally his longsuffering best friend got tired of this and took him down the street to get some pizza in hopes it would shut him up.  In the lobby of the pizza parlor, there were vending machines with stupid toys in them that cost a quarter.  Clint saw one that had jewelry and begged his best friend for a quarter until she gave him one.  He got a ring, and proceeded to announce to the entire lobby that it was a sign and that he should ask Bobbi to marry him-”

“They _did_ applaud,” interjects Clint.

“Yeah, and I think most of them were high off their asses at that point.  Anyway, so his best friend tried to tell him what a bad idea it was to take a _pizza ring_ as a sign of who to spend his life with, and he refused to listen.  He just kept yammering on about it and by the time they’d walked back home he’d decided to use the _pizza ring_ as the proposal ring.  He made himself a voice memo in his phone and then proceeded to eat seven slices and pass out for thirteen hours and sleep through all his classes the next day.”

Clint shrugs.  “I still passed ‘em.”

Jemma stares with wide eyes and fumbles for Skye’s free hand to squeeze.  “How could you possibly have - with _finals_ coming up and everything!  You must have asked your teachers for the notes you missed, right?”

“Honey, not everyone cares about school the way you do,” murmurs Skye with a grin that’s half affectionate and half amused at her girlfriend’s fears over another person’s long-ended academic career.

“Can’t remember how,” says Clint with a shit-eating grin.  “Just know I passed.”

“So, despite waking up with a killer headache, he was determined to go through with this dumbass plan of his.  Instead of listening to his best friend, he made a reservation at the fanciest restaurant in town for the night of graduation and invited Bobbi to dinner.  You can imagine how well that went,” finishes Natasha.

“Did she throw her water glass in your face?” Darcy asks eagerly, ignoring the way Ian tugs on her sweater to attempt to quiet her.

“Did she storm off in a huff?”  Skye’s eyes are gleaming, like this is the juiciest story she’s heard in a long time.

“She did neither of those things, because this isn’t a stupid nineties romantic comedy,” says Natasha, smirking.  “I think she found it kind of funny, actually.  I know she laughed a bit.  He got lucky, she was very sweet about it, but basically she told him that he was a nice guy but not the right guy for her to marry.” 

“And the right guy was that British douche from Applebee’s?” asks Trip, sounding incredulous.

Clint sighs.  “Look, I do my best not to judge her for her choices.  There had to be something she saw in him.”

“I bet I know what it is,” says Skye, sporting her own shit-eating grin.

“Bobbi doesn’t need to justify her reasons for doing what she did,” Jemma huffs.  “And it was only six months, anyway.”

Fitz blinks at her.  “...How do you know that?”

Jemma waves a hand.  “We’ve talked about it,” she says, like there’s nothing surprising about this (well, that they’ve talked isn’t surprising, but that Jemma’s recounting it so casually and so without starry eyes is).  “We’ve discussed lots of things.  She comes for ice cream sometimes.”

“How often is sometimes?”  Skye tries to keep her tone light, but she grabs Jemma’s hand as she speaks.

“Oh, love, are you jealous?” Jemma asks mischievously.

“Maybe.”  Skye pouts just slightly.

“Well, if you’re jealous of everyone who comes for ice cream, you’re jealous of everyone,” Jemma points out.  “But I’ll have you know, one of those things we discuss is how wonderful you are.”

Skye preens a little.  “Well, okay,” she says, leaning over to rest her head on Jemma’s shoulder. “Just checking.”

“Anyway,” says Natasha, looking amused, “the point of this story, children, is to always be sure you’re on the same page as your romantic partner before taking idiotically large risks like proposing to them with a pizza ring.  We have a visual aid for this.”  She looks pointedly at Clint.

Sighing, he digs in his pocket and pulls out something small, dropping it into Natasha’s outstretched hand.  She holds it up between her thumb and pointer finger, then drops it into the nearest person’s hand (Trip’s).  It’s made of cheap metal, covered in dents, and the magenta stone is heart-shaped and obviously plastic.  “Take a good look at this ring, kids.  This is the pizza ring.  The very ring that Clint bought for a quarter that night, and thought was a sign to propose to his girlfriend.  I show you this ring so that you can see what a bad decision following through on rash, drunk ideas can be.”

“At least it’s not _actually_ plastic?” says Trip as he obediently examines it for a moment before handing it to Fitz.

“The design of this is really quite terrible.  I mean, I know it’s a trinket meant for children, but we should have some standards,” mutters Fitz.  “If this were a real ring, the stone would go flying out within six months.  Gotta get it set in deeper.”

“Setting it in deeper would mean having to use more glue to hold it in, probably,” Ian muses as he takes a turn looking the thing over.  “Which they wouldn’t have been able to do, given that it’s being sold for a quarter.”

“How wasted do you have to be to think this was a good idea?” Darcy asks.  “This isn’t even a color that would suit her.”

Clint has the sense to finally look embarrassed.  “I’m a romantic.”

“That’s sweet,” Carina says.

“In short, always talk to your partner about big life decisions and never take stupid twenty-five cent toys as signs.”

“Also probably don’t get tattoos inspired by somebody unless you’re good at improvising a coverup,” adds Clint.

“Can we see it?” Darcy asks.

“Nope,” he replies blithely.

Nebula chimes in, “I think Drax has most of the custom tattoo sketches he’s done.  Could go ask him if he’s got that one.”

“I’m sure he does.” Clint has switched over to calculated indifference.

“Did you deliberately invite only people under the age of twenty-three?” asks Skye.

Natasha shrugs.  “You’re the ones who needed to hear it.”

“Why, exactly?” Carina asks softly.

“Because some of you are getting to be the age where you start thinking about your futures and how they might include the person you’re with now, and we don’t want you to make the same dumb decisions he did and wind up heartbroken,” says Natasha, sounding more serious than she has for the last twenty minutes.

“And all of the grown-ups already have their shit together,” Darcy surmises, a bit sarcastically (because honestly, that’s at least half-untrue). 

“No!  I mean, god, you’ve seen Tony,” replies Clint.  “But we want to help you guys not be twenty-eight and still figuring out your life and who you want to be in it.  Also, divorce can be really fucking expensive if it turns out you actually can’t stand your spouse and you don’t want your apartment to look like mine, or worse, right?”

Fitz’s eyes are huge and he nods like a kindergartner.  Most of the others look as if they’re at least partially receptive to that final point too.

“Hey, but I suppose it’s not a total waste?” Ian offers, grinning.  “You were able to turn your catastrophe into an after-school special for us.”

“Nice one,” Darcy whispers, kissing him on the cheek.

Clint shrugs.  “There’s a distinct possibility that my entire life is an object lesson for others.”

“What must that be like?” Sharon asks Natasha innocently.

“Pretty funny, mostly.”  Natasha grins.

“For him or for you?”

“Oh, for me. I get to sit back and watch the object lesson unfold.”

Skye, meanwhile, has gently disentangled herself from Jemma to get up and go into the kitchen in search of a glass of water.  “Hey Clint,” she calls, “how come your kitchen has paintings of farm animals everywhere?”


	26. she rearranges all the light in the room so you’re always in the shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance Hunter has a chance encounter while he tends bar, oblivious to the fact that he is but a pawn in the game.

Lance Hunter likes a lot of things about America.  Having to hear about shitty American “football” because ESPN is always on in the bar isn’t one of them.

“Stupid bastards don’t even have to do more than throw the ball and run,” he mumbles as he’s mixing drinks for a particularly noisy group who are watching the game that’s currently on with rapt attention, yelling uproariously every time their team scores or gets close to scoring or even _thinks_ about scoring.  He briefly considers spitting in their drinks, then thinks better of it.  The alcohol hasn’t done anything to deserve that.

He can just see the table at the back wall of the restaurant where Bobbi, Skye and Jemma are sitting, and he glares in their direction.  Partially because, while he’d like nothing more than to not acknowledge them - or at least Bobbi - at all, he’d still rather be serving them than dealing with these animals in the bar.  Besides which, they’re far enough away from the howler monkeys that they might actually be _enjoying_ themselves.  He envies them that. 

“What’s a girl have to do to get the bartender’s attention around here?”

The voice sounds entirely unlike the clientele that usually frequents this shithole, so Lance is puzzled enough that he snaps out of his reverie.  He turns to see the slightly terrifying redheaded woman that he’d been flirting with on New Year’s Eve before she’d disappeared on him.  He takes a moment to thank whatever circumstances led to this stroke of luck.  “Hey there, darlin’.  Sorry about that.  What can I get for you?”

She glances over the drink menu even though she’s already completely aware.  “Whiskey smash,” she says flatly.

“Can do,” he says, putting on his very best “hello ladies” smile.  “What brings you here tonight?  Pretty girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone.”

“I wasn’t alone when I got here,” Lorelei grumbles, nodding behind her at a table of overgrown bros, all in their jerseys and gear.  “Oh, come along, it’ll be fun, he said.  We won’t spend the entire time watching football.  I’m sorry to report that regarding that point, dear Donald there was a liar.”

Lance curls his lip.  It’s one thing to just piss him off, it’s another thing to ignore a girl who looks _this_ good.  But, he supposes, finders keepers.  “Seems a shame,” he says, turning to start working on her drink.  “I know the feeling.  This American football shite, why are they all so obsessed with it?”

“It beats me,” she sighs, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  “If you ask me the preoccupation with a bunch of men in skintight pants chasing after balls is comically hypermasculine to the extent that it loops back on itself.”  

That makes Lance laugh.  “Got a point there, gorgeous.”  He pours the bourbon into her drink and then hands it to her.  “There you are.”

She flashes a smile that might look dangerous if one was inclined to think that way.  “Much obliged.”  A moment passes as she stirs the drink, then sips it.  She’s waiting to see if he’ll come up with a new topic of conversation himself.

And hell, he’s never been good at talking to women, but he’s had such an awful night it can’t possibly get any worse, so he says, “Enjoy your New Year’s, then?”

“I did,” she agrees.  “It would have been so depressing to go home alone, so I’m glad I dodged that bullet.”

“Oh?” he can’t help but ask.

“Yes,” she says, raising an eyebrow in a way that means that’s all she’s going to say about that.  Mysteries are one of the things she relies on, honestly.  “I mean, there wasn’t really a question about it, when I decide I’m not going to be alone I’m not alone, but even still.”

“Well, makes sense for a pretty girl like you,” he replies, hoping maybe she’s the type that responds to flattery well.  “You probably have an army of men following you around.”

“Aren’t you the charmer,” she drawls.

“Somebody should appreciate you if that git over there’s not smart enough to.”

She looks down at her drink, then back up at him from under her eyelashes.  “I suppose it’s my fault for hoping I could take him at his word,” she says.

“You can take me at mine, love.  I wouldn’t ignore you for any reason.”  He’s fairly sure she’s receptive to him at this point, which is why he’s started to pull out the white lies.

“A gentleman, too,” she coos, tossing her head back as she takes a sip of her drink.  “That’s a refreshing change.”

He grins.  “I do try.  What’s your name, darling?  I’m Lance.”  Even though he knows he’s told her before, but she appears to have forgotten, which is, he supposes, understandable since Lorelei probably has dozens of men chatting her up every night.  He’s not arrogant enough to assume that she’s remembered him and is just toying with him now.

“Lorelei,” she says.  She leans forward on one hand.  “Lance _what_?”

“Hunter.  Lance Hunter.”  His grin turns a bit fake-bashful.  “My old man thought I needed to sound like an action hero, apparently.”

“I think it’s cute,” she murmurs, twirling a lock of her hair.  “I’m sure you’re more than proficient with _weapons_.”

It takes him a moment to notice that she’s staring pretty pointedly at his crotch as she says this, and then he chuckles.  “ _Proficient_?  I’m an expert, love.  Want a demonstration?”

“I might,” she teases.

“How long are you here tonight?  My shift ends in half an hour.”  He tries to keep the eagerness out of his voice, play it cool.

“I can be here as long as you want,” she whispers, smirking.  Any of his attempts to hide his intent are completely failing, but she likes that.  She likes that he’s easy to read, easier even than a lot of men.

“Well, alright then.”  He smirks.  “Want another drink on me?”

“Please,” she says, leaning back against her seat and rather shamelessly arching so her chest (barely covered by a strategically-torn green tank top) sticks out.

He stares, blatantly, and nods.  “Same thing, or would you like to mix it up?”

“Same for this one, but who knows about after,” she declares.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says with a grin.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” says Skye, accidentally interrupting Jemma in the middle of her debate with Bobbi about the narrative merits of the newest _Doctor Who_ Christmas special, “isn’t that your asshole ex over there talking to that creepy Lorelei chick?” 

Bobbi smiles apologetically at Jemma - she can finish in a second, promise it’s still interesting - before glancing toward the bar.  “If the question is is my asshole ex trying to make conversation with some woman, the answer is almost certainly yes,” she says.  “If the question is is my asshole ex succeeding, the answer is maybe, in his own imagination.”

“I dunno, she looks kinda into it.  She’s all...boob-y,” Skye says, as Lorelei leans forward.

“Well, it _is_ Lorelei,” Jemma interjects, rolling her eyes.  Of course, then she realizes how that could have been construed, and although she doesn’t like the woman even a bit, she still feels it necessary to correct, “I just mean, she has that way of, of looking like she’s into all sorts of people.  Subterfuge or… something.”

“You’re adorable,” says Skye, kissing her cheek (also as a way of apologizing for interrupting her earlier).

“I keep hearing all of these vague rumors about Lorelei’s seductive powers,” Bobbi says.  “Is that really what it is?  Playing around?”

Jemma shrugs helplessly.  “Well, she’s not exactly private about it,” she admits.

“She’s kind of awesome, in a weird way,” says Skye with a grin.  “She basically seduces dudes and then either makes them buy her a bunch of shit or eat her out for hours.  Sometimes both.  Then she kicks them to the curb.  And they’re usually not great dudes, either, so I don’t feel bad for finding it funny.  You know Fandral?  She got to him a couple months back, and left him with a sprained tongue.”

Bobbi snorts.  “Must’ve been self-inflicted,” she says.  “If he knew what he was doing, going for hours wouldn’t have been a problem.”

“N-no,” Jemma squeaks, startled and embarrassed by both the fact that Bobbi’s easy drawl makes that sound just seductive enough to get to her and by the fact that it gets to her while she’s sitting next to her girlfriend that she loves very much.

“You okay there, hon?”  Skye smirks playfully at Jemma.

“Yes,” Jemma mutters.  “I’m… we were talking about _that_ in front of us, anyway.”

“So the odds are she’s going to chew him up and spit him out,” Bobbi summarizes.

“Oh yeah.  Gloriously!”  Skye’s grinning as she says it.  “Kinda wish I could be there to watch it happen.”

Just then, Lorelei slips off her bar stool and saunters toward the ladies’, and before she can stop herself Bobbi murmurs, “I’ll be right back” and follows.

She’s not surprised that Lorelei’s leaning into the mirror, freshening her lipstick, when she joins her, and after a quick sweep of the restroom to make sure nobody else is present she leans against the door to keep it closed and says, “You know he’s an ass, right?”

Lorelei doesn’t even flinch.  “Who, bartender boy?”

“Yeah,” Bobbi sighs.  “He’s an ass.  Trust me on that.”

“Sounds like a lesson painfully learned,” Lorelei observes.

“As I suspect you already know because nobody in this damn mall doesn’t, I was married to the guy,” Bobbi replies.  “Very painfully learned.”

“So this is, what, counsel?”

“This is me pointing out that he’s generally a graceless oaf, but he’s a bigger pain than he seems like,” Bobbi says.  “Not entirely horrible if he likes you, he does some pretty nice things with his tongue, but he might be more trouble than he’s worth.”

Finally Lorelei turns to look Bobbi in the eye, and she’s all smiles.  “Sweetie,” she says, “I have yet to meet a guy that I can’t handle.  But thank you for the concern.”  She makes for the door, nudging Bobbi out of the way.  “Thanks for the tip-off about the tongue thing, too.”

It takes some effort to keep from laughing out loud at that, but Bobbi manages, and once she’s collected herself she returns to her table.

“Well, she’s definitely planning something,” she announces to Skye and Jemma.

Skye looks delighted. “I hope it’s more than a sprained tongue. Although that would be pretty funny.”

“Oh, she’d have to work hard to get that out of him,” Bobbi admits.


	27. I wash my hands clean and let you watch me as I go, I'm sorry for you, just so you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine tries to get to the bottom of Loki's Black Friday outburst, and Tony attempts to white knight for her and fails.

“So rumor has it that your father was instrumental in ending your suggested hiatus.  Any comment on that?”

Christine tips forward over the plastic food court table.  She’s doing her best to interview the sulking Loki, although he’s been hard to get an answer out of.  But she’s persistent - she spent her entire college career working towards valedictorian, and succeeded.  “Odin certainly has some clout around here,” she continues.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he maybe gave your boss some incentive to-”

“My father is a fool,” snarls Loki.  “He just wanted me out of his hair.  That’s the whole reason he made me get a job, he couldn’t stand the idea of his son not participating in capitalist culture.”

“You seem to feel very strongly about that,” she replies.  She knows an opening when she hears one.

“You’re all slaves to it,” he says.  “You can’t even see it.  You’ll buy whatever the television or radio tells you to, never mind if you can’t afford it.  Anything for a shiny new toy.  I was merely trying to free those children from the bonds they have been born into, wake them up and make them see that their society has been lying to them for their entire lives.”

Tony, who’s sitting a few tables over and not even trying to hide his attempts at eavesdropping, murmurs, “Well, it’s not the most unreasonable thing I’ve heard.  Some of Dad’s investors sound like that after a few glasses of bourbon.  But they’re operating from the side that’s trying to _make_ people buy the shiny new toys.  I wonder what stake Guy Fawkes there has in it all.”

“I’m not sure he’s not just blowing smoke,” Pepper whispers in reply, stirring her coffee.

“True.  I’m not sure he entirely knows the meaning of those big words he’s throwing around.  And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s someone who’s trying to make himself sound smarter than he is.”  Tony reaches over to steal one of Pepper’s fries.

Pepper snorts.  “Of course.”

Meanwhile, Loki is still talking and Christine is growing weary.  Two minutes of talk is a nice quote, five minutes is a monologue.  No one reads monologues except starving actors.  “I see,” she says, cutting him off at a pause.  “Now, Officer Hill, I want to talk to you about your actions on Black Friday.”

Maria shrugs.  She can’t exactly say that she tased the kid for being a jackass, even though that’s true, but saying, “He physically assaulted my fellow officer.  I did what I had to do,” is also true and a decent enough explanation.

“I tapped him with a foam sword,” snaps Loki.  “I’m sorry if I bruised his ego.”

Both women ignore him.  “And do you often have to resort to physically restraining customers or employees who are out of line?” Christine asks.

“Not often,” says Maria.  “But even a seemingly harmless provocation can be taken seriously in its context.”

“Oh, do tell me how that would have harmed him.” Loki’s smirking.

“Context,” Maria repeats.  “The nature of the situation.”

“That’s amusingly vague.”

“When your dad buys you a lawyer to join this conversation, I’ll be as specific as you could ever want,” Maria says with a sugary smile.

Loki glares at her.  “Hiding behind litigation is a sign of cowardice.”

Christine takes that opportunity to jump in with “And how do you feel about those accusations, Loki?”

“You’re a biased member of the press,” replies Loki.  “Fuck you.”

That’s not the worst thing Christine’s been called, but she’s startled enough that she doesn’t respond right away, which gives Tony a chance to appear next to her and chime in, “Hey, why don’t you take a chill pill, buddy?  The lady was just asking a question.”

“Oh look, the would-be hero comes to aid his lady,” Loki quips.  “Too bad she’s a nosy harlot who needs to be taken down a peg.”

This makes Christine bristle, but again before she can react Tony’s fist whips out to punch Loki in the nose.  As Loki groans and leans over the table, Tony says, “We’re not in Shakespearean England, but you could’ve called her a lot worse so I’m gonna let you off easy.”

‘“Now, now, Stark,” Maria says, though she doesn’t sound entirely displeased.  “Do I have to take both of you boys down to the principal’s office?”

“I think you’ll find it was provoked, teacher,” replies Tony with a grin.

She sighs.  “Maybe so, but rules are rules,” she declares, moving to lift Loki up and march them down to Fury’s office.

“Wait, Tony, can I talk to you a sec?” asks Christine.

He turns back with the expression of a man who’s ready for praise to be heaped upon him.  “Yes, darling?”

His expression instantly changes when the next words out of her mouth are, “ _What the fuck, Stark_?”  Several people in the surrounding area stop what they’re doing.  At least one pulls out their cell phone and snaps a picture.

“Uh…” he says.  “I’m sorry, did you not like my defending your honor?  I thought women liked that sort of thing.  Pepper, help me out here, you’d like that sort of thing, wouldn’t you?”

From her seat, Pepper just sighs, her expression reading pity more than anything.  “It’s not really that simple,” she says.  “Or that universal.”

“Okay, okay, so I did something wrong.  Judging by your expression, I should probably just stop talking and let you explain what it is.  But first, let me just say that he’s known to be violent and I didn’t know if he was going to, y’know, attack you…”

“I’m trained in krav maga,” interrupts Christine, her face stormy.  “If he _had_ tried anything, I would have taken care of it.  I don’t appreciate you fighting my battles for me, Tony.”

Tony sighs.  “Okay, I’m sorry.  Next time I’ll just leave you to take care of the violent freakshow yourself.”

“Oh, there’s not going to be a next time.”  Christine’s tone is even and serious, and she sounds like she hasn’t even noticed the way people are gathering to watch them.  “I know you think you were being helpful, but sitting three tables away _watching_ me conduct an interview because you feel the need to exercise your machismo protective bullshit isn’t cute.  I’m telling you this so future women you date maybe won’t be subjected to it.  Oh, and,” she adds, leaning in closer so that only he can hear before whispering, “sorry, you’re not as good in bed as you think you are.”  Then she turns and walks away.

Tony’s so stunned he doesn’t even protest when Maria grabs his arm and starts hauling both men away.

Steve, currently sandwiched between Sam and Bucky in one of the sad excuses for booths along one of the food court’s walls, has been taking all of this in with horror.  He doesn’t get the pleasure that some people seem to in watching Loki go off like he does, and the entire semi-domestic drama of Tony and Christine is pretty far out of his wheelhouse too.  He doesn’t like seeing women disrespected either, but thanks in large part to his close relationship with two of them who could hand him his ass without so much as a thought, he understands Christine’s point of view and desire to be justifiably treated as capable and independent.

But he really doesn’t like the idea that everyone’s going to be staring after the bickering… well, lovers.  Staring after them and whispering and speculating and more likely than not being rude.  So before he can stop himself, he springs up and shouts, “Hey, guys, there are puppies for sale!”

Bucky, whose automatic reaction to the word “puppy” is to think of his dogs - even though all three are well past puppyhood - looks horrified for a second, because he doesn’t know of any other dogs Steve knows.

And sensing this, Steve places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, attempting comforting.  “At the pound,” he adds.  “The animal shelter.  The humane society.  There are so many puppies without homes.”

“Nice save, Rogers,” chuckles Sam.

“So, so go adopt some!” Steve concludes, sitting down abruptly and trying to hide the way he’s cringing at himself. But at least he’s managed to divert attention from the drama, and it seems forgotten as the bystanders head on their merry way.

“It’s amazing how much I still love your dumb ass despite how terrible you are at improvising,” says Sam, kissing Steve on the cheek.

From the other side of the food court, Darcy shouts, “So now this is an open forum, anyone else got something to add?”


	28. I still count on one hand the number of good men I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a meme going around the mall, and Victoria is less than pleased, since she's the one who's the recipient of it.

_> >The children are at it again. Can this week be over?_

It had taken a couple of weeks for Skye’s little Black Friday prank to catch on, but one afternoon mid-December, Victoria had been at the front of the store changing the signage when the annoying girl who speaks entirely in memes dragged her lapdog up and repeated the offending slogan before acting it out.

From then on, it had been a fairly regular occurrence: she was greeted one morning with poor little rich boy Tony Stark shouting “hey Vicky, every kiss begins with Kay!” before planting one on the blonde wannabe journalist that in Victoria’s opinion is much too good for him (Ororo came out of the back room in time to hold her back from going to punch the smug little idiot); Darcy and her puppy came back at least twice to repeat themselves; Skye dragged her fellow Mac employee and his boyfriend up and dared them to join the fun one afternoon and although Fitz did refuse and try to apologize, Victoria glared him away.

It calmed down, but now as Valentine’s approaches and the mall is increasingly covered in red and pink hearts and other saccharine nonsense, it’s picking up again. Darcy and Ian’s reappearance is a warning sign, she thinks.

It’s clearly her idea, as he’s the brightest shade of red imaginable, but this time he’s the one who calls out the catchphrase.

“Every kiss begins with Kay!”

She has no idea how they always manage to time this to happen when she’s working, and she also has no idea why they’re acting like that dumb slogan was her idea, but they’re children. That really ought to explain all of it.

 

* * *

 

Normally, Nebula doesn’t give a shit about what goes on at the mall - sometimes Carina will mention stuff, and of course everyone knows about how Loki went nuts on Black Friday, but in general she prefers to keep out of it. But today is different.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she says to Carina.

“I don’t want to be mean about it,” Carina murmurs, worrying her lip.

“We won’t be. She probably secretly likes having something to break the monotony of idiots buying overpriced sparkly shit.” Of course, Nebula suspects the opposite is true, but she’ll never convince Carina to go along with her if she says _that_. “We’ll be quick, anyway. Please?” She twists her face into a facsimile of a pout.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” Carina asks.

“Nope.”

“ _Fine_ , but I’m blaming you,” Carina mumbles. Normally she would feel bad doing that, but, well, it _is_ actually going to be Nebula’s fault.

Nebula shrugs and grins. “Figured you would.” She reaches for Carina’s hand. “Let’s go, I gotta get back before Gamora gets suspicious and calls the mall cops again.”

“Fine,” Carina repeats, more despairingly this time. Honestly, she wouldn’t get up to half of the nonsense she does without Nebula’s influence, but she doesn’t really mind.

Squeezing Carina’s hand, Nebula heads for Kay Jewelers, pulling her along behind. Truth be told, she hasn’t exchanged so much as one word with Victoria since the Odinson Christmas party, and that was brief, so she has no real opinion of her one way or the other, but she can’t resist the potential to annoy someone.

Once they’re in front of the store, Nebula waits for Victoria to be close enough to the front to see them and calls, “Hey, Hand! Every kiss begins with Kay!” before grabbing Carina’s face and planting one on her.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Victoria mutters, making a show of turning away completely as she finishes putting a collection of rings back in the glass display case. It’s not worth paying attention to.

Which Nebula sees as she pulls back, ending the kiss, and that makes her smirk. “Thanks,” she murmurs to Carina.

“You owe me,” Carina says defiantly before she loses her nerve.

“You’re cute,” replies Nebula. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”

 

* * *

 

Not that Rumlow has any real cause to go into the mall today, but he’s bored of IKEA meatballs and, hey, he likes scoping out the girls here. Sometimes while he’s been wandering around, he’s seen couples taunting the employees in Kay Jewelers by yelling the insipid slogan and kissing. It’s pretty funny, but it’s not like he has a girl to participate with, so he’s content watching from the sidelines.

Until he sees this fine piece of ass walking by the store. Tall, long-legged, red hair, permanent “fuck me” face. Ward’s mentioned her before, she works at Victoria’s Secret. Must be his lucky day. “Hey there,” he says, sauntering over to her.

Lorelei sizes him up. One of the IKEA assholes. Goody. “Hello,” she replies tersely.

“Hey there, baby. You don't need Victoria Secret wings for people to know you're an angel.” He grins.

“You’re kidding,” she says flatly, starting to walk away. “You must be kidding.”

“Hey, now wait a minute,” he says, and grabs her shoulders and kisses her before she can get too far.

Her eyes go wide and after half a second of very much not returning the kiss, she pulls back and knees him straight in the crotch, snarling, “Well, it began with Kay, anyway.”

He can’t think of a pithy response; he’s too busy whimpering on the ground.

This time, Victoria nearly starts applauding. She knows which of the IKEA guys are, in fact, Nazi scumbags, so she doesn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse about laughing at their pain. Quietly, and facing away from the front of the store so nobody sees, but still. At least one good thing has come from this whole annoying trend.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, everyone’s lunch breaks have coincided (among other factors, the Gap is excessively slow today), so the five of them are milling about enjoying each other’s company and chatting about their days so far. Steve is having a pretty good day so far - no lengthy returns, no extreme messes left on the salesfloor - so he’s just enjoying the feeling of doing nothing with his favorite people.

Then Bucky says, sort of quietly like he’s embarrassed about it, “Yeah, I had someone yell at me because their expired coupon didn’t work. So I’m glad I could see you guys.”

Immediately, Steve frowns. He has a tendency to get righteously angry when any customer yells at any salesperson for something they can’t control, but it’s especially bad with Bucky. So he gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze, murmurs, “That person is a jerk,” and (even though he usually worries about public displays of affection) lays a gentle kiss on Bucky’s lips.

Bucky immediately relaxes and, when Steve pulls back, he murmurs, “Thanks” and smiles.

“Of course,” Steve says. “Any time you need me, I’m here.”

Sam lets the sweetness of the moment sit a minute before he says playfully, “Hey, what about me? I had to fold shirts for an hour, where’s _my_ kiss?”

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Right here, you baby,” he says, turning back to kiss Sam with equal care.

Which Sam promptly escalates by taking Steve’s face in his hands and licking at his lips until he’s able to dart his tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“ _Ewwww_ , kissing,” says Natasha in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, scrunching up her face.

“It’s cute,” Sharon counters, making the sort of _awww_ face you might see in a cartoon.

“Well I’m glad to know _one_ of you is supportive,” says Sam, letting go of Steve to turn and plant one on Sharon too.

Natasha ignores him. “Oh, hey, look where we are,” she says, nodding at Kay Jewelers across the way. “And look who’s watching us. Or, rather, pretending _not_ to watch us.”

Indeed, Victoria is behind the counter, going over the last hour’s sales figures and periodically sighing to herself.

“Whoops,” Sharon murmurs, flushing.

“Eh, we’re just strolling along,” says Natasha, finding Sharon’s red face too cute to avoid kissing her.

“That we are!” Sam gives Bucky a kiss too, for good measure.

Sharon looks helplessly at Steve, who once again is her go-to for a dose of normal people logic. But Steve seems caught up in the moment and he, too, leans to give her a kiss, enjoying the way it makes her squeak.

After a kiss from Natasha, Bucky grins and says, “Geez, if that’s how you guys react to that I kinda hope people yell at me more often.”

 

* * *

 

Build-A-Bear is one of those places that Bobbi’s seen enough about to doubt that she’d be interested in going in. But her college lab partner’s daughter is turning 3 and it’s not like Bobbi really has that many people’s children to spoil, so she decided to go wild and get little Katie Power a very unique stuffed animal.

Mike had been very helpful and very patient with her - reassuring her that plenty of people come in with no more idea of what they wanted to build than “something colorful, probably?” - and they’d come up with a rainbow-striped zebra in a matching rainbow tutu, so she’s feeling pretty good about things as she heads toward the food court to grab a snack.

Peter’s in the food court, too, trying to pretend like he’s not moping about the stupid Valentine’s decorations all over the mall. Like, whatever, Valentine’s Day is for losers anyway. But he hasn’t been on a date - or a hookup - in a while, and it’s starting to get to him a little, maybe. Fine, more than a little. He’s seen the shenanigans going on in front of Kay Jewelers and he wishes more than anything he had a girl to do that with, because kissing a hot chick while annoying another one? That’s like all of his favorite things in the world rolled into one.

He spots the blonde from the wedding dress store - Jamie? Charlie? something that sounds like a dude’s name… Bobbi - coming his way and decides to try his luck again. When she walks past his table, he says, “Hey there. Your clothes are really nice. But-” and here he flashes her a roguish grin “-they’d look better on my floor.”

Bobbi glances down at her outfit - her usual all-black work wear, slacks and a nice blouse - and then back up at Quill with disdain. “I’d worry they’d get covered in garbage if they got left on your floor,” she replies sweetly.

He laughs. “I mean, that’s probably a fair point, my place isn’t the cleanest. But I’d clean it up for you.” He restrains himself from making finger guns because that might be just a step too far.

“What a gentleman,” Bobbi mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I try.” He shrugs modestly.

“What do you want?” she asks flatly.

“A date, maybe? I think you might really like me once you get to know me. I have killer taste in music.”

“Yeah, sadly, that’s not my only criteria for a date,” she replies with a sarcastic pout.

“Okay, well, can’t blame me for trying,” he says with one last winsome grin.

“Want some advice?” she asks suddenly, because - well, actually listening to her rejection and not pitching a fit is sort of remarkable.

He’s surprised, because usually when he annoys girls into leaving, they just go away. But he recovers and says, “Yeah, uh, sure.”

“Okay,” she agrees before she can think better of it. “If you’re trying to pick up girls who are actually going to want to date you, or actually any girls, maybe don’t start with the sorts of lines that sound like they’re off a vaguely racy version of a bubblegum wrapper.”

He chuckles. “All right, I’ll work on it. Thanks, Bobbi. You have a good day, okay?”

“Yeah, you too, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

“Look, if she asks I’ll just say we’re browsing for presents,” says Skye, squeezing Jemma’s hand and tugging her towards the store.

Jemma sighs loudly. “Do either of us look like the sort to buy anything from Kay Jewelers?”

“Well, no.” Skye grins. “But _she_ doesn’t know anything about us!”

“I assume she knows more than she lets on,” Jemma says. “I mean, really.”

“Probably, but she can’t kick us out for just looking around. We’re gonna leave right after,” replies Skye with a shrug. “Oh my god, is that a necklace with two _butts_ on it?”

From the other side of the store, Victoria hears the question and then registers who’s asking. She sort of hates herself for agreeing with Skye, of all people, but - well, those dumb things do look like butts.

“ _Ssh_ ,” Jemma hisses. “Don’t be rude.”

“I’m not. I’m stating the truth. That’s a butt necklace.” Skye tries to put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles and is only partially successful.

“Oh, do hush!” Jemma exclaims, thwacking her girlfriend in the arm. “It’s not the most - _forgivable_ design for a piece of jewelry, I agree, but honestly. It could be much worse.”

“If you say so,” says Skye, still giggling. She’s quiet for a minute or two, but has another outburst at the Heartbeat collection. “What the fuck is this one with the stupid pulse symbol in the middle of an infinity symbol? That’s just dumb.”

“I guess it’s supposed to mean that… your love will go on forever?” Jemma attempts, wincing.

“Look, I don’t know shit about math but I know the infinity symbol is supposed to be _smooth_ , not all jagged. That’s kind of the point, right?” Skye rolls her eyes. “I can deal with the ones that end in a heart, whatever, but those infinity ones are stupid.”

“It’s too many ideas crammed into one piece of overpriced jewelry,” Jemma agrees.

Skye nods. “I’m glad you’re not actually into any of this shit,” she says quietly.

Jemma shakes her head and gives Skye’s hand a squeeze. “Promise I’m not,” she replies. “Inexpensive nerd jewelry for me, thanks.”

Skye leans over to kiss her on the cheek. “Wanna do the thing now and then run?” she murmurs with a grin.

“If you absolutely insist,” Jemma sighs, though she’s smiling too.

So, Skye, with all the cavalier glee she can muster, calls, “Hey, Victoria! Every kiss begins with Kay!” and dips Jemma as much as she can before kissing her on the lips.

Victoria doesn’t bother to hide her groaning. At least, maybe, she can hope that this will be the last of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [a breathing bliss, so much expression in such an empty air](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/7300388).
> 
> For those who haven't experienced the hilarity of the Jane Seymour Open Hearts collection, they look like [this](http://www.kay.com/en/kaystore/open-hearts-by-jane-seymour%C2%AE/1000530000/100020/1/0/0/0/100020.100023.100053), and the infinity symbol necklace looks like [this](http://www.kay.com/en/kaystore/diamond-infinity-1-20-ct-tw-necklace-sterling-silver-10k-gold?CAGPSPN=pla&cm_mmc=360i-_-MerchantCenter-_-PLA-_-Ad&utm_source=pla&gclid=CLihgJOb1MMCFUZgfgodFk8Ayw).


	29. and my heavy heart sinks deep down under you and your twisted words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a bar party meant for people who want to ignore the atmosphere around Valentine's Day, there's a lot of flirting, some of which is welcome and some of which is very much not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring a cameo from Cessily Kincaid.
> 
> tw: acephobia.

They have been at this bar party for exactly twenty-four minutes, and Darcy has spent exactly nineteen of them hitting on some girl. Or not _some girl_ , Ian supposes, from what he can tell she’s in some sort of rock band with Carina, but - still. He and Darcy sort of came together, and he feels rather put out about it, but he can’t very well say something (in part just because from his seat at the end of the table, he wouldn’t be heard over the dull roar of bar noise) so he’s just sitting there sullenly drinking his craft beer and staring like a creep.

Darcy, on the other hand, is apparently having the time of her life, batting her eyelashes like some coquette in an old film and murmuring things in a low voice, with a smirk.

Just now she’s actually reached to brush a lock of white hair behind the bandmate whose name he can’t remember’s ear, giggling. “So I keep not hearing what everyone plays in this band,” she says.

“Aw, well I play guitar, Laura’s bass, Carina’s keyboard, Nebula’s drums and MJ sings cause she’s got the best voice. Well, an’ she’s the prettiest.” The girl gives a self-deprecating shrug.

“Shush,” Darcy exclaims. “I think you’re all pretty, in different ways, y’know? Like you’ve got different _vibes_. And it totally works. You’re like some retro-punk subculture mashup.”

“Ain’t you sweet,” purrs the girl with a grin. “That’s one of the nicest things anybody’s ever said to me.”

Darcy looks shocked. “Seriously? You’re super-cute,” she enthuses. “Want me to keep going?”

Running a hand through her hair, the girl replies, “I mean, if y’wanna...you’re pretty darn cute yourself, sugar.”

“ _Gosh_ ,” Darcy says exaggeratedly, tugging her lip between her teeth. “Well, not only are you adorable, your accent is. I mean that in the least sketchy way possible.”

“Aw, shucks. I get the sense a lotta people think I’m kinda dumb, havin’ this accent and all. So it’s nice of you to say so.”

“Not to sound eight years old, but no, _they_ are,” Darcy declares. “I mean, I’m not going off much information, but I think you seem pretty smart, Rogue.”

 _Rogue_. No wonder Ian couldn’t remember her name, it’s only halfway a name at all.

Rogue chuckles. “Thanks, darlin’. So’re you. Y’all got plans for the rest of the night?”

For the first time in at least eight minutes, Darcy glances down at Ian and shrugs. “I dunno yet,” she concludes, and he thinks maybe she’s sounding the slightest bit guilty but he also could just be imagining that. “I’ll let you know.”

One of the girls, the one that always wears leather and frowns, tilts her head and glances at the redhead sitting next to her. “MJ, is Rogue flirting? She is running her fingers through her hair and laughing a lot. You said that was a common cue that someone is flirting.”

MJ chuckles warmly and takes a sip of her drink. “Yes, Laura, that’s flirting.”

“But I still don’t understand _why_ ,” replies Laura. “Why are you flirting, Rogue?”

“Cause I think Darcy here is real cute and I want her to know it,” says Rogue with a smirk.

“So you can go up to people and say ‘Hello, I think you are cute and I want you to know it’?” Laura nods, as if absorbing the information. “That seems easy! Thank you for explaining.”

MJ looks as if she’s going to correct her, then shrugs and sips again. “Sure, yeah. Why not. That’ll skip all the difficult shit.”

“All right.” Laura scans the bar for a moment, before sliding out of her seat. “I will be back later.”

Before any of the other girls can stop her, she’s walking over to a girl with red hair seated several tables away and saying, “Hello. I think you are cute and I want you to know it.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” groans Rogue. “MJ, you better go intercept.”

“No,” says MJ, eyes widening as she watches the redhead giggle and start talking to Laura, “I actually don’t think I need to.”

“Hey, Darcy,” Ian says loudly, placing his glass down and standing up. “Dancing?”

“Uh, yeah,” Darcy replies, taking the hand he offers. “Dancing.”

He leads her away into the crowd, but before they can start dancing they’re approached by Jane and Thor, the former of whom says, “Okay, I came to this party, can I go home now?”

“No!” Darcy shouts, looking horribly offended. “No, you have to stay. Thor, tell her she has to stay.”

Thor looks confused. “Jane does not have to do anything she doesn’t want to. If she wishes to leave, I will accompany her. I would not have her be unhappy.”

Darcy sighs. “I just meant, like, there’s so much more night and therefore adventure to be had, y’know?”

Ian shifts his weight, looking rather uncomfortable. “If she’s not having fun, you shouldn’t make her stay,” he murmurs. “We were gonna dance.”

“Yes!” Jane exclaims. “Go dance. Have fun. We’ll be not here.”

“Fine,” Darcy groans. “Go, but you’re accountable if you miss anything crazy.”

“We will most assuredly be!” says Thor cheerfully. “I expect a full report if, for example, aliens suddenly appear among you all.”

 

* * *

 

“You probably just haven’t met someone you’re _really_ attracted to.”

Carina frowns, tightening her grip on her purse strap. “I have a girlfriend,” she attempts. A girlfriend she really wishes would get out of the ladies’ room.

“Yeah, but I mean, _c’mon._ ” Ward makes a _really?_ gesture with his arm. “She’s lacking...y’know, essential equipment.”

“If I did like sex, there are ways around that,” Carina says primly. “But I don’t, so it’s a moot point.”

“You really don’t have to lie like that,” replies Ward. “ _Everyone_ likes sex. If they don’t, they just don’t know it yet. Or they haven’t had good sex.”

“I like kissing,” she offers helplessly.

“I could teach you to like other things,” he says, grinning.

Before either of them can notice, Bobbi is at Ward’s side, an empty bottle in one hand (she’s not going to use it, that’d be too much trouble, but it helps her not go completely uncontrollably angry to have something to hold onto). “How many ways does she have to say no for you to get the hint?” she asks in a low voice.

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’m very persuasive.”

“When a girl says no, that’s the end of the discussion,” Bobbi hisses.

Conveniently, Nebula’s heading out of the restroom just as Bobbi’s finishing her sentence, and she’s at Carina’s side in an instant, slipping one arm around her girlfriend and using her other hand to toy with the butterfly knife that she keeps for just such an occasion. “Back off, shithead,” she growls.

“Hey now, I think we’re overreacting just a little…” Ward holds up his hand like he’s trying to diffuse the situation, and starts to back away.

And almost runs into the rest of the Helldivers, plus Skye and Jemma, who have all materialized to glare at him. “You’re very rude,” says Laura, who looks particularly annoyed, “and you interrupted my flirting.”

Ward starts laughing, but stops once he realizes that no one is joking. “Okay, okay, I can see when I’m not wanted…”

“Oh, how astute,” Jemma exclaims, folding her arms.

“Give the man an award!” says Skye, rolling her eyes.

Ward starts to attempt to sneak away and Rogue says, “You oughta be ashamed, makin’ a sweet girl nervous like that. ‘Cept I know you ain’t ashamed at all, ya jackass.”

“You’re lucky I’m a lady or I’d deck you in the face,” adds MJ.

Normally a line like that from a girl like MJ would make Ward laugh, but right now he’s starting to feel a bit ganged up on, so he takes the first opportunity to dart towards the door. As he practically runs past Darcy, she tosses a stack of dirty napkins at him and shouts, “Go home, Nazi.”

“You okay?” Nebula asks Carina, quietly. She’s running a hand up and down Carina’s arm, which she would never do ordinarily but Carina seems to need it.

“Yeah,” Carina whispers, but her voice is shaky. “He’s awful. I’ve dealt with awful before.”

“I would’ve cut him up if you wanted me to,” says Nebula.

“I believe you,” Carina murmurs.

“Since the rude man has left, I am going to go back and flirt more,” announces Laura. “Her name is Cessily and she thinks I am cute too.”

 

* * *

 

“And honestly, I just don’t know why she had to go and say that! I mean, one of the nicest things was that Harry and Hermione _didn’t_ end up together, and her discounting that…”

“Hey, Jem? Jemma? You need air, babe. Let yourself breath for a sec,” says Skye with a grin, squeezing her hand.

“Obviously I’m breathing, if I weren’t breathing I’d have passed out,” Jemma retorts.

“Okay, but I mean you should stop talking and take some deep breaths. I love it when you talk, but you’re getting a little bit motormouth-y.”

Jemma pouts, pulling her hands into her lap very sullenly. “Fine,” she says, because every comeback she thinks of sounds too juvenile to be taken seriously.

“You’re so cute,” murmurs Skye, kissing her on the cheek. “Even when you’re pouting, you’re cute.”

For a couple of seconds, Jemma tries to resist this, but it’s the repetition that makes that hard to do. Honestly. “Do you want a turn to go rambling instead?” she offers.

“No, but I’m not nearly as tipsy as you,” replies Skye playfully. “How about we go outside for some air? And...other things?” she adds, waggling her eyebrows.

“I’m not tipsy,” Jemma mutters, which is a perfect sign that she is. “Air would be all right. Other things would be more than.” That last is said in _her_ attempt at a sexy voice, which is catastrophically not sexy.

“Alright, c’mon,” says Skye, herding her towards the entrance.

Three minutes later they’re enthusiastically kissing, Jemma being even less quiet than usual due to the alcohol. “Quick,” Bobbi shouts as she bursts through the door, kicking a wad of napkins out of the way. “Include me in your conversation, I need a good excuse to avoid my ex.”

Skye pulls back, causing Jemma to squeak indignantly, and says, “Uh, okay, but it wasn’t exactly a conversation…”

Jemma tilts her head, slipping a hand in Skye’s back pocket as she murmurs, “I’d be okay with including her.”

“See, that’s how I know you’re drunk,” teases Skye.

“Am not,” Jemma defends. “What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help out?”

“I’m sorry,” says Skye to Bobbi. “She loses her filter when she’s drunk.”

“I think it’s charming,” Bobbi replies, shrugging it off. “So you two just came out here to make out?”

Skye laughs. “Well, she needed some air, and, y’know.” She shrugs. “Stuff happened.”

“You intended for stuff to happen,” Jemma corrects. “You were all… insinuatey.”

Skye giggles. “That’s not a word - even _I_ know that - but you’re cute.”

“I think you’re only calling me cute to distract me,” Jemma declares.

“And what are you gonna do about that?” asks Skye, smirking.

“Bobbi, what should I do?” Jemma asks, sounding distressed by the notion even as she leans against Skye.

But Bobbi just chuckles. “You two are too much,” she says. “Ridiculously functional for your age.”

“Geez, we’re not _that_ young,” replies Skye, sounding less offended than she means to.

“And I’m not that old, but you’d be ridiculously functional for my age, too,” Bobbi points out. “Relationships are weird like that.”

“You’d know, I guess. You dated a guy who has pictures of farm animals all over his kitchen and proposed to you with a pizza ring.”

“The farm animals are a recent development,” Bobbi says grimly.

Skye snorts. “Still. You should probably date chicks for a while, you might have more luck.”

“That’s a good idea,” Bobbi agrees, nodding. “Too bad so many of the hot chicks around here are already taken.”

“Damn straight,” says Skye, smirking.

“In most cases, rather the opposite of,” Bobbi quips.

“It’s lovely,” Jemma sighs happily.

“I mean...there are ways we could work around that whole ‘taken’ thing,” says Skye suggestively, mostly to see what Jemma will do.

She probably doesn’t disappoint, between the squeak that comes out of her mouth and how wide her eyes get. She mutters something about “consenting adults, anyway,” but most of the sentence is unclear.

“Would you like that?” murmurs Skye, kissing her feather-light on the lips.

“I don’t feel like having this conversation,” Jemma murmurs, embarrassed. What she means is she doesn’t feel like having it around Bobbi before she and Skye have had it between themselves.

“Okay,” says Skye gently, stroking Jemma’s hair. “Sorry, honey.” She turns back to Bobbi. “Why and who exactly are you avoiding?”

“My ex,” Bobbi reiterates with a roll of her eyes, “and because - well, it’s a bar-sponsored party, which is a prime opportunity for awkwardness. I forget you guys missed out on his whole… Adele fiasco on New Year’s Eve.”

Jemma smiles smugly. “See, perfectly good reasons not to go to bar parties.”

Skye rolls her eyes and squeezes Jemma’s hand. “So, you…”

Before she can finish her sentence, a tall white-blonde man with circular glasses and a suit that is way too fancy for this bar saunters out the door and towards them. “Hello there, ladies,” he says, in a voice that’s just barely tinged with some sort of European accent. “You’re looking lovely this evening.”

Jemma makes a face and Skye looks like she’s about to flip him off or possibly jump him, so Bobbi edges in front of them protectively and says, “I didn’t know the sidewalk was hosting a beauty pageant tonight.”

“Oh, I mean no offense. Simply that I enjoy the small pleasures of life, such as looking at beautiful American girls. Although,” he says with a smirk, his eyes sliding up and down Bobbi’s body, “if I may say, you are the loveliest of the three.”

“How _old_ are you?” asks Skye, curling her lip.

“Not too old to enjoy myself,” he replies with a shrug.

“Oh, great answer,” she snarks. “So we know you’re younger than like, 100. But apparently not old enough to know when you’re not wanted.”

Jutting her chin out defiantly, Jemma asks, “How did you even hear about this party? It doesn’t look like this is your usual crowd,” then immediately hides behind Bobbi again.

“Ah, I hear many things,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s another thing I like about girls like you. Such fire, such _passion_ \- I have found that that often carries over to certain, well, _activities_ -”

Bobbi makes a fist and, before either of the other girls can stop her, punches him square in the jaw.

He reels from the punch, grunting, then rubs his jaw and smiles again. “You see, that’s just the sort of thing I mean. You, my dear, are a fine specimen. Lovely bone structure and hair.”

Bobbi’s first instinct is to put her arms out to either side, directly shielding Skye and Jemma (Skye’s face is a mixture of disgust and anger, Jemma’s is mostly horror) and her second is to snarl, “I really don’t think ‘specimen’ is the compliment you think it is.”

“Oh, I mean it as the greatest of compliments,” he replies. “Are you German? You have a good German jaw. And you,” he nods at Jemma, “you are obviously British. Perfectly acceptable, in most cases.”

Skye lunges for him, only barely being held back by Bobbi’s arm. “Now listen here, Christoph Waltz, you better shut the fuck up or I’ll-”

“And _you_ ,” he interrupts, studying her as if she’s on display behind glass, “what _are_ you?”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Skye attempts to jump him, but Bobbi gently nudges her back, silently praying that Jemma can keep a hold of her girlfriend while she herself moves to deck the man again.

“I think we’ve had more than enough Nazis being creepers tonight,” she declares, giving him her best “if looks could kill” look.

Raina drifts out the door, stuffing something in her purse, and tilts her head curiously at the scene in front of her before starting to laugh. “I guess you can’t find anyone willing to handle your obelisk tonight,” she croons before wandering off.

He doesn’t reply, because he’s too busy whimpering.

“Y’know, I’m starting to see your point about bar parties, Jem,” says Skye.

 

* * *

 

Ward’s hiding out at the run-down table outside the bar, taking swigs of PBR and feeling very sorry for himself, when he hears someone say, “Someone’s lonely tonight.”

He turns to see who it is, and is shocked to see Lorelei smirking down at him. “Yeah, well,” he grumbles, “some people can’t take a joke.”

“Poor thing,” she croons, sliding into the empty chair beside his and leaning on one hand. “Some people, then, might need to adjust their senses of humor.”

“I think so,” he says, her meaning flying over his head entirely. “All I said was that everyone likes sex. It’s _true_ , for fuck’s sake!”

“All the men I know certainly feel that way,” she agrees casually.

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, _you_ seem to too,” he says, grinning at her.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” she drawls, flipping hair over her shoulder. “Is that the sort of girl you like, then?”

“I like a lot of girls.” Ward shrugs playfully. “Can’t say I’d object, though.”

“Object to _what_?” she asks, clearly goading him.

“A woman who knows what she likes.”

“I like a lot of things,” Lorelei murmurs, staring into his eyes. It’s funny to make them admit their fantasies.

“Like what? You seem like the sort who’d enjoy telling me what to do.”

“At times, I admit that can be fun,” she muses, careful not to let on how delighted she is by this turn of events. “Do you take orders well?”

He nods, smirking. “I’m very obedient.”

“I bet you are,” she says. Without preamble, she kicks back in her chair and puts her feet in his lap. She doesn’t really care what he does with them, or if he does anything, but she wants a footrest, and apparently he’s willing to provide.

“So just to clarify, is this all hypothetical or should I call a cab for two?” Ward is doing his best to be smooth.

“Oh, definitely call a cab,” Lorelei agrees, flashing a brilliant smile.

So he does, and while they wait for it he says, “Anything else you like? Or should I wait to ask until a later stage of the evening? Your wish is my command.”

“How sweet,” she giggles. “You have a safeword you usually use?”

He shrugs. “Never had cause to.”

“Well, you do now,” she says, trying to keep the complete shock out of her voice. “So pick.”

After thinking about it for a moment, he asks, “Berlin?”

Lorelei bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Berlin it is. Now right at this moment I think I want to hear what you want to do to me.”

“Well, if it’s not too crude to say I’d like it if you sat on my face,” he says lightly.

“I could do that,” she says slowly, like she’s having to give it some great thought (honestly, this one is walking right into it). “Are you good with your mouth?”

“So I’ve been told,” he says with an overly humble shrug.

“Well, I’ll be happy to be one of your references if you please me,” she teases.

“I’ll take that challenge.” He grins. “Y’know, you’re the first girl at that mall who hasn’t yelled at me for some stupid reason.”

“Oh, I promise if I yell it will be for a very good reason, sweetie,” she assures.

“You will be,” he replies, confident.

“I like the ones with some arrogance,” she murmurs.

He laughs. “Luckily for you, I’ve been told I have that quality too.”

“It suits you,” she says. “You’re not going to disappoint me, I’m sure.”

The cab pulls up, and, going to open the door, he gestures inside. “M’lady.”

“Oh, and he’s a _gentleman_ too,” she exclaims, delighted. She slides into the cab daintily, putting her purse in the middle seat.

“I try,” he says modestly, reaching for her hand in order to kiss it. He’s laying it on a little thicker than usual, but she seems receptive to it, so why not?

 

* * *

 

Christine hadn’t really been planning on going out tonight, but Pepper had mentioned a “fuck this fluffy shit” party going on a few days ago and she’d shrugged and thought maybe she could show up, take notes, and turn it into an article. Now she’s sipping at a screwdriver while she reviews her notes (watching everyone gang up on that creep Grant Ward had been pretty funny, though not strictly pertinent to her subject), in preparation to leave soon.

The bar is still pretty full, so instead of trying to take up an entire table Bobbi just sits at the counter, ordering an apple cider and glancing around. The night… hasn’t really gone as planned, if she’s being honest with herself, because she’d sort of hoped to do something other than yell at assholes, and what she told Skye and Jemma was true, more or less. She’s trying a “no guys” thing right now, and most of her female options are otherwise occupied.

Sitting at the end of the bar is that reporter from Black Friday, the persistent one, and so she doesn’t seem like a creep who’s staring she flashes a smile when the other woman notices her.

“Hi,” calls Christine, waving and then feeling a bit like an idiot for it. “Bobbi, right? I interviewed you on Black Friday.”

Bobbi shrugs, smiles, and closes the gap between them, moving to the nearest seat. “Yeah,” she agrees, all friendliness. “Writing an exposé tonight, too?”

Christine laughs. “Nothing so dramatic. Just a piece on anti-Valentine’s Day parties. It was more productive than sitting at home marathoning _Buffy_ again.”

“And depending which season you’re on, less depressing,” Bobbi quips.

“Well, I usually default to three,” replies Christine. “Faith is hot.”

“She certainly is that,” Bobbi agrees. “The whole wrong-side-of-the-law thing isn’t super great in real life, but she definitely wore it well.”

“Yeah, but I like bad girls sometimes.” Christine grins. “How about you, what’s your season?”

“Five,” Bobbi says. “There’s a lot to be said for it, I think. A complete and at least semi-cohesive Scooby Gang, relationships before they detoured into too much angst, ladies supporting ladies. Some great one-off episodes. Glory.”

“Ooh, good choice,” says Christine. “Glory is awesome. And also hot. You might notice a running theme here.”

“Yeah,” Bobbi chuckles, “but it’s a pretty good theme. I’m still thanking whatever’s up there for putting Faith and Glory in a cheerleading movie together, you know?”

“Oh _hell_ yeah! That movie was responsible for some interesting personal revelations in middle school. I’m guessing for you too?” Christine’s smirking, because she likes where this conversation is going.

“Something like that, yeah,” Bobbi says. She drops her voice to explain, “I went to a private high school that didn’t have cheerleading, but drill team was the next best thing, so there I was.” It’s not like it’s a secret, but in the context of the conversation she’s sure Christine will get why she’s whispering it.

Christine giggles - not something she does very often, but she feels like Bobbi won’t judge her for it. “That’s genius. I was on the school newspaper staff and got to cover all the football games - pretty sure everyone thought it was for the guys. Which, I didn’t mind watching them either.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you,” Bobbi says. “Ours was an all-girls’ school, so college football games were a very pleasant surprise for me. Best of both worlds, until you actually tried to talk to some of the guys and the pleasant illusion was shattered.”

“Oh yeah.” Snorting, Christine nods and adds, “I went to homecoming with one of the linebackers, and spent most of it listening to him summarize the differences between different kinds of pickups. I mean, it was an impressive amount of information, but he didn’t really seem to know any other topics.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes knowingly. “My favorite thing to do when guys pulled that shit - or pull, I guess - is to inform them that I actually already knew that, but did they know some other obscure fact about whatever they’re talking about,” she declares.

“You’re brilliant,” says Christine. “I bet that’s hilarious to watch.”

“Why thanks,” Bobbi grins. “It’s pissed them off as many times as it’s impressed them, but that’s a good test.”

“Well, yeah, guys are ridiculous and can’t always handle it when we aren’t impressed by them.” Christine rolls her eyes. “So, what brings you here tonight?”

“Sheer boredom,” Bobbi shrugs. “And an ill-advised desire to _possibly_ score.”

“ _Well_.” Before she can pause to think about what she’s doing, Christine smirks at Bobbi and says, “I’m not doing anything tonight, if you’re interested.”

Bobbi has to work to keep from laughing, but just at Christine’s forwardness and entirely out of admiration. “You’d be a pretty good option even if it wasn’t a little bit by default,” she declares.

“Gee, thanks,” says Christine playfully. “You too. You’re hot, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Not at all,” Bobbi smirks. “That’s sort of what I was getting at.”

“Great! My place or yours? And can I buy you a drink? I guess I sort of got this whole flirting thing out of order.”

“I’ll gladly take that drink,” Bobbi says. “And as for whose place, what sort of toys are you working with?”

Christine shrugs. “I don’t have that many of my own, honestly.”

“Well, if you come to my place you can pick something out,” Bobbi murmurs, all innuendo.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” Grinning, Christine adds, “What’ll you have to drink?”

“Surprise me,” Bobbi says. “Something hard and fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [do your chanting, do your dance, do you mind if we don't hold hands?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/7421045).


	30. why wear my heart on my sleeve when it looks so good in your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ midnight showing, our heroes dress up in costumes (except for Clint, who is theater security) and do their best to have a good time, despite some weirdness from other attendees.

“Aren’t you freezing in that?” Skye asks, looking pointedly at Trip’s gold bathing suit.

He shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, I’m sure _Fitz_ doesn’t mind.” Skye grins and nudges Fitz, who gives her a baleful look.

“Don’t be mean,” Jemma chides, though there’s not much behind it.

Fitz mutters something that sounds like _that’s impossible_ but calms once Trip puts his arm around him and kisses his forehead.

A cast member in a neon-accented tuxedo strolls up to them. “Any of you virgins?”

“Very assuredly not,” Jemma says over the also-muttered sounds of Fitz wishing they didn’t use that term here.

“Did you bring your own props or do you need to buy goody bags?”

“Fuck yeah we brought our own!” says Skye, brandishing her squirt gun (which is perhaps unfit for the occasion, looking more like some kind of sci-fi blaster and being bright green, but she loves it).

Fitz rolls his eyes. “You do realize this isn’t a screening of _The Fifth Element,_ yes?”

“Shut up, it’s awesome!”

Clint strolls by, wearing a shirt that says THEATER SECURITY on it (never mind that it looks like it’s written in Sharpie), and ducks into the theater ahead of the line.

“Hey, what’s all that about?” asks Skye.

“You saw the shirt, right?” the cast member says with a shrug.

“Yeah but...he made that shirt himself, I’m pretty sure. He’s really supposed to be theater security?” Skye sounded unimpressed.

“After a fashion.” The cast member glances down the rapidly-growing line and makes a face. “Look, you kids have fun, okay? Just wave one of us down if you need us.”

Fitz waits until they’ve gone to say plaintively, “I hate this wig. I like being Riff-Raff, but I’ve always hated this wig.” He scratches his head as best he can under the half-bald cap-half-wig.

“Why don’t you just be Brad? Jemma could be Janet and then you wouldn’t need a stupid wig,” Skye points out.

“Ew,” Jemma cuts in helpfully.

Fitz makes a face. “Never.”

“Okay, okay, more for me,” says Skye, laughing. “You look pretty good in that outfit, anyway,” she adds, smirking at Jemma.

The short dress and obviously-gartered stockings are the sort of thing that under any other circumstance Jemma would be outrageously embarrassed to wear, to say nothing of the fact that her (unusually) black bra is visible under her unbuttoned top. But tonight it’s perfectly acceptable. And she’s damn proud of how accurate their costumes are. “Thank you,” she chirps, putting a hand on her hip and grinning smugly. “You in yours, too. I’m so glad _you_ didn’t want to be Janet, either.”

“Why would I? This costume is way better.” Skye preens, sticking her chest out both to show off the sequined bustier and to show off, well, her chest. “Janet’s either boring or just underwear and Columbia’s more fun.” She nods at her leather-and-sequin shorts, then her sparkly blue tap shoes.

“Don’t Riff and Magenta have sex, though?” Trip chimes in. “I mean, you guys do whatever you want, but I’m pretty sure that’s heavily implied.”

“You don’t have to see them so much as kiss,” Jemma defends.

“Besides,” adds Fitz, “Brad and Janet are all... _sappy_. Cutesy. It’s revolting.”

“Yes!” Jemma exclaims. “The others are just… vaguely deranged polyamorous space aliens.” It’s a less-viable excuse when she actually says it, but it’s not like she’s making it up.

Skye giggles and squeezes Jemma’s hand. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“I admit, I am a little envious of y’all’s fancy costumes,” says Trip with a grin. “Not that I’m not rocking this, of course.”

“You certainly are,” says Fitz, and then blushes. But it gets him a kiss from Trip, so he doesn’t regret it much.

Jemma grins and makes a delighted face at Skye, but before Fitz can say anything about it she says, “I wonder if anyone else came tonight?”

“Darcy couldn’t come, she had a date.” Skye smirks. “With that Rogue girl, I think.”

“Really,” Jemma not-quite-asks.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t blame her, Rogue’s pretty cute. For, y’know, a punk-goth chick.”

Fitz looks confused. “I thought she was dating Ian?”

“Aw, hon, she’s a swinger,” explains Skye. “Not so much with the long-term dating.”

Fitz blinks. “I don’t understand normal people.”

“If it makes her happy and everyone’s aware,” Jemma says, though she sounds doubtful.

Skye shrugs. “Didn’t ask. But I assumed so.”

The line starts moving and, once their tickets have been taken, they sit down - not in the front row, because that’s just asking to be pelted with props, but relatively close to it. Since they were at the front of the line, they end up watching as everyone else files in. Skye’s the first to notice Clint perching in the rafters and nudges the others until they look, too, then attempts to stifle her giggles with both hands.

Somewhere in the middle of people filing in Fitz murmurs “Oh my god” and points at a Columbia and Janet, both wearing Floorshow corsets, coming into the theater. “Isn’t that Victoria Hand and her girlfriend?”

Immediately Jemma whirls around to look, her jaw dropping. “It is,” she breathes out, sounding somehow in awe.

“Holy shit,” giggles Skye. “Do you think we should say hi?”

“Did - if - I mean, you know,” Jemma dithers, “if they see us we’d pretty well have to.”

Trip nods. “I think they did.”

Jemma squeaks, then begins frantically waving.

“Oh my god,” Victoria mutters under her breath.

“What?” Isabelle looks up, seeing them, and chuckles. “Oh.”

“Shouldn’t they still be home watching _High School Musical_ or something?” Victoria asks.

Isabelle strokes down her arm. “Oh, be nice. They’re at least cultured.”

“I like your costumes,” Jemma yells across the theater at them.

“And they obviously recognize good craftsmanship when they see it.”

It’s not a horrible point, and it appeals to her vanity (Victoria isn’t even ashamed to be vain about these corsets) which is manipulative although she knows it’s not meant that way. So, forcing a smile (more like a wince) she calls back, “Yours are nice too.” Politenesses.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” teases Isabelle.

“No,” Victoria mumbles, trying to avoid rolling her eyes. “It could be much worse.”

“Good evening, jewelry queen,” Raina croons, strolling up and stopping beside Victoria and Isabelle’s row.

“Do you need to get by us?” Victoria asks.

Raina giggles. “Don’t worry about me,” she says. “I just wanted to say hello.”

“Why?” asks Isabelle, raising an eyebrow. Victoria’s mentioned this odd woman in passing, but as far as she knows, they’re not friends.

Raina shrugs and adjusts her white bra strap before wandering down the aisle. She glances up at the ceiling, giving Clint a little salute (Clint’s eyes go wide and he very nearly falls off of the rafter he’s sitting on) and giggling. Then it’s down to the front of the theater to say hello to the children, all of them looking so cute and eager and dressed up.

“Charming,” she declares over the two rows of people between her and them.

Fitz yelps in surprise. “You’re...you don’t have any flowers.”

“That you know of,” Raina murmurs, just to see his reaction.

“It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t think the one I do have would reassure you,” she says lightly before turning her attention more closely on the girls. “I almost wouldn’t have recognized you all done up like that,” she says to Jemma.

Jemma, for her part, wiggles in her seat, looking uncomfortable. “I suppose we all have our outlets,” she mumbles, instinctively reaching for Skye’s hand.

“Well, I think she looks amazing,” says Skye defensively, squeezing Jemma’s hand and narrowing her eyes just slightly at Raina.

“Never said she didn’t,” Raina retorts cheerfully. “It seems like it’s catching, too.”

“Catching?”

“The gorgeous,” Raina explains, letting her gaze travel up and down Skye and come to rest on her rather well-accentuated chest for a moment before darting back up to her face. “You’re something to stare at for sure.” There’s a certain note of respect behind it, but also a very certain note of attraction.

Skye blinks, more than a little shocked. “Um. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Raina replies, like it’s a perfectly natural conversation they’re having. She glances down at Trip and Fitz, too, grinning. “Good job, all of you.” And with that she wanders off toward the other side of the room, waving at who the fuck knows.

“What the hell was that?” asks Fitz.

Jemma squeaks out a vague, indecipherable noise in response.

“Was that some kind of test?” Trip asks. “I think we passed it.”

Skye shrugs. “Maybe? Like, have one conversation with the weirdo from the weed store and she’ll spare us when she causes the apocalypse. What?” she asks when the other three turn to stare at her. “It’s totally plausible she’s secretly a crazy supervillain.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Jemma mumbles. “At the Halloween party, I said - but then you just assumed I was prattling on because I’d been drinking, which, well, it’s not unheard of - but - well.” She shrugs and shrinks into herself a bit more, because she doesn’t exactly love being paid sexual attention to herself and she definitely doesn’t love Skye being paid sexual attention to in front of her. She’s not _jealous_ , in that she’s not mad about it, she just… doesn’t like it. It doesn’t feel right.

“Aww, I’m sorry, honey,” murmurs Skye, kissing Jemma’s cheek. “You were totally onto something. Also I promise that just because Raina likes my boobs, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna go jump her or anything. You’re my girl.”

“I know that,” Jemma says all sheepishly. She doesn’t bother to clarify which part she means, because it’s all of them.

Skye reaches to pet her hair, then thinks better of it because of the wig and settles for petting her arm instead. Fitz makes a face just as the lights go down.

And Skye tries to pay attention through all of the pre-show shenanigans and virgin initiations, she really does. She loves this. But she’s been to about a million of these midnight showings, and she can tell Jemma’s still kind of pouty, so after the second of what seems like is going to be a dozen initiations, she leans over and starts kissing Jemma.

Jemma is glad that this particular initiation seems to involve a lot of screaming, because it means nobody hears her moan into Skye’s mouth. It’s a slightly awkward position for making out, but thankfully the armrests are the sort that can be lifted up, so after wiggling a bit to be out of the way of said armrest she pushes it out of the way. This done, they can commence with the kissing. Lots of it.

Skye swallows Jemma’s moans greedily and puts her arms around her as best she can. She kisses Jemma hungrily, running her tongue over her lips until she can slip it inside and loving Jemma’s reactions to it all. Jemma’s not usually this acquiescent towards public displays of affection, but Skye can’t say she minds.

They keep kissing through “Science Fiction Double Feature” and only pause for a few seconds to get their breath during “Dammit Janet.” Skye happens to glance a few rows up and see Victoria and Isabelle also making out, and barely avoids giggling loud enough for the entire theater to hear her. She nudges Jemma and points, and Jemma nearly bursts out laughing herself, hiding her face against Skye’s neck to stifle the sounds.

Once they’ve calmed down, they start kissing again, only stopping when the rest of the theater is getting newspapers out and Fitz, who has apparently been oblivious to them the entire time, finally notices what they’re doing and sprays them with his water gun to make them stop.

“Excuse me!” Jemma shouts over the dull roar of crowd noise and the film itself and singing-along and callbacks and newspapers wrinkling. She turns to glare at Fitz indignantly, attempting to brush some of the water off of her wig.

He scoffs. “You’re the one practically going at it in public.”

“I guess we should’ve saved it for later in the movie - we could’ve blended in,” quips Skye. Fitz glares at her.

Jemma gives one of her very most British huffs, reaching for her newspaper in no time flat and holding it above her and Skye’s heads so decisively it’s clear she means to bring this conversation to an end.

“You guys are ridiculous,” says Trip affectionately.

“We’re adorable,” Jemma corrects airily.

The movie plays on, the audience participates, and they all do the Time Warp, of course (Skye mutters that her tap dancing skills are _way_ better than the girl doing Columbia in the shadow cast). During “Hot Patootie” there’s a minor scuffle in the back when a guy (it’s too dark to get a good look at him, but Skye suspects he’s probably Hydra) attempts to get an unwilling girl to dance with him. Clint swings down from the rafters to unceremoniously eject him from the theater, and all is well again.

Isabelle watches these goings-on, tilting her head in confusion. “What just happened?”

Victoria shrugs, tossing her hair back. “We don’t ask as far as Clint is concerned,” she says. “Sometimes things like that just happen and we accept it.”

When “Touch-a-Touch-a-Touch-Me” starts, Skye and Jemma go back to kissing and a good number of the other audience members follow their lead. Fitz looks acutely embarrassed, and unsure of where to look, since the movie _and_ the people around him are engaging in overly sexual behavior for his taste. He starts to sink down in his seat and cover his eyes.

Trip looks over at him, concerned. “Do you wanna get out of here for a bit?”

“No,” says Fitz in a very small voice. “‘s okay.” He tentatively peeks out from behind his fingers. “If you, ah, wanted to kiss me I wouldn’t object. At least then I could have my eyes closed.”

“Of course,” says Trip gently, leaning over to do so.

Jemma pulls back from Skye to stretch a bit and catches sight of the boys, immediately cooing, “ _Aw_ , look at them.”

“Awwww,” replies Skye, grinning. “They’re adorable! Also now he can’t get on his high horse about us.”

“You know what I want to get on?” Jemma asks.

“Me?”

Jemma nods very seriously. “In a way that’s not appropriate even for _Rocky Horror_.”

Skye moans softly. “That’s hot. Let’s do something about that after this is over.”

“Painting toenails too?”

“Oh, sure! Paint my toenails and let’s do it!” Skye grins.

“And the hair dryer?” Jemma asks in a low voice, smirking wickedly.

“Ooh, you _are_ excited. Whatever you want, honey.”

Biting her lip, Jemma giggles. “Thank you,” she chirps.

“You’re welcome,” murmurs Skye, leaning in for another kiss.

They’re interrupted mid-kiss when a roll of toilet paper from higher up hits Skye in the head. She’s not even really mad, since it didn’t hurt, and she starts laughing hysterically. “Only at Rocky Horror,” she giggles.

Which makes Jemma start laughing too, leaning against Skye’s shoulder and just enjoying the utter silliness of this moment. Fitz, she notices, has nuzzled against Trip too, presumably to hide from everyone else’s aggressive sexuality. Trip doesn’t seem to mind, though - he’s got his arm around Trip and is stroking his back.

“They’re precious,” Jemma whispers to Skye.

“They really are,” nods Skye. “I give him a lot of shit, but I’m glad he’s got Trip. They’re good for each other.”

“They’re wonderful,” Jemma agrees. “I was beginning to wonder if any boy was going to be good enough for him.”

Skye chuckles. “Well, Trip’s got that covered. That boy is pretty much perfect.”

“I think it says a lot about him that he’s wearing a golden speedo and he’s still probably the classiest person in the room,” Jemma says.

“Seriously. It’s ridiculous.” Skye rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “He’s like, like Superman or something. He’s nice and noble and smoking hot and he can cook - does he even have flaws?”

“I hear he hogs the covers,” Jemma attempts.

Skye bursts out laughing. “God, if that’s the worst we can come up with then he’s basically a saint.”

“Exactly.”

Fitz chimes in to ask, “Are you two even paying attention? The Floorshow’s on.”

“Oh, we’re just talking about how awesome your boyfriend is,” says Skye nonchalantly.

“You’re…” Fitz stops talking and shakes his head. “You’re bloody odd, is what.”

“I know,” Skye replies, smiling innocently.

“I appreciate the compliments, guys,” says Trip with a grin. “I know I’m pretty rad.”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I find your arrogance endearing,” he teases Trip, kissing him.

Just then the group sitting behind them joins in with Riff-Raff, singing (loudly and off-key), “ _Frank N Furter, it’s all over! Your mission is a failure, your lifestyle’s too extre-e-e-eme!!! I’m your new commander, you now are my prisoner, we return to Transylvania, prepare the transit be-e-e-am!”_

Skye winces. “Well, that’s happening.”

“Are you intending to show them up, love?” Jemma teases.

“Sure! But not during the serious slow song, whatever. Give it a minute.”

“Fine,” Jemma says, leaning against Skye’s shoulder again. There’s something oddly peaceful about being in a theater full of people in various revealing costumes all watching a forty-year-old movie about lascivious, fabulous aliens. A real sense of togetherness, or something ridiculous like that.

When Riff shoots Columbia, Skye turns to Fitz and says, “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m not!” replies Fitz indignantly. Then he seems to realize the stupidity of the argument he’s getting into and sighs. Skye giggles.

“I promise I would never let _my_ vaguely incesutous alien brother shoot you with a laser gun,” Jemma says very seriously.

“Aw, thanks, Jem,” says Skye playfully. “That means a lot.”

“Glad,” she murmurs, then dropping her voice to a stage whisper to add, “and he was being a bit of an asshole.”

Skye nuzzles against Jemma. “I’m glad we agree on that,” she chuckles.

“ _You’re_ the arsehole,” mutters Fitz, “blaming me for my character’s actions.”

Trip pats him on the shoulder. “Would another kiss make you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Fitz, pouting a little.

Trip laughs and leans over to oblige him.

When “Super Heroes” starts up, Skye joins in, in a much better voice than the people behind them, and then she turns around to sing directly into their faces (they seem to be drunk and not entirely paying attention to her, but she feels like it’s the principle of the thing). One of them says, “I know what you’re doing, bitch. That’s classy.”

“Excuse _you_ ,” Jemma exclaims, whirling around. “We’re all here to have fun.”

“We _are_ having fun,” the guy says, then settles back into his seat like the conversation’s over. Skye, having seen the entire exchange, starts to sing directly at him, which he resolutely ignores.

“Skye,” Jemma says warningly, “don’t start something…”

Once the song’s over, Skye whines “But _they_ started something…” but doesn’t press the issue.

When the shadow cast emcee starts to organize some vague noisy sexy game onstage for anyone who wants to stay, Fitz turns to the others and hisses, “I’m not getting involved in this nonsense.”

“We could go,” Jemma says.

Skye shrugs. “Someone might do something dumb, though. That sounds fun to watch.”

“We’ve been mean enough to him tonight,” Jemma muters, nodding in Fitz’s direction.

Fitz makes vague grumbling noises but looks pleased that Jemma’s on his side.

“ _Okay,_ ” groans Skye.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Jemma promises, trying to add a seductive note to her voice.

That makes Skye perk up. “Okay!”

“Oh god,” groans Fitz. “Trip, can I go home with you tonight? I don’t want to have to wear earplugs again.”

Trip chuckles. “Of course, baby.”

Now Skye’s all too eager to leave, practically herding them out of the theater. There, they’re greeted with the sight of Isabelle perched on Victoria’s lap on one of the lobby benches, making out like the world might end at any moment.

“Oh my god,” Jemma murmurs, sounding not entirely displeased by this new development.

“Holy shit,” says Skye, eyes wide. Fitz looks as if he might faint and even Trip is looking a bit taken aback.

Everyone seems equally riveted, perhaps more out of fear than fascination, and they don’t move or even really breathe for several moments. Then Isabelle pulls herself away from Victoria long enough to turn and look at them. “Do you mind?” she asks, sounding less angry than amused.

“Please, ah, just please, pretend, pretend that, ah,” Jemma stammers.

Isabelle snorts. “Go on, we’re not gonna eat you.”

“Pretendwewereneverhere,” Jemma finishes in a rush.

They beat a hasty retreat, and Victoria mutters, “I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or impressed that we startled them so intensely.”

“Oh, I think it’s funny,” replies Isabelle, nuzzling her. “We gave the sweet little British one a real scare.”

“That’s not that hard to do,” Victoria observes.

“True. Anyway, where were we?”

Instead of answering, Victoria wraps arms around Isabelle’s waist and leans in for another kiss.

Clint, taking his job very seriously, has left the rafters to come guard the lobby. Not that it really needs guarding, but he feels more useful here than watching the pseudo-orgy going on in the theater. When he spots Victoria and Isabelle, he swallows nervously, then decides that when people start leaving in droves, he’ll direct them away from the two women. The last thing he needs to deal with tonight is catcalling, or an angry Victoria Hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [we try hard to play the game 'cause we just want to feel something good](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/7540631).


	31. it’s taken all my life to hear the sacred sound of sweet simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Peggy Carter set about finding a surprise birthday present, while Angie and Sharon go lingerie hunting (much to Sharon's chagrin).

“...bloody hell, I thought Sharon was kidding when she told me they had necklaces that looked like tiny arses.”

Natasha started snorting with laughter the instant she saw them, and has clapped her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep the noise in (it’s not very successful). “The fuck?” she asks once she’s calmed down a bit. “Those are asses.”

Peggy purses her lips, studying the offending items more closely. “Do you suppose they genuinely just wanted to see what they could get away with mass-producing?” she asks.

“I think straight people are just fucking weirdos,” giggles Natasha, whipping out her phone to take pictures of the weirdest examples (one pendant features a tiny dog print inside one of the “hearts,” and another uses them to make the wings of a butterfly). “I have to show Clint and James.”

“Are they equally amused by bad taste?” Peggy quips. From what she’s been led to understand, this James is one of the ones currently tangled up with her niece - she hasn’t met him yet, but her interest is peaked by the mention of him.

“Oh yeah,” nods Natasha. “The first time we dated, James and I used to have a running competition to send each other pictures of the stupidest romantic gifts. I usually won,” she adds with a grin.

“I can only imagine what monstrosities you found,” Peggy murmurs. “Truth be told, that’s one of the reasons I asked Sharon, and in turn you, to help me out today. Finding sentimental gifts that aren’t horribly cliched or disgusting is damn near impossible.”

Natasha chuckles. “I’m well aware. What kind of thing are you looking for?”

“You know, I don’t have the slightest clue,” Peggy says. “It’s very sweet that when Angie says that she’ll love anything I get her, she means it, but that doesn’t exactly narrow it down when I’m shopping for her.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha says, “Steve is like that. It’s a pain in the ass. If Sam wasn’t around to tell me about stuff he sees Steve looking wistfully at, I’d never get him anything but stupid gag gifts. Anyway. I guess the first question is, what sort of jewelry does she like?”

“Honestly?” Peggy smiles fondly, almost but not quite rolling her eyes. “She’s not a particularly… shall we say, subdued person, and ideally her jewelry reflects that. She doesn’t like asking for fancy things, but that’s all the more reason that I want to give them to her.”

“Okay, so you’re probably gonna want something with a lot of stones in it.” Natasha glances around and spots Victoria straightening a display of necklaces at the other end of the store. “Hey, Hand, can we get your help with something, when you have a minute?”

Victoria turns to face them - it’s a slow day, so she’s admittedly been eavesdropping just a little bit, trying to sort out exactly why Natasha is jewelry-shopping with a woman she’s never seen before in her life - and nods. “Sure thing,” she says, assuming that Natasha will pick up on the slight ironic twist to the words.

Natasha does, of course, and smirks at Peggy. “Victoria Hand is about as far from a romantic as you can get. I have no idea why she’s still working here, but she knows her way around jewelry.”

“So,” Victoria begins as she heads over. “Natasha and…?”

“Peggy,” supplies Peggy, smiling like someone who recognizes a generic courtesy and doesn’t begrudge someone for giving it. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Sharon’s aunt,” Natasha explains to Victoria. “She’s here looking for a birthday present for her girl.”

“Her… girl,” Victoria repeats, raising an eyebrow. In her experience, “her girl” can mean one of a few things: her female friend (“oh, you know, I’m getting something for my girlfriend” followed by Victoria’s interest peaking followed by “yeah, she’s getting married to the guy she’s been seeing and I wanna surprise her with a nice piece of jewelry”), her daughter (“yes, I wanted to get something nice for my girl… she’s my only daughter, you know”), or her girlfriend (this option rarely happens, because while a pleasant number of queer women work at this mall, none of them are part of the regular Kay clientele, and most of the people who _are_ part of it tend to be straighter). Clarification is relevant.

“Angie,” Peggy agrees with another smile. “We’ve been lovers for years and exclusively so for much of that time. She doesn’t like to ask for flashy gifts, but that’s all the more reason to give them.”

Victoria nearly laughs at the woman’s bluntness, but delightedly so. “How flashy are you thinking?” she asks. “As you’ve doubtlessly seen, we carry a wide range of flash.”

Peggy _does_ laugh, entirely fondly. “She’s drawn to sparkle,” she says, “but managing to keep it understated enough that it wouldn’t look out of place in daily life would be preferable.” She pulls a bit of a face. “I’d prefer something that won’t entirely be unreasonable on my teacher’s salary, too.”

“And I’m here to offer advice, sort of,” adds Natasha wryly. “Not that I’m great at this either.”

“Noted,” Victoria says. She’s sure it’s got something to do with the arrangement between Natasha and Sharon and all of their boys, why Natasha was volunteered for that task, but - in a very weird way, that makes her respect Natasha’s being here more. Doing legwork. (While Victoria loves Isabelle, for example, she’d rather give herself food poisoning than help any of Isabelle’s relatives pick out jewelry.)

“So I don’t suppose you’d feel like helping us jewelry-illiterates out?” Natasha makes a mock pitiful face.

“Conveniently, that’s what I’m paid to do,” Victoria says with a smirk, lowering her voice to add, “I much prefer the honest customers to the ones who come in with unrealistic expectations, too.”

 

* * *

 

Sharon is technically supposed to be distracting her… not quite aunt (it’s complicated, because Aunt Peggy’s husband had been her uncle, but Angie and Peggy have never legally qualified their relationship, so Angie isn’t strictly speaking her aunt officially, but it’s a simpler explanation than “my aunt’s long-term live-in girlfriend” anyway) while Peggy and Natasha go do the sneaky part of this shopping trip.

Sharon did not bank on said distraction leading to Victoria’s Secret.

“Hey, whaddaya think of this?” Angie holds up a pale blue teddy that’s mostly lace. “Kinda matches my eyes.”

Sharon is fairly sure she squeaks. “It… does do that,” she agrees lamely.

“Or maybe I should go for pink,” muses Angie, looking at a two-piece set that’s pale pink and has slightly more solid lace. “Peg likes it when I’m all girly.”

“You know, I’m fully aware that the two of you have a fair amount of sex -”

“You bet we do!” interrupts Angie with a wolfish grin.

“-but I’m actually very comfortable not knowing particulars,” Sharon concludes. “It just feels off.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Angie looks slightly chagrined. “Should we go somewhere else?”

“Something I can help with, ladies?” croons Lorelei, swooping in from who knows where with the sort of smile that implies that she feeds off of human discomfort.

“Oh, we’re just lookin’ around, thanks,” says Angie, who has never met Lorelei and is naturally trusting.

Of course, that’s not _really_ a concern in this situation, due mostly to the fact that Lorelei doesn’t get pleasure from ruining innocent girls (clearly this customer who’s making cute little Sharon so uncomfortable is older than her, but she still seems like a girl). But there aren’t any dumbasses in here buying lingerie to dress the girlfriend they wish they had instead of the girlfriend they do have, so she’s killing time. “You sure?” she asks. “I could recommend some favorites.”

“Oh, well, sure!” Angie smiles. “Thanks. Haven’t been to one of these places in awhile.”

Sharon tries to do her best to be polite and not groan. Instead, she folds her arms and stares Lorelei down warningly.

“Is this for a special occasion?” Lorelei asks.

“Just my birthday,” replies Angie modestly. “My gal Peggy, she offered to buy me anything I wanted, and I thought maybe I should get somethin’ she can enjoy too, if y’know what I mean.”

“Oh, good grief,” Sharon mutters.

It’s not the best answer in terms of answers that would make Lorelei giggle to herself (those are always fun) but it does have the added bonus of involving absolutely none of the aforementioned sorts of dumbasses. “Well, aren’t you just lucky _and_ generous all at once,” she murmurs, waving the other women toward a back corner of the store where the Very Sexy (the company’s term) pieces are kept.

“I’m the luckiest,” says Angie in her matter-of-fact way. “She’s so great, Peggy is, she’s brave and smart and gorgeous and she has legs that go on for days and the nicest brown eyes and god, what a figure. Almost ten years with her and I still feel stupid giddy when I look at her. I knew when I first saw her then - she was the history teacher and I’d just got hired to do drama classes - I just knew she was the only girl I’d ever want. Oops,” she adds sheepishly, “there I go runnin’ my mouth again. You gotta tell me when to stop or I’ll just keep chattering on.”

Lorelei raises an eyebrow. She’s not entirely used to dealing with that much sincerity, even just observationally. “You’re enthusiastic,” she shrugs. “I’m sure it works for her.” Her, meaning the girlfriend. “Would you be open to something like this?” she asks, holding up a red number that could politely be described as designed for smoldering.

“Shit, Angie,” Sharon mutters, ready to jump in if it’s needed.

Angie’s eyes go wide. “God, uh,” she says, “d’you have anything with less...smolder?”

 

* * *

 

“...and jesus, Peg, you’ll never believe this red number she showed me! I mean I know it’s gonna just come off, but it was down to here!” Angie demonstrates the cut of the piece with her finger.

“Well, it was the Very Sexy collection,” Sharon interjects, smirking.

Natasha snorts. “I like that they apparently have to label it. In case it wasn’t obvious.”

“Lowest common denominator, I imagine,” Peggy shrugs. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you did pick out, though, darling.”

“Yeah, I think you’re really gonna like it.” Angie smirks.

“Next time, you get to do underwear patrol,” Sharon mutters to Natasha.

That makes Natasha laugh. “Alright. I’m sorry we subjected you to that, _зайка._ ” She takes Sharon’s hand in hers and rubs her thumb across the back of it.

“I’m not even good at picking out lingerie for myself,” Sharon mumbles sheepishly. “Let alone…”

“Sorry,” Angie says, grinning apologetically. “Thanks for humoring me. You were a good sport about it.”

“Well, as long as I was a good sport,” Sharon says with a friendly shrug. “Hey, I even got rewarded with ice cream for it.” She nods down to her bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough.

“‘s a good reward,” agrees Natasha, taking a spoonful of her plain chocolate.

“Glad you agree,” Peggy declares. “I figured it was the least we could do for making you haul us around all afternoon.”

Natasha shrugs. “Not hauling. I had a nice time.”

Sharon squeezes her girlfriend’s hand gratefully, then turns to nod at her aunt. “You were saying you wanted to discuss party plans?”

“Yes,” Peggy agrees. “First off, I’ll need an exact head count for dinner.”

“Five on our end,” Sharon says immediately.

“Sounds good!” says Angie. “It’ll be nice to see Steve again, huh, Peg?”


	32. and with our love we conjure up the twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharon brings her people over to Peggy and Angie's for the party.

“I still can’t believe that Ms. Carter is your aunt,” Steve says to Sharon, squeezing her hand excitedly. “Carter is a common enough last name that I didn’t think to ask, but that’s so - what a coincidence!”

“Aww, you’re cute when you fanboy,” says Natasha from the front seat.

“I can’t help it,” Steve says before he can think better of it. “You’ve met her, you should understand.”

“Oh I don’t disagree, but your fawning is adorable.”

“Are you going to manage to keep cool in her presence?” Sharon asks playfully.

“Excuse me, but are y’all talking about Beyoncé or what?” jokes Sam. “I’m feeling a little left out here.”

“Well, I could explain it, since she’s my aunt, but I think Steve should have the honors,” Sharon says.

“Well,” Steve echoes, nodding like he’s about to begin some sort of serious dramatic recitation. “High school wasn’t really a great time for me.” Part of that, of course, is because of the abrupt loss of Bucky, but he knows better to say that in Bucky’s hearing - it’s not a judgment, but it’s still an unpleasant reminder. “I was a scrawny, artsy goody-goody, which, ah.”

“Were you in the glee club too?” Natasha is smirking, but there’s no venom in her words - they both know she’s only teasing.

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “I most certainly was not,” he says, deciding that now is not the time to mention the school musical he was roped into participating in. “I had friends, I got by, but I guess dissatisfied is the word.”

“Aw,” says Sam sympathetically. “I can’t imagine you being dissatisfied with anything, except injustice, of course.” He grins, trying to lighten the mood, but when he glances back at Steve in the rearview mirror his eyes are sad.

“I’m not trying to ask for pity or anything,” Steve shrugs sheepishly. “But the point is that my junior year, I was taking AP US History and Ms. Carter was my teacher. I was one of the only kids in the class who actually seemed interested in the subject and not just the AP credit, so she became sort of a mentor to me. She really encouraged me with my art and my studies, and when I decided I wanted to try to get into shape she was really supportive and gave me some resources for getting started.”

Sam’s smiling again. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, shrugging again. “She helped me choose colleges and she wrote recommendation letters for me and everything. I needed that kind of good influence.”

“I think you would’ve been okay, Steve,” says Bucky, running his hand down Steve’s arm. He’s been quiet for most of the car ride, processing and gearing himself up for the evening, but he feels it’s important to reassure Steve of his inner goodness.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve says softly, closing his hand over his boyfriend’s. “I want to think I would’ve been, but Ms. Carter really helped, anyway.”

“Plus you were pretty taken with her, as I understand it,” adds Natasha playfully. “Didn’t you say something about some experimental poetry?”

“Hey, now,” Steve exclaims, eyes going wide. “I may have dabbled in some things, but not so that it’s worth mentioning. That’s what kids do at that age.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’d never tell her. I just think that’s also pretty endearing.”

It’s pretty clear that by this point Steve is flustered, which means that his only response is, “Yes, well, you know.”

“I highly doubt that she counted on seeing you again in the context of being in a poly pile with her beloved niece,” Sharon quips, “but I’m sure she’s going to be excited to see you again in general.”

“She knows, right?” asks Bucky. “I mean, I know you told her about Natasha and she knows the rest of us are coming, but does she...know?”

Sharon hesitates. “Not… entirely,” she says. “I sort of alluded, but I haven’t directly said the p-word. She’s not going to freak out, ‘cause of the Angie situation -”

“I’m still so surprised,” Steve interjects. “I mean, there were rumors, but there were rumors about all of the teachers getting… romantic with each other. Except Mr. Jarvis, he was always very proper.”

“So do you know how long Peggy and Angie have been together?” Sam asks, vaguely in Sharon’s direction. “I know since you were a kid, but it seems like it’s been going on for a while.”

“Well, I think I was maybe fifteen when I really put it together,” Sharon says casually, “which means it had been a long time before that.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s a long time.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that they were subtle,” Sharon observes. “They’re good at adapting.”

Natasha makes a small noise of approval. “I thought I liked Angie. Even though she’s very...enthusiastic.”

“So uh, where does Angie fit in exactly?” asks Sam.

“Oh, Ms. Martinelli was the drama teacher,” Steve explains, nodding. “I knew they were friends, just…”

“Not more than that?” Natasha is smirking again.

“I never felt right gossiping about teachers,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky smiles. “You were a good kid, Steve.”

Steve flushes, all sheepish and shy. “I wanted to be, anyway.”

“You’re a regular Boy Scout,” says Sam affectionately. They all fall into companionable silence for a minute or two while Sam navigates the neighborhood the GPS directs him into, before finally pulling into the driveway of a pale yellow house. “And we’re here!” Sam says cheerfully.

“Aw, it’s so domestic,” says Natasha as she gets out of the car, cocking her head as she looks as the house.

“Yeah, they’re all sneaky like that,” Sharon says wryly.

Bucky adjusts his shirt, grabs the presents from the trunk of the car, and then heads for the door. “I guess we’d better go in?”

“Yeah,” Sharon repeats, trying for comforting. “It’s going to be fine, I’m sure of it.”

Bucky turns back to smile gratefully at her. Natasha pats him on the shoulder before ringing the doorbell.

After a moment the door opens and Angie’s standing there, grinning madly. “Sharon! And Sharon’s bunch. I know Natasha, but who are all these gorgeous fellas, Sharon? Come in and you can introduce yourselves!”

Sharon grins and steps inside, waving for the others to follow. “Well,” she begins, drawing the word out, “this is Sam, and Bucky, and you know Steve.”

Peggy appears from around the corner, equally smiley, but she catches the glint in Angie’s eyes and doesn’t say anything quite yet.

“Little Steve Rogers? Hell, you grew up nicely!” Angie opens her arms to give Steve what’s probably supposed to be a bear hug, except she’s a head shorter than him. “I remember when you were half this size!”

“You’re exaggerating,” Steve mumbles.

“Not really,” says Bucky quietly, grinning. He nods and smiles awkwardly at Angie once she pulls back from Steve. “I’d, uh, I’d offer you a hand, but I’ve got these…”

Angie grins back. “I gotcha. Bucky, yeah? That a nickname? Not a bad handle, either way.”

“Um, my real name’s James…”

“Oh, that’s nice too! But I’ll call you Bucky if that’s what you want.” Angie turns to Sam next. “Shit, Sharon, how’d you snag _three_ men this pretty?”

Sam laughs and extends his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Angie.”

“Likewise,” says Angie with a wink. She nods respectfully at Natasha, who nods and smiles back. “And you, young lady,” she says to Sharon, “obviously need to visit more! Imagine finding out about these lovely people through email! That’s where she first mentioned you all,” she adds to the rest of the group.

“Sharon leads a busy life, as I’m sure all the rest of you do,” Peggy interjects, giving Angie a gently chiding sort of smile before turning a more polite one on the rest of the group.

“Hi, Ms. Carter,” Steve says shyly, waving.

Peggy rolls her eyes, but good-naturedly, and she leans in to give Steve the briefest of hugs. “Please, we’re all adults,” she says. “Peggy will do.”

“Peggy,” he repeats, trying it out on his tongue and coloring.

“Well, this is amusing,” says Natasha, smirking. “Nice to see you again, Peggy.”

“And you,” Peggy nods. “Found any more daft gifts to photograph?”

Natasha laughs. “Not as of yet, but it’s an ongoing game.”

“Those were awful,” interjects Bucky. “They really _were_ asses!”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, I thought y’all already knew about how weird Kay Jewelers was. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Peggy.” He offers his hand.

Which Peggy accepts with a pleasantly surprised sort of smile. She’s glad her niece has managed to find a group with manners. “Well, why don’t we all come in and get settled, yes?” She nods toward the living room, but she doesn’t actually start moving in that direction until Angie takes her hand and joins her.

“Uh, where do you want these?” Bucky asks, nodding at the presents he’s holding.

Peggy and Angie exchange looks. “Pile on the side table, I suppose,” Peggy says.

Bucky nods and shuffles off to put them down, dashing after the others once he’s done.

They all settle into the living room, and after a moment Sam asks curiously, “So are you expecting anyone else, or are we it?” He’s not quite sure of the details of Sharon’s relationship to her parents, or Peggy’s relationship to her brother, and he’s suddenly wondering whether this’ll turn into a family affair.

“Nah,” says Angie, smiling. “We went out with some of our work pals a couple nights ago, and Harry and Amanda are out of town on some business gig. I dunno, they didn’t give a lot of details. You know your folks, Sharon,” she adds, rolling her eyes playfully at Sharon.

“Yeah, I sure do,” Sharon agrees with a rather resigned expression. “To be honest, I think this will be more fun.” Not to mention less stressful, given that she’s told her parents even less about this arrangement than she’s told Peggy and Angie (and Peggy and Angie have pretty much figured it out, anyway).

“Oh, no doubt.” Angie grins mischievously. “If they were here, we couldn’t drink!”

“You say that like my parents don’t know I’m old enough to do that now,” Sharon huffs.

“Well, yeah, but drinking in front of your parents is no fun. But drinking in front of your aunts…”

“Why, that’s practically like getting dragged along to a party by big sis,” Sharon declares. Technically speaking Peggy’s too old to be her sister, but she’s still young enough that she doesn’t entirely feel like an aunt a lot of the time either.

“Exactly! So, can I get anyone anything? Booze? Or snacks? Peg went a little overboard with the snacks,” Angie says with an affectionate smile.

“I wasn’t entirely sure what you’d want, so I prepared,” Peggy defends. “Will everyone be all right if I open a bottle of wine?”

There’s a chorus of “yes”es, although Sam chimes in to say, “Just a little for me, thanks. I’m the only one of us who can drive reasonably well.”

“I take offense to that!” Natasha nudges him with her shoulder. “My driving skills are excellent.”

“Girl, it’s a miracle you’re not dead,” he replies cheerfully.

Peggy’s already on her feet and heading to the small wine rack on the kitchen counter. “Red or white?” she asks. “I can’t guarantee they’ll be the best ones you’ve ever tasted, but they’re not the worst, either.”

“Oh, I’ve had worse, I’m sure,” says Natasha. “Either way is fine with me.”

‘I can go either way, too,” Steve chimes in, shrugging.

“Bring the red,” Sharon decides. “If we don’t make up our mind now, we’re never going to.”

Peggy has to make two trips to bring the bottle and all of the necessary glasses, but she does so quickly enough that there’s no real lag in the conversation, and as she’s uncorking the bottle and starting to pour she says, “Are we going to get any sort of story about you five?”

Sam chuckles. “You might need to elaborate. Like how we all met, or what we all are, or do you want actual stories? I have a great one about this one time when Tasha and Steve were pretending we weren’t on a three-way date.”

“Ooh, I wanna hear about that!”

Peggy nudges her girlfriend pointedly. “In a minute,” she amends. “I’m more interested in some combination of the first two. You met at the mall, to whatever degree, but that’s hardly all there is to it.” She smiles as comfortingly as she can. “I promise this isn’t some stand-in for a meet the parents conversation. I’m genuinely curious.”

“It’s a funny story,” Steve says playfully, nodding to Natasha. “We, she and I, we both dated Bucky and then we were both dating Bucky.”

Bucky sort of rolls his shoulders, looking embarrassed but pleased. “Something like that,” he says shyly.

“And I was just too charming to resist,” adds Sam with a grin, taking a sip of wine.

“Sharon was my fault, sort of.” Natasha’s smirking again. “Well, Steve mentioned her but I called dibs first. I was tired of him getting to have all the fun first.”

Sharon blushes, but she’s grinning. “Did you know you can dibs people?” she asks her aunts. “I didn’t until now.”

“Sure did,” replies Angie, reaching to squeeze Peggy’s hand.

“Well, it was a surprise, but I can’t say that I mind,” Sharon says. “And just judging by the way you’re reacting, I guess you guys don’t mind either?”

“You kiddin’? How could I mind? You’re all so sweet together!” Angie smiles fondly at all of them.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Peggy agrees. “I don’t see anything at all the matter with it, provided you’ve all worked it out, which I’m sure you have.” She nods in Sharon’s direction. “But if you don’t want me to tell your parents, I won’t.”

“Maybe not for a little while?” Sharon says. “I’m still sort of figuring out how to tell anyone. I’m just glad that everyone seems to have picked up on the clues so far.”

“We’re not exactly subtle,” replies Natasha.

“And it’s not exactly a traditional arrangement,” Steve says carefully, “so I can see why everyone picking up on it but being nice is a good surprise.”

Sam snorts good-naturedly. “Always putting a nice spin on it,” he says, reaching over to pat Steve’s shoulder affectionately.

“What about this isn’t nice?” Steve asks, sounding vaguely bewildered.

“Nothing,” replies Sam quickly. “Just...people aren’t always so nice about this stuff.”

Peggy sighs softly, squeezing Angie’s hand. “Nontraditional arrangements, however full of love they may be, will always baffle a certain bunch of people,” she declares. “But those are the people whose opinions matter the least, I think.”

Bucky nods, leaning against Steve. The others are either nodding along or looking serious, as if they’re lost in thought. Finally Angie says, “Well, that was heavy. Thanks for sharing. I hope you all make each other happy for a good long time.”

“Thanks,” says Natasha, speaking for all of them. She smiles at Angie.

Sharon laughs nervously. “Sorry for being such downers all of a sudden, Aunt Angie,” she murmurs. “You said something about snacks?”

 

* * *

 

“Are you...are you a broken robot?” Bucky furrows his brow in confusion.

Sam shakes his head frantically and keeps rocking back and forth on his heels, his arms held out on either side of him.

“You’re an impatient scarecrow!” Sharon exclaims, setting her wineglass on the table and leaning against Steve’s shoulder with a satisfied grin.

Sam chortles and shakes his head again. Then he stops, and starts shuffling his feet around in a weird sort-of-pattern.

“You’re a child who needs to take a piss?” asks Natasha, smirking.

Peggy snorts laughing, then hides her face in Angie’s neck; Angie pets her hair affectionately while giggling behind her hand.

Sam glares at her before raising his arms in front of him and beginning to turn himself around and around, raising his arms up and down. He walks in small circles as he does so.

“A… theme park ride?” Steve suggests.

Sighing, Sam stops, plants his feet, and cups his hands like he’s holding a stick between them before moving them through the air, keeping them stuck together.

“Cricket,” Peggy calls out.

Sam makes the gesture for _keep going_ and does the motion again.

“Cricket bat?”

He does it again, slower this time.

“ _Baaaaat_?” Sharon says, drawing it out exaggeratedly. (As usual, she’s somehow tipsier than the others despite having had approximately the same amount of alcohol.)

“You’re cute,” murmurs Natasha, reaching over to stroke down her back.

“Mm, thank you,” Sharon hums happily, arching against Natasha’s hand without entirely moving from her place against Steve.

“Noun or verb?” Steve asks. “Are you allowed to… indicate?”

“Birthday girl says it’s fine!” calls Angie.

Sam looks relieved, and holds up two fingers, hoping they’ll understand his meaning.

“Verb!” Steve exclaims. “You’re… you’re…”

Sam does the movement one more time.

“Steve, you’re the one who knows sports,” says Bucky.

“Well, he’s batting, but we’ve already said bat,” Steve frowns. “He’s... swinging?”

“Yes! Finally,” sighs Sam. “I was trying whatever I could think of.”

Natasha chuckles. “And the toddler needing the bathroom was…?”

“Swing dancing! C’mon, girl, I’d expect _you_ of all people to know.”

“Oh no, that isn’t my area at all,” she protests with another laugh. “‘Dancer’ doesn’t mean ‘proficient in every style,’ you know.”

“Alright now, kids,” says Angie with a grin. “I’ll go next, if nobody minds?”

No one objects, so she bounds over to the box full of slips of paper and pulls one out. Then she proceeds to open her eyes comically wide and look shocked.

“You’re trying to take a silly photograph,” Peggy calls out.

Angie rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and then, keeping the expression, puts one hand against her cheek and lifts her hand so she’s pointing ahead at something.

“Fire?” asks Bucky.

“Look out?” guesses Sam.

“It’s a bird, it’s a plane…?” Sharon begins.

Angie sighs and changes tactics, miming pulling a lever.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Some kind of machinery?”

“Joystick?” Sharon says, ignoring the snickers it elicits from the others.

“Fire...alarm?” Bucky tilts his head.

Angie nods eagerly and moves her hand to encourage him to keep talking, going back to her original shocked face.

“Frightened of fire...pyrophobia…um…”

“Alarm?” Sam chimes in.

Angie hops and claps her hands. “Yeah! I woulda thought the faces I was pulling would be convincing enough, but I guess not.”

“They were charming, love, but not entirely all-encompassing,” Peggy says with a playful sort of pouting face.

Angie returns the face. “You think you could do better, English?”

“I’m not the actress,” Peggy retorts airily.

“I dunno, I think you’ve been pretty convincing,” says Angie, practically purring the words (she means to be as suggestive as possible).

“What exactly do you mean by that!” Peggy yelps, looking completely indignant (and being completely oblivious to the kids’ expressions).

“You _know_ ,” replies Angie, smirking. “C’mon, Peg, it’s my birthday. Please?”

Peggy rolls her eyes, but she pushes out of the chair. “Fine,” she says. “But only because I love you.”

“It’s not that hard,” says Sam cheerfully.

“C’mon, you can do it!” Sharon shouts encouragingly.

Sighing dramatically, Peggy reaches into the prompt box.

And immediately bursts out laughing.

“Oh, that’s a good sign.” Natasha looks riveted.

“I’ve got the best clue for it but I have no idea how to act it out,” Peggy exclaims.

“Oh, just give it your best go,” says Angie.

Peggy makes a face, then holds two fingers up in a sideways “v” shape.

“Vagina!” says Bucky.

“You would,” says Natasha affectionately.

Trying not to laugh, Peggy uses her other hand to draw a rectangle in the air, then “hold on” to what’s been vaguely established. Her first hand comes across the empty space, fingers spreading out and coming back together over and over.

“Oh, scissors!” Sam laughs. “Yeah, I see where you were going originally.”

“You’re good at this game,” Sharon declares lazily.

“Sure am,” replies Sam, grinning.

“I think it’s Natasha’s turn next,” Steve announces, mostly just because he wants to see if she’ll actually play.

“Must I?” asks Natasha dramatically, but she stands up and wanders over to the box. She stares at her slip of paper for a moment, then nods as if to herself and puts both hands in the air in front of her, as if gripping something. Then she purses her lips.

“I’m not going to say it,” Sharon giggles.

“The only reason I’m not rolling my eyes is because I’d be saying it if I were you,” says Natasha good-naturedly. Then she goes back to posing, moving her fingers up and down. “See, not a blowjob. Or at least, a really weird one.”

Angie snorts. “ _Well,_ ” she says, and lets that be for a moment before adding, “Blowing a horn?”

“Bugle!” says Sam.

“Trumpet?” asks Bucky.

“Glad to know _someone_ understands me,” says Natasha, grinning and taking a quick bow.

“Where are these words coming from?” Sharon asks.

Angie shrugs. “Anyplace, mostly. I add to it every couple weeks or so. Just words I think up, I guess.”

“Do you play charades a lot?” asks Sam playfully.

“I’m an actress, whaddaya think?”

“She’s very good at spontaneously offering up party games to keep people entertained,” Peggy declares fondly.

Angie smiles at her and then says, “Steve, I think you should go next! I remember that time you were Will Parker in _Oklahoma!_ , I bet you’ll be great at this.”

“Steve!” Sharon exclaims, giggling. “You never told me you did musicals!”

“It was just the one,” he mumbles, squinting and hiding his face.

“That’s adorable,” says Natasha. “I don’t suppose someone had the good sense to film it?”

“Why, of course not! That’s illegal!” says Angie, winking exaggeratedly.

“Oh, you’re being mean,” Peggy exclaims, pouting overdramatically.

Angie pulls a face at her before flopping into her lap again. “Just havin’ some fun, Peg.”

Steve smiles at them before rising and grabbing a paper from the box. Immediately he makes a face. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this,” he says.

“Ooh, that means this’ll be fun,” says Sam, grinning.

“It’s not dirty,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Just go,” Sharon shouts.

Steve sighs, then starts drawing lines in the air in a vaguely vertical zig-zag pattern.

“Zipper?” Bucky calls out.

Steve shakes his head.

“Uh, zigzags?” Angie tilts her head like a puppy.

Steve swipes his hand over his face, a thinking sort of gesture, and then makes sure he’s positioned fairly behind the table before he starts to walk forward, getting lower to the ground with each step.

“You’re a mime?” Nataska asks.

“Nah, he’s obviously climbing stairs!” says Sam. “It’s stairs, huh Steve?”

“Yes!” Steve shouts, relieved. “That’s what these were.” He repeats the drawing motion, slower this time.

“It’s not Pictionary,” Sharon giggles.

Bucky grins and says, “Well, he _is_ an artist. That’s his comfort zone.”

Steve flops back down on the sofa, reaching for his wineglass and finding it recently refilled. “We’ve all got those, I guess,” he says.

“Well, that was fun!” Angie chirps. “Now, I wanna open presents!”

“Of course, darling,” Peggy murmurs. “Shall I go get?”

Shaking his head, Bucky stands up. “You’re comfortable, let me do the honors.”

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman? Our Sharon’s a lucky girl,” says Angie.

Sharon grins, turning to hide her face against Natasha’s shoulder. “I’m taking that as a compliment and not getting too embarrassed by it,” she mutters.

“Oh, honey, you should.”

Bucky returns holding the bag with the present that Steve picked out (which also has a card signed by the rest of them), Sharon’s present, a mysterious package that’s still in its bubble envelope, and Peggy’s present. He sets them on the coffee table and grins sheepishly. “Here. Uh, the one in the big bag is from all of us, sorta.”

“Aw, gosh, thanks!” Angie puts her hand over her heart. “You’re all sweet.” She picks up the bag and pulls out the card in question. It’s the least sappy card Steve could find, because he knew Natasha and Bucky would never sign it if it was cloying.

Angie reads the card, smiles warmly, and then tears into the bag. “Oh, it’s lovely!” It’s a dark blue sweater covered in rhinestones, which somehow manages to look classy and not childish.

“It seemed like the sort of thing I remembered you liking,” Steve says politely. He doesn’t mention the employee discount, because that goes without saying.

“I do! It’s so pretty!” Unfolding it, Angie slips it on over her blouse, looking pleased. “Thank you. You’re sweet, to buy an old lady you knew years ago a birthday present.”

“You aren’t old!” Steve exclaims. “You’re barely older than I am.” Or anyway, she’d been new to teaching when he was in his last years of high school, so it doesn’t seem like _much_ of a difference now.

Giggling, Angie replies, “You’re a real nice boy, Steve. And so are the rest of you.” Then she reaches for the other bag, the one from Sharon.

“It sort of seemed like it might be your style,” Sharon shrugs.

“Yes!” says Angie excitedly, holding up the intricately beaded vintage clutch inside the bag. “It kinda matches the sweater, actually.”

“I see what you meant about her liking shiny things,” remarks Natasha to Peggy, smirking.

“Isn’t it charming?” Peggy replies, kissing Angie on the cheek.

Angie preens a little. “Thanks, Peg.” She inspects the unlabeled package for a moment before slicing through the tape using a fingernail and her teeth. A slim rectangle and a note slides out. “Oh, it’s from Howard! I thought so.”

“Howard...Stark?” asks Sam.

“You know him?” Peggy asks, tilting her head.

Natasha laughs. “Oh, we’re all _aware_ of Howard Stark. Or rather, his son. He works at the mall along with the rest of us peons.”

“You hadn’t mentioned that, Sharon,” Peggy says.

“I didn’t think it was that important,” Sharon shrugs.

“Oh yeah, Howard’s been on the school board for years. He went there, I guess, and it’s not really a great school overall but I guess he enjoyed himself. So he dumps a bunch of money into it every year and shows up for about two out of every ten meetings, and he’s hit on pretty much every one of the staff who isn’t ancient.” Angie rolls her eyes. “But he and Peg got to be pals, and he’s pretty fond of me too. Or at least, Peg’s muscled him into sending me really nice presents every year.” She grins and pulls off the wrapping paper, to reveal a Stark tablet that’s a full version ahead of the one that’s currently available. “Damn, he knows how to butter up a girl.”

“Goes to show that my muscling skills are intact,” Peggy declares smugly.

“‘Course they are,” says Angie fondly.

Sam’s eyeing the tablet. “I see Tony inherited the whole ‘I’m gonna buy my friends’ thing from his dad.”

“Oh, he’s really fairly harmless,” Peggy says with a shrug. “Most of the time.”

Bucky tilts his head. “If you say so.”

Angie picks up the last present, Peggy’s, and teases, “Gee, English, I can tell this is a ring box. I’m guessing this isn’t a proposal?”

“I think we both know that anything that personal wouldn’t have an audience, no matter how small,” Peggy says. “It was just something I thought you might like.”

“Well, like I keep saying, I’m your girl no matter what,” replies Angie as she pulls out the ring box and opens it. “Oh, _Peg,_ ” she murmurs, sounding awed.

“I thought it matches your eyes,” Peggy explains.

Angie pulls it out and settles it onto her left index finger. It’s a heart-shaped aquamarine stone, with several sets of tiny diamond leaves on either side. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She twists around to kiss Peggy on the lips before leaning forward again to show off the ring to the others.

Natasha, of course, had seen it when Peggy picked it out, but she obligingly smiles. It’s not at all something that would appeal to her, but clearly it makes Angie happy.

“It’s very glamorous,” Sharon says with a nod.

“Yeah, it suits you,” adds Sam.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Angie turns around for another kiss.

Peggy hums happily, letting an arm slip around Angie’s waist.

“Ew, kissing,” Sharon comments helpfully.

“Hey, that’s my line,” protests Natasha without venom. She leans over to kiss Sharon’s cheek.

“You’re a big girl, you can handle seeing your aunts kiss,” teases Angie.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to joke about it anyway,” Sharon declares.

“Should we leave you two to it?” Sam chimes in, grinning.

Angie giggles. “It’s been real nice having you, but I do kinda want my _other_ present, if y’know what I mean.”

“Let’s get going!” Steve exclaims, jumping off the couch and offering either of his hands for a tug up. “Thank you so much for having us. Wonderful party.”

Angie manages to tear herself away from Peggy long enough to say, “It was nice meeting you all. Don’t be strangers, now!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angie's [ring](http://www.kay.com/en/kaystore/diamonds---gemstones/aquamarine-heart-ring-1-20-ct-tw-diamonds-sterling-silver/100020/100020.100022.100032), the [clutch](https://www.etsy.com/listing/192141895/1960s-vintage-beaded-purseclutch?ref=sr_gallery_32&ga_search_query=purse&ga_vintage_rewrite=vintage+purse&ga_original_query=2&ga_order=price_asc&ga_page=8&ga_color=a60cf3&ga_search_type=vintage&ga_view_type=gallery), and the [sweater](http://www.gap.com/browse/product.do?cid=1022543&vid=1&pid=139824002).


	33. it doesn't seem to strike as far below the surface so

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's parents are out of town and ask her to house-sit; as Darcy is wont to do, she has an accidental sleepover.

Laura rings the doorbell promptly at 7:30.

Darcy’s all dolled up, wearing her very best the-parents-are-away party dress and no shoes at all because it’s her (parents’) damn house, she doesn’t need shoes, but when she said 7:30 she didn’t plan on anyone arriving at 7:30, so she has to pause in the middle of applying lipstick to scurry downstairs.

Well, it makes sense that it’s Laura here so early, anyway.

She grins and grabs a few of the cheap plastic necklaces from the entry-hall table to throw around Laura’s neck. “Glad you made it!” she says cheerfully.

Laura blinks in confusion. “What are these for? It is not my birthday.”

“They’re Mardi Gras beads!” Darcy grins, as if this explains anything (which it doesn’t, since Mardi Gras was almost a month ago).

“Oh. But Mardi Gras has passed already. Have you gotten the days confused?”

Darcy shrugs. “I know it was earlier,” she says. “But I had extra beads, and it makes things more festive and fun!”

Laura nods. “All right.” She glances inside. “Where should I sit? I have brought alcohol, as I hear it is customary to do for one’s host.” She holds up a bottle of cheap tequila. “Logan said this one will ‘do it pretty good.’”

Darcy raises an eyebrow. “I both do and don’t wanna know,” she muses. “Come on, we’ll put this in the kitchen and then, uh…” She looks around. “Well, you’re the first one here, so you can sit anywhere in here.”

Following her, Laura settles into the couch and glances around the room slowly, as if studying it. She doesn’t say anything.

“So, uh, you… heard from anyone else about when they’re gonna be getting here?” Darcy asks.

“I believe MJ and Rogue are coming together, as are Nebula and Carina. I don’t know about anyone else,” replies Laura. “Are you and Rogue having sex?”

Darcy’s eyes go wide. “We’re, uh. We’re not… _not_ having sex.” Normally she wouldn’t be shy about this sort of thing, but the abrupt question caught her off-guard.

“I just wondered. Rogue’s scent has changed lately. She seems more cheerful, and she has been skipping some rehearsals. I thought it might be because she was having sex with you.” Laura’s tone is neutral, albeit a bit curious. “So I thought I would ask. She is my friend, and I want her to be happy.”

The explanation is long enough that it gives Darcy a chance to recover herself, so she’s all winning smiles when she confirms, “She’s very happy. In my opinion.”

“All right. I’m glad to hear that,” replies Laura, trying a smile of her own. It looks vaguely out of place and uncomfortable and she quickly stops. “I understand that people sometimes tell the people their friends are dating that they will hurt them if their friend is hurt. Please consider this your warning.”

In spite of herself (well, Laura is unnerving), Darcy laughs. “Promise I understand,” she says.

Conveniently, the doorbell rings again, and Laura says, “I don’t think that’s Nebula and Carina, they like to kiss for a minimum of five minutes before they leave to go anywhere.”

“Good to know,” Darcy says. “I’m gonna go see who it is, then. Make yourself comfortable.” With that, she skips off in the direction of the door, and she’s completely unsurprised to see Hannah standing there holding a bag of chips in one hand and a case of… fruit-flavored water in the other.

“Hello,” Hannah chirps. “I wasn’t sure how many people were going to be here, so this isn’t probably enough for everyone, but I figured it would be right to bring something, anyway.”

“It’s totally appreciated,” Darcy promises. “C’mon, you can set that stuff down and get comfy.”

Laura watches them. “Hello,” she calls.

“Hi,” Hannah replies, trying to sound chipper despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows this person. “Are we, ah, the only ones here so far?”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll run and get it,” Darcy says, doing exactly that.

“We’re early,” Pepper says in greeting.

“No, technically you’re a few minutes late,” Darcy corrects. “And apparently, tonight is a kind of night where ‘late’ actually _does_ mean ‘after the time on the invitation.’”

Melinda smirks. “I see. Well, here we are.”

“Here you are,” Darcy agrees. “Come in. So far it’s a fairly unlikely bunch of buddies-to-be.”

“That sounds like you’re writing a children’s book,” Pepper muses.

“Just trust me,” Darcy deadpans, nodding them into the main room.

“Hello,” Hannah says with an eager smile.

Laura nods, her eyes passing over the newcomers. Melinda nods back, and Laura looks pleased.

“Drinks?” Darcy asks, her voice going high.

“Please,” Pepper says, sounding relieved by the mere notion.

Darcy nods gratefully. “Anyone else? And does it matter what the drink is?”

“Logan had me try every alcoholic beverage so that I would know what I like,” said Laura. “I like tequila. He says he knew I was his kid.”

“So, tequila for Laura,” Darcy says.

The doorbell rings again. And then again. And then three more times.

“I think that’s Nebula,” says Laura. “She likes things that make irritating sounds.”

“Makes sense,” Darcy says, because from what she’s figured out about Nebula that’s the case. “I’ll get the drinks in a sec, okay?” And she runs to the door, hoping somehow that the new guests will make this less awkward.

It’s, as predicted, Nebula, with her sister on one side and her girlfriend on the other; Gamora looks entirely over this whole thing already, Carina mostly just looks nervous.

“Your lipstick’s half-done,” says Nebula, by way of greeting.

Darcy immediately reaches up to touch her mouth, which is thoroughly ineffective. “Shit,” she says, pulling the lipstick out of her cleavage where she stashed it and quickly finishing the job. “Sorry. I got caught off-guard.”

“Let me guess,” Gamora chimes in. “Laura showed up precisely on time and you weren’t expecting it.”

“Is that a thing with her?” Darcy asks.

“She’s just trying to be polite,” Carina defends.

“Well, the instinct is appreciated,” Darcy says.

Nebula snorts. “Yeah, we all appreciate it.”

Darcy smirks. “Well, I was just getting drinks for people,” she says, waving them inside. “Should I add you to the request list?”

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever’s strongest.”

“So far, I’m guessing that’s Laura’s… uh, her dad’s cheap tequila,” Darcy shrugs.

Shrugging, Nebula replies, “Whatever.”

Then they hear loud talking from the other room, which is quickly getting faster and louder, and as they go to see what’s happening it turns out to be Laura and Melinda in the middle of a passionate argument. “How can you call the Colt Python a better gun than the M1 Garand? Don’t you know _anything_ about weapons history?” Melinda’s voice is louder than anyone has ever heard it get.

“The M1 Garand is impractical for civilian use!” retorts Laura. “Its purpose was fulfilled and it is now obsolete!”

“ _Obsolete!_ And I suppose the Python was discontinued because it was in such high demand?”

“Hi!” Carina exclaims, waving. “I brought cookies.” As punctuation, she holds up a bag full of grocery store sugar cookies, all of them frosted in perfectly _her_ Easter colors.

“Awesome,” Hannah says loudly, jumping up to inspect the choices. “You really can’t go wrong with cookies.”

Nebula bursts into loud laughter.

“Hey,” Darcy says, raising an eyebrow at Nebula. “Would you help me with drinks? Sooner poured, sooner everyone’s on their way.” That, and she’s not interested in finding out whether the other girl is going to explain her outburst.

“Sure.” Nebula’s still laughing as she follows Darcy into the kitchen.

Meanwhile the argument seems to have diffused into the irritated glaring phase, where Laura and Melinda seem unable to break stony eye contact.

“Do you know how to diffuse that?” Darcy asks in a whisper as she reaches for the plastic cups.

“Nah. I think they’re fighting about guns or some shit? I’ve learned you kinda just have to let Laura be weird. I guess she found someone whose weirdness was the kind that set her off.”

‘Yeah, okay, but the fact that Laura managed to set Melinda off in return is stunning,” Darcy murmurs. Honestly, she’s almost in awe.

“I didn’t know she’s a gun nerd too. I guess you learn something new every day.” Nebula shrugs again.

At the sound of the doorbell, Darcy shouts, “If it’s open, just come in!” She’s in the middle of making some weird strawberry kiwi water/vodka combination, and she’d rather not move until she’s got it perfect.

“Hey!” calls MJ. “We stopped to grab some beer on the way.”

“Hey there,” purrs Rogue, poking her head into the kitchen. “Nice to see ya again.”

Darcy lowers her gaze just to look up again from under her eyelashes. “You, too,” she says with a coy little smile.

Coming up behind Rogue, MJ notices the charge in the air and rolls her eyes playfully. “Anywhere you’d like these?” she asks, indicating the six-packs she’s carrying.

“Preferably divided up and in people’s hands,” Darcy declares.

MJ chuckles. “All right, I’ll go ask around. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

“How broad a category is that?” Darcy asks.

“Well, we can’t get it on where people can see,” says Rogue with a smirk. “Not that that was part of my plan anyway.”

“We should save some fun for later in the night,” Darcy agrees. She picks up some of the drinks and nods for the others to help.

Out in the living room, Jemma, Skye, Natasha, and Sharon have all let themselves in and sat down wherever they can. The mood between Laura and Melinda is still frosty, but they’ve each become preoccupied talking to other people. Skye’s holding one of MJ’s beers and looking quite content perched on Jemma’s lap.

Darcy raises an eyebrow at the newcomers’ disheveled appearances. “Okay, did someone forget to invite me to the orgy _again_?”

“If you wanna be invited to an orgy, I could talk to the boys,” Natasha says with a smirk.

“I’ll get back to you,” Darcy squeaks, really hoping that people stop surprising her at her own damn party.

Akela, who’s just entered the room as well, notices that more than half of the occupants are holding drinks and says, “Oh, I see I’ve come right on time.”

“Take your pick, there’s beer and tequila and vodka and a whole fridge full of stuff to mix with,” Darcy says.

“Excellent.” Akela smiles and heads in the direction of the kitchen.

Melinda glances up and notices Maya entering the room. “Maya, please explain to that child that the Colt Python is a joke of a gun.” She nods at Laura.

Maya winces, looking down at her phone and then back up at Melinda. “I, uh, give me a second,” she says, quickly firing off a text message. “I can’t exactly speak to that without evidence.”

“Fine.” Melinda takes a sip of her drink. “Tell Maria hi from me.”

“I’ll, ah, I’ll do that,” Maya says, because she knows there’s no point in lying about what she’s doing. Not to Melinda.

“What’s Maria doing tonight?” Pepper asks, smiling in what Maya is sure is a knowing way (although she couldn’t say exactly why).

“Oh, she’s on a blind date,” Maya says. “Sitwell set her up with his neighbor. It’s not going so hot, apparently.”

“I’m sure,” Pepper muses, taking a sip of her drink.

Melinda smirks and says nothing.

After Sif wanders in, Darcy calls out, “You guys want drinks?”

“Yes, please,” Maya mumbles, her attention already back on her phone.

Sif nods, grinning. “Something strong for me.”

Darcy chuckles. “Sure thing,” she says, heading back into the kitchen. “Is everyone here?”

“If I’m the last person who needed to arrive, then yes,” Bobbi calls as she enters, twirling the lanyard on her keys.

Darcy glances around the room, nodding for Skye to double-check and then nodding in return when she has confirmation. “Apparently it’s not a party without you,” Darcy says to Bobbi, smirking.

“So, what’s the plan for the evening?” Hannah asks from the couch.

“Booze?” Skye asks.

“Booze,” Darcy confirms.

“Sounds perfect,” Bobbi declares.

 

* * *

 

“We should play Never Have I Ever!” says Sif, a little too loudly.

“I think I’m missing something,” Carina murmurs, frowning apologetically at… anyone, really.

“It’s only the best game,” Darcy exclaims, flopping on the floor by Carina and Nebula’s feet and leaning back against their legs. “Everyone gets a shot glass, right. Someone says something, like something they haven’t done, and then everyone who’s done it takes a shot. If nobody takes a shot, the person who says it has to.” She grins. “The soberest one wins.” She leaves to get glasses.

“And there needs to be a sober person chaperoning, too,” Pepper chimes in. “I’ll volunteer.”

“Let’s team up,” Maya says. “This is a wild bunch. They’re going to need it.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended,” Darcy deadpans, returning with shotglasses and beginning to distribute and fill them.

Sif grins. “Who’s starting?”

In the quiet moment after she asks, Nebula calls out “Hannah” with the expression of someone who enjoys embarrassing others.

Hannah smiles weakly, pretty sure she understands that she’s being baited. Once she’s exchanged a slightly alarmed look with Carina and noticed Carina whispering admonitions in Nebula’s ear, she says, “Well, ah, never have I ever… seen a penis?”

Everyone in the room takes a shot. “It wasn’t on purpose,” Jemma mutters, looking disgusted. “It really, really wasn’t on purpose.”

“How does one see a penis not on purpose?” asks Laura, tilting her head. “I assumed you have had sex with a man as well as your current partner.”

“Everyone assumes that,” Jemma sighs. “I’ve done… _things_ with men. Boys, really. Not penis things.”

“Oh.:” Laura nods. ‘That is understandable. The male anatomy is rather unappealing.”

“If it’s attached to someone you think you like, you can deal with it,” Bobbi chimes in, sighing. “But it’s not exactly a visual treat.”

Skye snorts. “Yup. Okay, I’m going next. Never have I ever had a threesome...yet.” She grins mischievously.

Jemma appears to choke on air, then repeats that when she notices exactly who’s taking a shot this time: Gamora, Maya, Melinda, and, most interestingly, Bobbi. Who notices her noticing and smirks.

“I’ll go,” says Laura. “Never have I ever been responsible for the care of a domestic animal.”

There are sympathetic noises from about half of the room. “Oh no!” Hannah murmurs.

She, Jemma, Sharon, Akela, Pepper, Carina, Sif, and Bobbi all take shots. “Does it count if you’ve watched your boyfriend’s giant dogs?” asks Natasha.

“If you’d like it to,” replies Laura.

Melinda announces, “I think this is officially a sleepover. Everyone is drunk.”

Darcy glances around. “Well, if Cool Mom says so, I guess that means we have to. Pillows and blankets and stuff are in the hall closet. I’ll drag them out when people want them.”

“We should make a pillow fort!” exclaims Skye.

“Cute,” says Bobbi. “My turn. Never have I ever been to church.” Since they’re now going in a non-sexual direction.

Hannah, Skye, Akela, Jemma, and Sharon take shots, which prompts Darcy to look at all of them but Hannah wonderingly. “Really?” she asks.

“Christmas Eve family appearances,” Sharon shrugs.

“Misguided elementary school sleepovers,” Jemma explains.

“I went to Catholic school. For like a year. And then I left,” says Skye.

“My grandparents are very religious.” Akela seems unfazed by having to give this explanation.

“Well, on the opposite end of things,” says Gamora, “never have I ever had anything but my ears pierced.” She then leans back in her chair and revels in everyone’s obvious confusion.

Nebula glares and downs a shot. “I know you did that for me.”

“Hazard of the game,” Carina says blithely, taking her own shot.

After taking her shot, Sif explains, “Fandral lost a bet a long time ago. We have matching nipple piercings.”

Darcy bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her own shot.

Rogue smiles, drinking. “Y’all can see mine,” she says, pointing at the stud in her nose.

Bobbi and Melinda both take their shots without saying anything, while smiling.

 

* * *

 

Never Have I Ever fades out as more and more of them start just taking spontaneous shots, and after Pepper gracefully bows out of the party (making sure Melinda is fine catching another ride home, and smiling when Sif offers to help out) and Maya exits as well (explaining that she needs to go rescue Maria from her apparent failure of a date, which makes at least half of the room snicker) the room all but falls into lazy chaos. There’s drinking, there’s chatter, there’s all manner of mayhem, and after maybe an hour of this, Darcy (currently seated in Rogue’s lap) calls out, “Let’s play Truth or Dare.”

“Must we?” Jemma groans, her voice slightly muffled due to the fact that her face is buried in Skye’s chest.

“Yes!” says MJ, grinning as she takes a sip of her third drink of the night. “Great plan, Darce.”

Darcy grins. “I think so,” she declares, turning around at an awkward angle to face Rogue. “ _You_ , I dare you to take your shirt off.”

“Alright,” drawls Rogue, pulling her shirt off in a way not unlike a striptease. Then she smirks and asks, “Like what ya see?”

“Always,” Darcy says, clearly delighted. “Your turn to ask someone.”

“Sure.” Rogue scans the room for a minute, her gaze finally landing on Carina, who’s resting her head on Nebula’s shoulder and nibbling on a cookie. “Hey, Car, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Carina says immediately.

“What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said?”

“That I would rather fucking die slowly than have to spend any more fucking time looking at someone’s fucking face or hearing them say any more of their fucking bullshit,” Carina murmurs, sounding oddly calm for someone who’s just dropped that many expletives in one sentence. She shrugs and reaches for her glass (filled this time with water).

A bit taken aback, Rogue just says “Oh” while nodding slowly, looking as if she’s making connections in her head.

“My turn!” Carina exclaims cheerfully. She glances around for a moment and likely emboldened by the alcohol says, “Melinda, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” says Melinda without batting an eye.

Carina makes a face, and she’s very clearly about to turn to Nebula for suggestions before she thinks better of it. “Okay,” she says warily. “Uh. I dare you to… sing something.”

“Somewhere over the rainbow,” sings Melinda, vaguely off-key, and then stops. Carina looks confused, and Melinda adds, “You didn’t say how much,” with a smirk.

“That’s true,” Carina squeaks. “It’s your turn now.”

“Okay.” Melinda turns to Natasha. “You said the boys are at Sam’s tonight?”

Natasha nods.

“Dare you to sneak in and bring something back.” Then, Melinda adds, “You’re not allowed to distract them in any way,” looking pointedly at Sharon.

“What makes you think I would do that?” Sharon says indignantly.

Squeezing her hand, Natasha grins. “I’ll see you later,” she says to the room at large, and heads for the door.

Jemma sits up straight, looking alarmed. “I know they’re… whatever they are,” she whispers to Skye, “but isn’t that horribly illegal?”

“I doubt they’d call the cops on their own girlfriend,” giggles Skye.

“Still!” Jemma hisses, then raising her voice and calling out, “I’ll go next. Akela! Akela, truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Akela seems surprised but pleased to be asked.

“How.... many people have you kissed?” Jemma asks, clearly under the impression that she’s being scandalous enough to keep up (or maybe just optimistic, or maybe just too far gone with drink to hear Nebula chuckling at her).

Akela smiles, taking a minute to think. “Ten, I think. Yes, ten.”

“That’s a very nice, even number,” Jemma agrees solemnly.

“Skye, truth or dare?” calls Akela.

“Dare!” Skye says eagerly.

“I dare you to...take off your clothes and run down the street and back in your underwear.”

Jemma yelps.

Skye, who started shucking off her shirt immediately after Akela said “take off your clothes,” stands up and shimmies out of her jeans before chirping, “Back in a sec! Darce, come out and film this shit!”

“Hell yes,” Darcy says, sounding slightly in awe.

“Need a cheerleader?” Bobbi asks in a low, obviously seductive voice.

Jemma yelps again.

“If you wanna,” Skye replies suggestively, heading for the door.

Darcy hoots, scrambles for her phone, and then turns back to kiss Rogue on the cheek before following Skye; Bobbi pushes out of the beanbag chair she’s currently flopped in and strides after them, beer in hand.

As they’re heading for the door, Sif takes the opportunity to slip out of the room, in the hopes of avoiding uncomfortable questions (she has a bad feeling that someone would insist on “truth”ing her). She crawls into the pillow fort Skye and a few others built earlier, and settles in. She expects that no one will follow her, but after a moment someone calls, “Sif?” It’s Melinda.

“Oh, hi,” says Sif, awkwardly. “I, uh...I needed some air?”

“I know the feeling,” says Melinda dryly. “Mind if I join you?”

“No...no, that’s fine.” Sif knows it’s partially the alcohol, but she feels like Melinda can hear how loudly her heart is pounding too. Melinda comes in, sitting crosslegged next to her (it’s at a spot where Sif, who’s lying on her back, can see her face).

Suddenly the situation strikes Sif as absurd, and she giggles. Melinda doesn’t react except for a small smile, but she doesn’t seem to mind either.

“The last time I was in one of these was with Lorelei,” says Sif, an old memory suddenly coming back to her.

“Oh?” The way Melinda says it, she’s interested but won’t push Sif for more if it’s not immediately forthcoming.

“Yes, we...well, we knew each other in college and we ended up in a play together. _Twelfth Night,_ you know. She would hit on me every day in rehearsal to intimidate me, and the director would yell at her for it. One day I got tired of it, and grabbed her and kissed her to try and shut her up.” Sif snickers. “Didn’t work, but. We were both at a party a few weeks later and ended up making out in a pillow fort. I don’t remember why. I know she’s embarrassed about it still.”

Melinda chuckles. “Follies of youth.” She’s quiet for a moment before adding, “When I was in college, Heimdall and I hooked up several times.”

“What! _No,_ ” gasps Sif, drawing the word out in a silly way that she wouldn’t if she weren’t drunk.

“Yes. We were both unattached, we were friends, it was nice.”

“I’ve just...known him for years, I never would’ve guessed. And I definitely didn’t, ah...know that about you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” replies Melinda, and if Sif didn’t know better, she’d swear Melinda was flirting with her.

 

* * *

 

They spend a long time in the pillow fort, mostly in companionable silence, sometimes talking quietly, often just listening to the drunken shenanigans in the other room. At some point someone must have suggested karaoke, because they definitely hear Bobbi doing a startlingly good impression of Britney Spears. The cheers after that are particularly loud.

Eventually, though, it dies down, and Melinda says, “I guess we’d better go make sure they’re all still alive.”

Sif giggles. “Yes.”

The others appear to be in various states of drunken napping and snuggling: Nebula and Carina, Rogue and Darcy, Sharon and Natasha (who seems to have returned triumphant, given the pair of American flag-patterned boxers she’s wearing on her head), and Skye and Jemma, who are curled up like quotation marks with their heads on Bobbi’s tummy. Laura and Akela have commandeered the bigger couch; MJ has the smaller one; Hannah is holding a pillow and is curled up on the largest, most comfortable chair, and Gamora is sharing a body pillow with Bobbi. “Precious,” says Melinda in the most deadpan voice. Sif has to slap a hand over her face to avoid laughing loud enough to wake everyone up.

Over in one corner of the room is a stack of blankets which everyone seems to have ignored. Melinda nods at them and Sif, understanding, grabs a few and begins to distribute them accordingly. Finally everyone seems to be covered. “There, I’ve done my grown-up duty for the night,” jokes Melinda. “Back to the fort?” Sif nods and follows her, grabbing the last blanket for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any mistakes in the gun argument; we are not actually gun enthusiasts and did minimal research.
> 
> If you think you're seeing something, you're seeing it.
> 
> Also, Sif and Lorelei is a topic that is extrapolated on [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3579159/chapters/7889628).


	34. let me paint a picture for you then I'll have to teach you to see it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raina shows off her new tattoo and Lorelei takes her and her... friends out to lunch, and Loki has a rude awakening.

“Let me see it,” Lorelei calls as she strides into the weed store.

When Raina pokes her head up from behind the counter (she’s fixing the display of “decorative glassware” kept locked away under there) she starts laughing.

“What?” Lorelei asks peevishly.

“Your face,” Raina giggles. “You look so…” She trails off, thinking about it. “Disdainful. Like a queen out among the commoners.”

“This place stinks,” Lorelei huffs. “And what’s more, it feels so _dirty_ , like there’s a layer of ash covering everything.” She accidentally brushes a rack of vaguely poncholike sweaters and shudders.

“You’re cute when you’re priggish,” Raina singsongs.

Lorelei rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Come on,” she goads, “show off for me.”

Raina very dramatically stands up straight, then lays her hand out flat on the countertop. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice lower and sexier than most people’s would be when discussing body art.

“I don’t know why I was wondering if it was going to be anything but a flower,” Lorelei says dryly.

Raina giggles in that unnerving way of hers. “But do you like it?”

Lorelei isn’t big on tattoos most of the time. There are nice ones, but so often the ones she sees are moronic impulse decisions (she’s talked more than one guy out of getting her name scribbled on him in some pseudo-vintage font, bannered over a heart or something equally trite, probably because of the college boyfriend she had that actually did that) that she’s sort of soured to the whole premise. Besides that, she doesn’t feel comfortable committing to one person for that long, and people, unlike art on someone’s skin, actually change.

Most of the time, Lorelei doesn’t actually give a shit about flowers either. Probably so many guys have thrown them at her feet that she’s gotten bored of them. Plus, while their lifespan is actually a pretty accurate metaphor for most of her relationships, the fact that they get old and die so quickly means that they’ve always struck her as a misguided symbol for true romance.

But there’s something at once innocent and imaginative about Raina’s little obsession with them. The only time that Lorelei’s seen her not wearing something floral is when she’s not wearing anything at all (even that apparently won’t be true now); her purse has a giant fake lily wrapped around the strap and there’s a matching one around the top of the rearview mirror in her car; hell, there’s even a little row of origami flowers, taped to the top of the cash register. But never once has Lorelei seen her so much as in the same room as a real flower that’s been cut. It’s like she likes them so much that she can’t bear to kill them.

Or she just doesn’t want to take care of the real ones, either way.

And now she’s got one with her for as long as she wants it. It’s on her left hand, over the joint of her thumb, a red rose with a stem (thorns and all) wrapped around her wrist. (Her fingernails, long and deadly and very false, are currently painted a green-black color to match.) On another woman, it would be a cliché, but on Raina?

“It’s perfect,” Lorelei murmurs, only sort of surprised to find she means it.

“I’m glad you like,” Raina purrs.

“Does my opinion really matter?” Lorelei asks.

Oblivious to the potential customer who’s just wandered in (or maybe just ambivalent toward her) Raina drawls, “I figure my hand spends enough time inside you, you should approve of its new decoration.”

The customer (a slight blonde) coughs loudly.

“You know it won’t be getting anywhere near me with those nails on,” Lorelei counters.

“I’ll take them off before I try to pay tribute, o my goddess,” Raina murmurs, smirking.

Lorelei can’t help but preen, though in her usual overly self-aware sort of way. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Was seeing this really your only reason for deigning to set foot in the slacker corner?” Raina asks, clearly not bothered by whatever the response may be.

Lorelei shakes her head. “I’m getting bored of training boys,” she sighs dramatically.

“Had your fill of the marble-jawed Nazi?” Raina teases.

“God, yes,” Lorelei groans. “I like my subs a little mouthy, not all…” She makes a face. “All _compliant_.”

Raina grins. “You mean you like them like me.”

“Well, it gets boring if it’s not at least a little bit of a challenge,” Lorelei shrugs. “At least the vanilla lollipop was more of a Shepherd than a lapdog. And the warning label his pretty ex fitted him with was accurate.”

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” Raina pouts.

“That’s the whole point, I’m not,” Lorelei retorts, standing aside so Raina can ring the girl up but not pausing the conversation. “I was wondering if that offer you made is still open. It’d be a way to cut up the routine.”

“ _Lorelei_!” Raina exclaims, feigning shock. “What will people think, hearing you care enough not to presume.”

“I think my secret’s safe,” Lorelei says, turning to glare at the girl. “Doesn’t answer me, though.”

Raina finishes the transaction and sends the customer on her way before she says, “Of course it is. It’s about to turn spring, isn’t it? Let’s enjoy nature’s gifts out in the wild.”

Lorelei smirks. “How inventively pagan,” she muses. “I’d forgotten ideas like that existed.” She glances toward the back room. “Someone going to cover for you while you take lunch?”

Raina nods. This hadn’t been planned, but she gets what’s being suggested and she’s very amenable.

“Excellent,” Lorelei hums, holding out a hand. “Shall we, then?”

 

* * *

 

“Seriously, free food?” Nebula eyes the plate of beer pretzels like she’s expecting it to disappear at any second.

Lorelei nods, then looks up to flash a brilliant smile in the direction of the bar. “I have a hookup,” she says, because that’s true in multiple ways.

“Okay. Cool.” Nebula shrugs and grabs one of them, tearing a huge chunk off with her teeth.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Carina says very politely, sipping her raspberry lemonade.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Lorelei says dismissively. “No use keeping my good fortune to myself. Eating out alone is so depressing.”

Raina, to her credit, snickers. Nebula snorts too, grinning wickedly when she notices the expression on Loki’s face, who’s sitting across the table from her. He looks like a cat that’s just had a bucket of water dumped over it.

“Besides, consider it a thank-you on my part,” Raina says to Nebula.

“I didn’t draw the tattoo, I dunno why you’re thanking me.”

Raina smiles winningly. “For the friendship that got me the discount, silly.”

“Oh. Well, uh, you’re welcome.” Nebula shoves more of the pretzel in her mouth and deliberately doesn’t make eye contact with Raina.

Raina is not such a good friend that she doesn’t slightly revel in this discomfort, but there’s not much else to say on the subject, so she turns her attention to Loki. “You’re not eating anything.”

“I’m not hungry.” He sounds not unlike a sullen child.

“You’ve been at work all morning and you’re there through most of the afternoon,” Carina says. “You should try to eat something even if you don’t feel like you want to.”

Primly, Loki reaches over and rips off the end of a pretzel and puts it in his mouth. He manages, somehow, to chew petulantly. “There, I’ve eaten something,” he says, once he’s swallowed it.

Carina frowns. “I just meant you ought to take care of yourself,” she mumbles.

“He’s a big boy, he can manage,” says Nebula, but it’s more gently than she’d say that sort of thing to anyone else, and she squeezes Carina’s hand.

As Carina smiles one of her little all-too-sweet smiles, Lorelei and Raina just grin at each other. This may or may not be what real people act like, and because they can stand the real people in question it’s charming rather than cloying. “She’d punch me for calling her cute, wouldn’t she,” Lorelei murmurs.

“Oh, definitely,” Raina agrees.

“I’m sorry to interrupt these scintillating conversations,” chimes in Loki, “but just why am I here again? Truth be told, I’m feeling a bit fifth-wheel.”

The real answer is that it would have seemed rude not to invite him (since Lorelei gave Raina the go-ahead to invite Nebula, who invited Carina) and while Lorelei pays very little mind to people’s feelings a lot of the time she isn’t often _rude_ without reason. Callous, sarcastic, sure. But rudeness is so unbecoming.

“I thought it would do you good to get out and do things,” Lorelei says airily, because that’s technically also true. She agrees with the boy about a lot of things, but also is fairly sure he’d be better-served by at least attempting to crawl out of his self-imposed isolation occasionally.

Loki snorts. “Fine. Thank you, I suppose.”

Meanwhile, Nebula’s gotten bored and started glancing around. She notices the bartender watching them, his expression sour. “Hey, what’s up with pissface over there?”

“That’s the hookup,” Raina whispers conspiratorially. “I think he’s sad that he’s treating her and her friends to free lunch and he hasn’t even gotten a kiss hello.”

“We’ll see,” Lorelei says, waving a hand dismissively. “There might be a kiss goodbye in the deal if I’m feeling interested.”

“ _Him?_ ” Nebula wrinkles her nose. “Does he look better with the lights off or something?”

“He had a few… recommended traits,” Lorelei shrugs, neglecting to mention that the recommendations came after her decision to give it a try. “Mostly he’s just very normal.”

Loki makes a sound of disgust. “He’s unworthy of you.”

From most people, a comment like that would make Lorelei snap and argue, because who the fuck are they to decide that (even if it’s technically probably true). From Loki, it mostly comes off harmless and amusing, and she has to ask, “From where exactly do you draw that conclusion, dear?” She knows pet names can piss him off. That’s the on-purpose kind of rude.

“Well,” he says, deliberately ignoring the endearment, “you deserve to be worshipped. That fellow looks like he’s never given a single thought to how a woman ought to be treated.”

“He’s right about one thing,” Raina murmurs, nudging Lorelei’s side.

“Worshipped, hm?” Lorelei presses.

“Should we be listening to this?” Carina whispers to Nebula.

“People who fuck are weird,” says Nebula by way of reply.

Carina makes a face, like she’s glad of an easy explanation.

Loki nods. “You should be waited on hand and foot, not merely seen as a means to sexual gratification. Why, if I were so lucky, I would…” He stops suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “I confess, I’m more than a little perplexed as to why you haven’t taken me up on that offer yet.”

“Shit,” Carina squeaks.

“You mean why I haven’t invited you to fuck me,” Lorelei clarifies, being as blunt as she can to get a rise out of him.

“I wasn’t going to be so crude about it, but yes. I don’t understand why you’re making do with second-rate temporary men when you could have...well, someone who would appreciate you as you deserve.”

Raina bursts out laughing.

“Kid, I can take care of myself just fine,” Lorelei says, trying to resist the urge to point out that everything he’s suggesting _is_ being taken care of, one way or another (and one of those ways is sitting right next to her).

“But you shouldn’t have to!” protests Loki.

Sipping noisily on her milkshake, Raina gazes up at him and gives a curt wave.

“You know how I do things,” Lorelei shrugs. “I’m pretty sure that’s half of why you sought me out in the first place, wasn’t it?’

“You can’t blame me for finding you intriguing.” Loki purses his lips. “How was I to resist such a divine creature as yourself?”

“I thought the whole thing was you guys were going to wreak social havoc, part of which you were going to do by doing what you always do,” Raina interjects, nodding to Lorelei.

“Yeah. He basically asked me to,” Lorelei agrees. “Or more specifically, to build up to seducing a certain supremacist.” She rolls her eyes, then says to Loki, “By the way, not nearly as effective as you’d think. Although he did beg to, as you put it, wait on me.”

Loki scowls. “It’s more effective than an absurd pick-up line, anyway.”

Lorelei giggles, the sort of giggle that’s laced with danger. “So just so we’re clear, you expected there to be sex eventually.”

“Oh, I expected nothing,” says Loki with a shrug. “I merely wanted to interact with you however I could. The idea of becoming your paramour was an appealing one, but I was content to bask in your presence.”

“Go easy on the poor thing,” Raina coos in Lorelei’s ear.

“Well, I don’t know how sincere you’re being, but let me tell you one thing,” Lorelei says. “It’s a compliment that I _haven’t_ tried to sleep with you.”

Pouting, Loki mumbles, “It doesn’t feel much like one.”

“Think about it this way,” Carina chimes in before she can think any better of it. “She respects you too much to sleep with you!”

“And, I mean, I can’t really say I get it but just ‘cause she won’t fuck you doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you,” comments Nebula.

Lorelei nods, rather surprised that they seem to understand (but also not surprised at all).

“Well, I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand,” snarks Loki. “But no one understands me, it seems. Except you.” He makes what is probably supposed to be a puppy-dog face at Lorelei but mostly just comes off as the wrong kind of pathetic.

Lorelei sighs. “Sweetie, I think you think you mean what you’re saying, so I’m going to be nice about it. _If_ we fuck, it will not be because of some sad little ‘woe is me, I’m friendzoned’ routine. And if that day comes, you’ll understand me as well as I apparently do you.”

“Very well.” Loki edges his way out of the booth. “Noted. I think I’ll just show myself out.”

“Don’t trip on your way out the door,” Raina says cheerily.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he calls over his shoulder.

Carina frowns into her drink. This is not going to be a fun rest of the day. “Does he not know that you two,” she begins, waving a hand between Lorelei and Raina, “that you two are… doing… things… together?”

“He has to know _something’s_ up,” says Nebula, grinning, “but I think he thinks he can fix everything with his magic cock. Or her magic vagina, or something.”

“He’s a romantic,” Raina says with a roll of her eyes. It’s clear how she feels about those.

“Uh huh.” Nebula smirks and sips her drink. “Gotcha.”

“I expect he’ll come to his senses,” Lorelei says. “In due time. I haven’t succeeded in finding him more appropriate friends yet, so he’s likely to need me more than I do him.”

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” says Nebula.

“And honestly, it’s a relatively painless arrangement,” Lorelei continues.

“Tomorrow, this will be funny,” Raina agrees. “Maybe not to him, but I don’t think hardly anything is.” She looks to Carina for support in this.

“There was a top that said something about fractured motivation,” Carina offers. “He seemed to find that amusing.”

“Hardly anything,” Raina repeats.

Nebula snorts. “Well, he’ll probably find some anarchist to fuck in a couple months. Then everyone will be happy.”

“One way to look at it,” Raina says, nodding. She takes another sip of milkshake, then looks at Carina intently. “Have you taken advantage of the friends and family discount, too?”

Before Carina can answer, Nebula blurts, “Yeah, she has a butterfly on her ass like a goddamn My Little Pony. It’s hilarious.”

“Be nice,” Carina exclaims, though she’s turned bright red.

“That sounds cute,” Raina says, seeming happy about the idea or maybe just amused.

“Yeah, Sunbeam Berry here is adorable,” replies Nebula, giving her hand a squeeze. Her tone is almost sarcastic, but not quite.

“Oh, that’s just…” Raina giggles, nudges Lorelei. “Isn’t that charming?”

“It’s something, all right,” Lorelei says, managing a weak smile.

“I didn’t mean to make it a cutie mark,” Carina mutters.

“ _Cutie mark_ ,” Raina repeats. “You’re too much. How on earth did a nice girl like you get mixed up with a crowd like this?” She doesn’t really mean it, and she very pointedly includes herself in the crowd that’s being discussed, but it is something of a curiosity.

Nebula shrugs, not offended at all by the insinuation. “Therapy.”

“As good a way as any,” Raina says. “It’s probably better than meeting someone with a background just full of questionable actions at some strange underground party.”

“Something you know all about,” Lorelei hums, bumping Raina’s knee under the table. It’s very clearly not an insult.

“I doubt I’m the only one,” Raina replies. She hasn’t exactly gotten all of such details out of Lorelei, but she can presume, and given Lorelei’s little shrug she’s right to do so.

“Well,” Carina says loudly (or loudly for her, which is normal for most people), “I’m glad. It’s, ah, it’s not the most normal crowd but it suits me just fine.”

“I imagine it’s more interesting,” Lorelei says with a shrug.

Nebula nods. “Yeah, we’re all right.”

“They’re so stable,” Lorelei says to Raina. “Did you have any idea?”

“I expected,” Raina replies with one of her beatific smiles.

“Did you know we were going to be analyzed?” Carina asks Nebula.

“Nah, but I’m pretty much used to it.” Nebula smirks. “At least they’re being nice about it.”

“What else would we be?” Raina asks.

“Spewing diagnoses.” Rolling her eyes, Nebula starts ticking examples off on her fingers. “Pointing out root causes. Asking about what the fuck ever repressions. Holding up stupid little inkblots and asking what we see. Y’know, shrink stuff.”

Raina sighs like someone who understands this all too well, though it’s unclear whether it’s due to personal experience or hearsay or both (it could be any of that). “You’re safe,” she says.

“Her analysis is always more interesting,” Lorelei interjects. “Completely batshit sometimes, but less objectionable.”

“How generous,” Raina smirks.

“Well hey, I like interesting.” Nebula’s grinning.

“Exactly why I’ve decided to keep you, both of you, in the inner circle,” Raina proclaims. What inner circle exactly, she doesn’t specify, and maybe it doesn’t matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8dEAzDkf-yWaWx2emRwMEd2VFZ1SFZsQW9wTU16OVBqRjF3/view?usp=sharing) is a black-and-white picture I drew of what Raina's tattoo looks like, because it is disproportionately important to me.


	35. you are the air in my breath filling up my love soaked lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Maya have lunch together; various and sundry mall workers observe and comment.

Given that Maya had opening shift this morning, she’s actually getting her lunch hour at a fairly normal “lunchtime” (it cracks her up that in retail it’s still considered “lunch” even at seven-thirty at night). Maria takes her lunch whenever she pleases, and when Maya had stopped by to ask if she wanted to join her, she left with only a cursory nod towards Fury (who rolled his eye and didn’t say anything).

They’re at a table in the middle of the food court, Maya idly nibbling on a sandwich and Maria wolfing down three slices of mildly questionable pizza, and both giggling as Maria tells her about the idiot from the other day who tried to make off with an iPad by stuffing it under his shirt.

When Maria’s hand is flat on the table, Maya’s happens to be too, and as she’s giving some response she casually brushes their fingers together, shrugging amiably. Nothing strange about it.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, it’s nice that Maya’s got a friend,” says Tony as he dips a fry in ketchup. He nods to where Maya and Maria are sitting because Pepper has her back to them.

Pepper glances over her shoulder, though she’s positive she knows who he’s talking about. “Maya has more than one friend,” she points out instead of saying what she’s thinking.

“Well, I know, but I saw her dorm room a couple years back. I mean the lights didn’t stay on for long, but it didn’t look like someone who had friends.” Tony’s tone is casual; he doesn’t mean it in a mean way. “And I hear grad school doesn’t leave a lot of time for socializing.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “I get the feeling that you’re more open to sharing that information than she would be,” she mutters. “Besides, I think you’re forgetting that you’re _talking_ to one of Maya’s friends.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re friends with everyone.” Tony takes a bite of his overloaded burger and doesn’t quite finish chewing before he adds, “And you’re here with me. It’s nice to see her with, y’know, a gal pal.”

“Oh, they’re gal pals, all right,” Darcy murmurs dryly, walking by with a tray.

“I’m just saying,” Pepper continues, trying not to laugh, “I think I’m more aware of Maya’s current social life than you are.”

Shrugging, Tony concedes, “Fair point. Hey, do you know if she’s seeing anybody? He’s a lucky guy, if you know what I mean.” He doesn’t even let that sit for one minute before he adds, “I’m saying she’s good with her-”

“Tony, I am begging you to stop,” Pepper exclaims. “And if you would to refrain from ever going down that rabbit trail again.”

“That’s not an answer to my question. And you know how annoying I can be when people won’t answer my questions.”

“No,” Pepper says bluntly. “There’s no guy.”

“Hm. Well then, maybe I’ll stop by sometime and see if she wants a second round.”

“I think she’s old enough to know better,” Pepper retorts cheerfully.

Tony only looks wounded for a moment, and then shrugs again. “Potentially.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Gal pals_ ,” Darcy repeats in a low voice, clearly under the impression that it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Trip glances up from his sandwich, amused. “You talkin’ about Rizzoli and Isles over there?”

“Oh, you know I am,” Darcy chirps. “ _Somebody_ in this room is apparently even later to the party than the two of them.” She rolls her eyes in Tony’s direction.

Laughing, Trip replies, “Well, it’s Stark. He doesn’t seem to get that whole ‘sometimes other people might want to bone more than one gender too’ thing.”

“Especially when ladies are involved,” Darcy adds. “Because then that means they don’t want to bone _him_.”

“Oh yeah.” Nodding, Trip says, “So when do you think _they’re_ gonna figure it out? Should we set up a bet for that too?”

“Maybe,” Darcy says airily. “I think Jane’s scientific curiosity is rubbing off on me.”

“I mean, it kinda sucks for everybody who bet on Maria, but what are you gonna do.” Trip half-shrugs. “Shit happens.”

“Yeah, you can’t fight love,” Darcy agrees in a dramatic voice. “Or lust. Or whatever it is.”

Shaking his head, Trip replies, “I don’t think it’s lust. They wouldn’t be drawing it out this long if it was. Maria would’ve just taken her out already. Nah, this is something else.”

“You make it sound so epic,” Darcy comments.

“Aw, girl, I’m no poet,” says Trip, fake-modestly. “I just got a feeling, y’know?”

“Fair,” Darcy says. She glances at Maria and Maya, tilting her head. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

Trip thinks for a moment, then says, “Possibly how dumb people are? That seems like something they’d agree on.”

“And it’s such a broad category,” Darcy murmurs.

“Yeah, good point. I mean I’d imagine most of Maria’s annoyances are people who steal shit, but she’s probably seen her fair share of fuckery as a cop, too.” Trip pauses and then adds, “You’re a bad influence, y’know.”

“Oh, am I?” Darcy croons.

“I didn’t used to be such a nosy bastard,” he continues. “Kept to my own self. Now, you got me paying attention to everybody in this mall.”

“Doesn’t it make things more interesting, though?”

He grins. “No comment.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, _there’s_ Maya,” Jane exclaims, nodding across the food court. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of her for days.”

“She looks like she’s having a good time,” says Thor, smiling. “And I don’t think I’ve seen Maria laugh like that in a long while.”

“I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen Maya look that happy,” Jane muses. “At least not about people.”

Thor laughs. “I confess that I can be somewhat inept when noticing the relationships of others. Are they merely friends, or…?”

“It’s complicated, as silly as that sounds,” Jane says. “I don’t think they’re not _not_ merely friends, but they haven’t said anything official.”

“Ah.” Nodding, Thor replies, “Well, I hope they find happiness, however they may. They seem to be making each other happy.”

“I think they are, even if they haven’t quite realized it yet,” Jane decides.

“Though I am glad that our courtship was much less drawn out,” adds Thor with a playful grin.

Jane blushes. “Well, owning up to how I felt about you meant I could get to the fun part of actually knowing you faster,” she rationalizes.

“Yes. Though I would have waited for you, I’m glad I did not have to.” Thor leans down to kiss her cheek.

There was a time when shows of affection like this made Jane blush and feel almost embarrassed, if pleased. Now? Now she just revels in them. “You’re so sweet it shocks me sometimes,” she murmurs.

“You deserve that and more, my love,” replies Thor with a warm smile.

 

* * *

 

“Oh look,” says Heimdall casually, nodding in the direction of Maya and Maria.

“You know, I wouldn’t have put that together, but I think it makes sense,” Victoria agrees.

Heimdall nods again. “I thought for a while that Maria was pursuing Melinda, but now I see that her interests have shifted. I am not even sure she’s realized it as of yet.”

“She was, they have, and if the way they’re acting is any indication, they haven’t,” Victoria shrugs.

“Yes. They will figure it out sooner or later,” Heimdall says with a small smile. “In the meantime, I’m surprised you paid close enough attention to all of that. You’re not the sort for gossip or interpersonal drama.”

“One, I can actually stand Maya, which helps,” Victoria says, “and two, there’s a difference between pretending not to care and being completely ignorant to things.”

That makes Heimdall chuckle. “That is true.” He adds, “They look very comfortable together. They aren’t people to whom that comes easily.”

“No, they aren’t,” Victoria agrees. “When you do find that kind of person, _if_ you do, that’s not something you ought to take lightly.”

“Ah, I see. How is Isabelle?”

Victoria has to work not to chuckle. Of course he saw right through that observation. “She’s good,” she says. “Really good.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” replies Heimdall, with the sort of smile that says he knows that she knows what he’s up to. “You’ve been much happier since meeting her.”

“She…” Victoria trails off, acutely aware that they’re about to tiptoe into the territory of feelings that she rarely feels comfortable discussing. “She’s better for me than most people.”

“Good.” Heimdall nods briefly. “I’d like that for you.”

“I… thanks,” she mumbles, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“You’re deserving of it,” he says. “And you are my friend, so I’d like the best for you.”

Part of her surprise with this is that Heimdall is one of her only close friends, and even they rarely have conversations that get into this sort of territory, but part of it is that the way he phrases it hits her like a revelation (even if it’s really not). “I think she might be,” she replies.

He nods slowly, smiling in his mysterious way. “Very good.”


	36. you're making me feel the monsters aren't real, you're making me feel I'm not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team America takes Bucky's dogs to the dog park, where they have a nice afternoon and run into some friends.

“It’s kind of nice having someone else who’s shorter along for the fun,” teases Natasha as she walks on Sharon’s left side. Sam is on Sharon’s right, and ambling along in front of them are two Great Danes, one mottled grey and the other white with black patches. Their heads are at the same height as Sharon’s waist, and Natasha’s chest.

“I’m not that short,” Sharon retorts. “I’m only a couple inches shorter than the guys. Mostly.” She rolls her eyes back at Steve, who’s the outlier here.

“True.” Natasha grins. “You’re a bunch of giants. I suppose it’s only fitting that most of your dogs would be also giant, James.”

Bucky, who’s trying to nudge a smaller black dog with three legs along (she’s preoccupied with sniffing every inch of a particularly interesting bush), makes a mock-offended face. “You got a problem with my dogs?”

“No, I’m just saying that combined, they’re the size of a small country.”

“Callie isn’t quite as big,” Steve defends, nodding in said dog’s direction.

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, but ‘not as big’ is relative when you’re talking about these guys.” He gives Artemis, the grey Dane, a stroke down her haunches. “How’re you handling Apollo, Sharon?”

“I’m… managing,” Sharon says with a slight wince. “He’s not too bad, and he’s a cutie, which helps a lot.”

“Yeah. You basically just have to let Artemis steer for him, and hang on when he takes off.”

“That’s good,” Sharon agrees. “I mean, I’ve never really walked any dogs before, let alone a blind dog.” She tilts her head in contemplation. “Wait, what do you mean ‘takes off’?”

“He’s very...driven when he’s focused on something,” says Natasha cryptically.

“He’s a dog, not a supervillain,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Why are you being mysterious?”

“Because it’s funnier that way.”

“Says the one not currently walking any of the dogs,” Sharon retorts.

“I thought you should experience it for yourself.” Natasha’s smile is mischievous. “They’re not _that_ bad, honestly. Compared to how they were at the shelter, they’re perfect now.”

“You guys are great,” Sharon says immediately, turning to nod at Bucky. “You especially. There’s just so… much…” She trails off, trying to think of how to put it. “This is one of many things I respect about you all, I guess.”

Bucky ducks his head, smiling shyly. “They needed me, is all.”

“You’re amazing,” Steve whispers, nudging Bucky’s shoulder carefully.

“Hello! It is quite a coincidence, seeing you at this dog park!”

They look around for the source of the voice, and finally spot Drax coming towards them, waving and smiling. He has an Italian greyhound puppy scampering beside him, tail wagging. “This is Swift,” he says, leaning down to scratch her behind the ears. “I named her that because swift means fast, and she is fast. Though she is still growing.”

“Aw.” Sam, careful not to let go of Artemis’ leash, offers his hand for Swift to sniff. She does, then turns her attention to the Great Danes. It’s comical, since she doesn’t even come up to their bellies, but she doesn’t seem afraid of them.

“Cute,” Sharon coos, because she’s the one who does things like that.

“Well, these guys are all Bucky’s, strictly speaking, but we all like to help out,” Steve offers, nodding to each dog in turn. “Callie, Apollo, Artemis.”

Drax smiles. “Hello Bucky’s dogs! And Bucky, and Steve. I have forgotten your names,” he says to the others. “I would have said I am afraid that I have forgotten them, but I am not afraid at all.”

Sharon laughs. “I’m Sharon.”

“Hello, Sharon!” Reaching for the hand that’s not holding Apollo’s leash, Drax pumps it up and down enthusiastically.

“Natasha, and that’s Sam,” says Natasha, quickly slipping both hands into her pockets with a wry smile.

“Hello!” replies Drax. Callie, who had been distracted earlier by a particularly interesting patch of weeds, yelps and tries to jump on him.

“Callie, no!” Bucky gives the leash a firm tug, which only sort of works. “Sorry, she’s excitable.”

Laughing, Drax scratches her under her chin. “It is no trouble. I like happy dogs!”

“Should we be, ah… worried about Callie and Swift?” Sharon asks softly.

“Nah, Callie won’t hurt her.” Natasha’s watching the two dogs sniff at each other, and while Callie is roughly three times the size of Swift, neither one seems likely to do anything more than play-fight. “You can probably let her off the leash now, James.”

He does, and Sam unclips Artemis’ leash as well. After a pause where she looks to the others for approval, Sharon gingerly takes Apollo’s leash off and pets his head reassuringly.

Artemis guides Apollo off in the direction of some very interesting bushes, while Swift and Callie start wrestling. “Must be nice to have nothing to worry about,” observes Sam.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll take intelligent, conscious wrestling romps over apparently nonsensical ones, but they are pretty adorable,” Sharon quips.

“Have you sustained any impressive injuries from roller derby yet?” Drax asks Sharon. “Gamora once showed me the bruise that covered her entire right buttock. She had trouble sitting down for two weeks.”

She laughs. “Lucky for me, I haven’t hurt my ass yet,” she says. “I’ve had a couple of really gross bruises, but nothing that was as bad they looked.”

“And they looked pretty bad,” chimes in Natasha, nudging Sharon playfully with her shoulder.

“Good thing I had someone to help me take care of them,” Sharon replies with a smirk.

“Wait until you break a bone!” Drax is grinning; it’s a bit unsettling. “Gamora tells me that’s how you become a true derby girl.”

“Here’s hoping it’s a small one that won’t affect my day-to-day life,” Sharon declares.

 

* * *

 

The dogs mill around happily, the humans watching them at a respectful distance, and finally they park themselves in the shade of a tree. Bucky immediately takes over Steve’s lap and refuses to move, and Steve doesn’t seem to mind in the least, running his hand through Bucky’s hair. Drax wanders off to greet another regular at the park, and Sam leans against the tree and dozes. Sharon’s focused on taking pictures of the dogs with her phone, to varying degrees of success.

Natasha’s watching the dogs, but she’s also watching the other people. One in particular looks very familiar, so she decides to test that theory, standing up and ambling over to the woman. “Audrey?”

“Natasha, right?”

“Yeah, hi. I thought that was you.” Natasha smiles her most unassuming smile. “Been a while since I’ve been able to get to a concert, sorry. And I don’t usually have time to go to the orchestra pit after performances.”

“It’s no worry at all,” Audrey says, waving one hand as the other slips her phone back in her pocket. “Most of us are usually trying to get out of there as soon as we can, so we’re not good company.”

Natasha chuckles. “Fair. I can’t imagine it’s much fun being down in there for three hours. Which one’s yours?” She nods in the general direction of most of the dogs.

Audrey points out a big blond dog in the crowd, milling about making friends before he gets bored and moves on. “That’s him,” she says, smiling. “Ajax. I bought him to be a guard dog, but he turned out to be a much better lapdog.”

“Cute.” Natasha smiles, then says, keeping her tone light, “Didn’t know you were in need of a guard dog.”

“I was,” Audrey replies, shrugging. “Conveniently, changing locations is a good way to eliminate the need for one.”

Nodding in understanding, Natasha points at Callie, who, with Swift at her heels, is investigating a scruffy brown-and-white terrier. “That one’s my boyfriend’s, and so are the Great Danes over there.”

“Cute,” Audrey declares, grinning. “Which boyfriend?”

“James. The one who’s draped across Steve.” Natasha rolls her eyes affectionately. “You basically can’t separate those two.”

“They’re cute, too,” Audrey muses. “I wasn’t sure if the rumors were true, but hey, more power to you for it, I think.”

“Those rumors. Every week it’s something different. I live in fear of the day I gain five pounds and everyone assumes I’m pregnant,” Natasha snarks.

“You say that like it’s common enough to worry about,” Audrey says.

“In both of the jobs I’m working, it is.” Natasha rolls her eyes again, this time with no affection. “The mall is basically a slightly less depressing version of high school, and a lot of the other dancers would love me to leave so they can get their fifteen minutes. I can’t imagine orchestra’s that much better, though. Artists.” She shakes her head.

“Well, you can still play if you’re knocked up,” Audrey smirks. “But I’m sure you mean the cattiness. Which -- yeah, you’re right about that.”

Natasha nods. “I can handle it, but it’s nice to know that not everywhere is that extreme.” She’s quiet for a moment. “How about you, seeing anyone?”

Audrey shakes her head. “I haven’t exactly been in the place for it,” she says, meaning emotionally.

“It’s good that you know yourself well enough to know that. Not everyone does.”

Just then, Sharon strolls up and laces an arm with Natasha’s. “New friend?”

“Old acquaintance,” corrects Natasha with a smile. “Sharon, this is Audrey. She’s the star cello player in the orchestra for my troupe. Audrey, my girlfriend Sharon.”

“Nice to meet you,” Audrey says with a polite smile.

“And you,” Sharon returns. “I’ve always thought cellos were pretty sexy.” Of course, then she realizes what she’s said and winces apologetically.

Natasha snorts. “You’re adorable.”

“They’re sexier than a trombone, anyway,” Audrey replies, shrugging.

“Got a point,” concedes Natasha.

“So, have you… been here long?” Sharon asks Audrey.

“About five months,” Audrey says. “I’m still adjusting to the move, I think. Which, well, combined with the fact that I’ve never been all that great at putting myself out there…” She shrugs again, though she’s smiling.

Natasha smirks. “It’s okay, none of us are, really. We have game nights every week, if you wanna drop by sometime. Sam and Steve are a little better at meeting people than the rest of us.”

“There’s also, I got into roller derby a few months back, and the team has a high enough turnover that we’re almost always looking for newbies,” Sharon offers.

“I’d fall on my ass,” Audrey laughs, “but maybe I’ll come watch you guys sometime. That sounds like it could be fun.” She nods at Natasha. “Game night sounds moderately less like it would end in my being seriously injured.”

Laughing, Natasha replies, “Only if it’s not Twister. The boys play to win.”

“And you’re a perfect gentlewoman,” Sharon says airily, nudging Natasha. “Who has never once tried to make anyone fall over.”

“Who, me? Lies.”

“She really isn’t lying,” Sharon explains. “Although, there’s no need for her to play vicious, she’s the most flexible one of us by far.”

Natasha snorts and claps her hand over her mouth. “No comment.”

“I’m going to ignore the implications of that,” Audrey chuckles, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Anyway, you’re welcome to come. I can give you my number if you want,” offers Natasha.

“Yeah, sure,” Audrey nods, reaching for her phone. “It sounds nice. Tame. Casual.”

“Except for the part where everyone’s got dirty minds,” Sharon chimes in.

“I can handle that,” Audrey promises.

 

* * *

 

After Audrey and Ajax leave, the others watch their dogs for a bit longer before Apollo and Artemis wander back over, apparently having decided it’s time to go home. Bucky calls Callie back to him and she, eventually, comes, and they all walk home.

“Phew. Dunno why I’m so tired, they were the ones running around,” says Sam, collapsing onto Bucky’s couch.

“You were sleeping the whole time,” Steve points out, smirking. “I don’t know why you’re tired either.”

“Beauty sleep,” replies Sam with a grin.

It’s quickly wiped off his face, however, when Apollo plops down on top of him and settles in. “Hey!” Sam says, without any real malice. “I’m not your doggy bed!” Apollo grunts contentedly and doesn’t move. “Okay, I guess I’m never leaving your couch now, Buck.”

Bucky shrugs and grins. “I didn’t need the couch anyway.”

Sharon fishes her phone out of her purse and points it in Sam’s direction. “This is too cute,” she mumbles.

“ _You’re_ too cute,” says Natasha, coming up to grab her around the waist from behind and pull her into a chair. Callie, still wagging her tail but less bouncy after playing so much, comes over to curl up in front of them.

Sharon squeaks as she falls into Natasha’s lap, but it’s a very happy squeak. “We’re gross,” she says fondly.

“Yup,” says Sam cheerfully, scratching Apollo’s ears.

“Destroying America, one hug at a time,” chimes in Bucky, sitting with his back against the couch and pulling Steve down to join him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dogs look something like this: [Callie](https://cbsboston.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/dog2.jpg), [Artemis and Apollo](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/10/21/article-2051780-0E780B7000000578-975_634x482.jpg), [Swift](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/1f/6d/75/1f6d75bc39da32ab3883418b02212ff8.jpg), and [Ajax](http://www.dogingtonpost.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Canaan.jpg).


	37. but you expect me to jump up on board with you and ride off into your delusional sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The local Applebee's starts hosting trivia nights. Some teams take it more seriously than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The format here is based on what I remember of Applebee's trivia nights that I attended a few years ago. I have no idea how accurate my memory is, or if it's still done this way, but it made a good story.
> 
> The team names were mostly created with the help of various thematically-specific if random online name generators, some of which were more helpful than others.

With a roll of his eyes, Lance begins distributing the drinks to the table that’s full of birds he’d really mostly rather never see again, the exception being Lorelei. But her weird friend with the flowers and daft, staring eyes, and the two girls with neon hair and wildly differing expressions...he’d just as soon they never set foot in here again. (The fifth member of the troupe is one he’s never seen before, but she at least has normal hair, no tattoos, and dresses like she might have some sense in her head.)

“Thanks, lover,” Lorelei purrs, blowing a kiss as she accepts her margarita from his tray. She can read the vague distaste on his face right alongside the resignation to put up with it for whatever reason (probably to appease her in hopes of a repeat performance) and it’s sort of funny how uncomfortable he seems.

Nebula’s smirking as she grabs her beer. “Much obliged,” she says, toasting him almost mockingly before she takes a swig.

Carina winces, taking her cocktail (a Summer Squeeze, because of course it is) and nodding almost apologetically.

“Well mixed, Lollipop,” Raina purrs, swirling her own mojito and taking a sip.

MJ’s wearing a carefully calculated non-expression, setting her whiskey smash on the table and not making eye contact with Lance. Which is just fine by him, really.

“So,” he says, turning to Lorelei with his best charming smirk, “might you be up for a bit of fun after all this is over?”

As he asks this question, Raina falls against Lorelei’s shoulder and stares up at him as she gets her hair petted, as if acting out the answer to his question (“no”).

“Possibly,” Lorelei says casually. “Depends how late it runs, depends on how many more of these I finish off. Depends on a lot of things.”

Lance does his best to act like this doesn’t bother him. “Alright, whatever you please,” he says with a too-casual shrug. “Any appetizers for you lot?”

“Mozzarella sticks,” Lorelei says immediately, blinking coquettishly.

“And the beer pretzels,” Raina adds with a grin.

“Right then,” says Lance, trying his damnedest to keep a neutral face as he turns to leave. Next stop, the table full of fetuses, half of whom work for Apple, that Bobbi’s apparently befriended. “What’ll it be?” he asks, trying for a casual smirk. “And are we all together or getting our own, or…?” The two in the middle, the squirrely kid and the girl with an earnest face, they might be together, or maybe not. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were all fucking each other.

Jemma glances to the boys, then at Skye, her expression reading somewhere between amusement and confusion. “I, ah, I’ll have a margarita, just the regular one,” she offers.

“I want one of these,” says Skye, pointing at the mud slide. “It looks amazing.”

“The blue agave margarita,” Trip says. “And I’m paying for his drink too.” He nods at Fitz, who’s sitting next to him looking slightly embarrassed.

“Just a Blue Moon, thanks,” Fitz mumbles.

“Alright, so that’s one check for him and one for...both of you?”

“I’ll get hers, too,” Jemma says with a brilliant smile.

Lance nods. “And any appetizers?” He always feels a bit like a dancing monkey or a waiterbot, but he’ll catch hell from Summers if he doesn’t ask all the right questions.

“Wings!” says Skye eagerly, glancing around and seeing no dissent.

“Sauce?”

“The hot buffalo stuff?” When no one protests that either, Skye nods. “Yeah, that.”

“Right, be back shortly.”

Fitz, glad to be rid of him, starts glancing around the restaurant. “Oh look, Lorelei and her lot are here,” he says, nodding towards the corner table. “Never thought I’d see that.”

“I’m still not convinced they’re not planning something devious,” Jemma says, sipping her margarita. “Well, Carina and Nebula are fine. And MJ. But, you know.”

“Raina’s all right,” Trip replies with a lazy grin. “Lorelei’s okay if you know how to talk to her.”

“Damn, look, there’s a table of actual adults over there,” says Skye, pointing at the table where Coulson, Melinda, Maria, and several others are sitting. “I see Officers Mom and Dad wanted to maintain control of this situation too.”

Jemma snickers. “Officer Mom brought company, too,” she murmurs, nodding in Maya’s general direction.

Skye wolf-whistles. “I see how it is.”

“And there’s our friendly neighborhood KKK, right on schedule.” Trip frowns as a group comes in wearing IKEA shirts (minus one member, who is wearing street clothes and looks mildly confused about the entire affair).

“Of course,” Jemma sighs loudly.

“What’s Donnie doing falling in with them?” asks Fitz, looking horrified. “He’s a bit of an arse sometimes, but not a Nazi. I didn’t think.”

“Well, everyone’s got secrets, I guess,” Skye replies, rolling her eyes. “Sorry if my sympathy ends with ‘hanging out with Nazis.’”

Looking suddenly horrified, Jemma whispers, “You don’t think it’s another… vague, unexplained coercion situation?” Like the one that’s rumored to have been the case with Bucky, she means.

Trip shrugs. “He’s smart enough to get himself out of it, I think, but I could talk to him after if you think it’d be a good idea.”

Jemma makes a face like she’s genuinely considering this, and Skye decides to work on talking her out of it in case she’s drunk later. Right now, she distracts everyone by saying, “Hey, check out Officer Dad rallying the troops over there. Oh my god, is he actually giving a speech?”

“Damn,” says Trip, because Coulson is definitely giving some kind of inspirational speech to his team (Melinda looks politely engaged, while Mack and Bobbi keep giving each other significant looks and Maya eyes the plate of nachos that’s just within reach). “That’s hardcore.”

“I’m glad we’re not taking it that seriously,” Jemma declares, though her phone is still lit up beside her on a page of sports trivia questions and answers that she’d been studying.

“Well, _some_ of us aren’t.” Skye squeezes her shoulder affectionately. “But yeah, whatever, I’m here to have fun and drink and kick ass with you guys.”

After a few more minutes to allow everyone’s drinks and food to arrive, a tall man wearing sunglasses comes out and says loudly, “Attention! Attention, everyone! Welcome to Trivia Night! I’m Scott Summers and I’ll be your emcee-”

“You know we’re inside and you can take your sunglasses off, right?” calls Nebula.

Scott scowls and ignores her. “So if we can start figuring out teams now, that’d be great. I have forms, and I’ll start them going around so each team can take one. Along with that, I’ll be sending a stack of answer sheets for each table. Give me the name sheet back within five minutes, but keep the answer sheets for longer, of course.”

Skye grabs the name sheet the first chance she gets and, after pulling something out of Jemma’s purse, enthusiastically writes her chosen name in the blank. Then she leans her homemade sign, which reads JUPITER PHOENIX in various colors of glitter glue, against the drinks menu. “Best name _ever_ ,” she says, grinning.

“In _your_ opinion,” says Fitz.

“Hey, I call it like I see it.”

“I think it’s cute,” Jemma coos, kissing Skye’s cheek.

Skye hums happily and closes her eyes for a moment.

Trip murmurs, “I wonder what everyone else is picking.”

Lorelei writes down her team’s name with a self-satisfied expression, while Nebula sips on her beer and attempts to keep the irritation off her face. Half of Coulson’s team appears to be in heated discussion, while he is determinedly writing on the sheet. And the table full of Hydra associates is looking slightly panicked.

“I don’t think we should do that,” Donnie mumbles.

“Why not?” John Garrett scowls. “It sends the right message.”

“I just…” Donnie winces, looking to Ward for assistance, because he actually remembers Ward’s name since Ward was the one to invite him along.

“I think that might be just a bit too on-the-nose here,” says Ward smoothly. “Anyone else have any ideas?”

Rumlow’s looking nervously at Scott, who’s making his way around to collect the name sheets. “If someone doesn’t come up with something, it’ll _have_ to be Aryan Nightmare Void.”

“Here, give it to me.” Ward tugs the sheet from Garrett.

“Just write down whatever you sold last!” exclaims Rumlow. “Summers is coming!”

Ward, who’s having trouble managing Garrett _and_ Rumlow at the same time, wracks his brain for what that might be, and writes it down just as Scott comes to take it from his hand. “It’ll do,” he says with a shrug.

Scott saunters back to the vague center of the room, or at least the spot where he’s most likely to be heard by everyone. “So tonight, we have The Gecko Geckos, Lucky Bombshell, Trivia Corps, Dark Flying Thunder Sharks, Jupiter Phoenix, and...Chest of Drawers?” He shrugs. There’s a snicker from pretty much everyone in the place, except for the Hydra table, whose expressions vary from confused to angry.

Rumlow turns to glare at Ward. “I meant write down the _Swedish_ name, dumbass!”

Ward has his innocent “who, me?” face on. “I didn’t think of that.”

“How this works is, there’ll be six rounds of ten questions each, from various categories. I will read off the questions and you will write down your answers. Once finished, my assistant Lance will take them.” Lance is resolutely ignoring everything and seems to be trying to concoct a drink, or maybe poison, at the bar.

“First category is general questions!” announces Scott, shuffling a stack of index cards that he pulls from his pocket.

He starts reading off the questions, pausing after each one to give time for brief team consultations. Jupiter Phoenix seems to be working well together, Trip writing down the answers as they whisper amongst themselves. Lucky Bombshell may or may not be taking any of this seriously, though Carina at least looks as if she’s trying to focus. One question involves listing three distinct characteristics of female kangaroos and, even though Carina’s the one with the pencil, Nebula and Raina have badgered her into writing down “vagina, vagina, vagina” (“They’ve got three,” explains Nebula with a smirk).

The Trivia Corps table seems to be having some difficulty. Maya is writing the answers down, but Coulson keeps leaning over as if to make sure she’s doing it correctly. This, while he’s micromanaging everyone’s answers (Bobbi and Mack keep attempting to talk and being shut down, and Maria’s given up and is just rolling her eyes). He also keeps saying things like “Melinda, I don’t suppose you know any of these?” with a smile that would be called earnest by some and pathetic by others. At one point Maria catches Maya’s eye and mouths “bitch eating crackers,” which makes Maya snort.

Fury seems unconcerned with the drama and mostly interested in sipping his beer. Sif looks slightly embarrassed.

Finally, they finish the category and Lance shuffles around to pick up the answer sheets, handing them to Scott with a baleful look. “Okay, so here are the official answers! Question one: What musical instrument plays the ascending opening notes of George Gershwin's masterpiece, Rhapsody in Blue? The answer is clarinet!”

There’s a celebratory shout from Trivia Corps’ table, and Coulson turns to Melinda with a grin. “I’m glad we’ve got you, Melinda. Of course you knew that.”

Maria groans. “Phil, for god’s sake, stop,” she mutters. “Yes, she knew it because she was in band. But so was I. So were _you_. Stop talking like she’s so fancy.” The moment it’s said she gives Melinda an apologetic smile.

Melinda snorts. “It’s really not that difficult of a question.”

“I didn’t know it,” says Sif, and then looks as if she regrets speaking.

“How did the other teams do on that one?” Coulson asks.

Bobbi leans back, glancing around the room. One of the tables of randoms (it doesn’t matter which one) seems to have succeeded, and Jupiter Phoenix is high-fiving and patting Trip on the back. “I guess he got it right,” she offers.

“Oh, I didn’t know Trip was in band too,” replies Coulson.

“Trip just has varied interests,” Bobbi retorts, twirling her straw between her fingers.

At that, most of the table either exchanges wry glances or snickers. Coulson remains blissfully ignorant.

“Hurry up with the next questions, I Wear My Sunglasses at Night,” Raina calls from the corner.

Scott’s brow furrows as he reads off the next question. “List three distinctive parts of a female kangaroo’s anatomy. This one’s a little vague, but as long as you wrote something that identifies it as a kangaroo you’re probably fine.”

From the table where Lance is scoring, there’s a squawk of protest. “Who the fuck wrote ‘vagina’ three times?”

Raina and Nebula burst out laughing.

“Well, it’s true,” says Nebula, smirking. “Female kangaroos have three vaginas.”

Lance looks helplessly at Scott. “You’re not gonna give them that?”

Scott has pulled out his phone and is frantically fact-checking. “They’re right,” he says, sounding a bit horrified. “Give it to them.”

Wearing the most disdainful expression possible, Lance adds up the points dutifully.

This continues through the rest of the questions (Lucky Bombshell continues to interject needlessly sexual references into every answer possible, to Lance’s irritation), and by the end of the round Trivia Corps is in the lead. Coulson looks smug. Most of his team doesn’t seem to share his feelings, though - their expressions range from neutral to annoyed.

“And here we see the wild Officer Dad, completely oblivious to how his micromanaging causes social unrest and makes him the target of the herd’s frustrations,” murmurs Skye, trying for a vague David Attenborough-esque accent.

Of course, the voice makes Jemma roll her eyes, but only for a moment. “It does seem to be taking a bit of their fun out,” she observes, if warily.

“Bobbi looks as if she’s ready to throttle him,” comments Fitz, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I know it gets competitive and all, but damn, it’s still just Applebee’s trivia.” Trip shakes his head.

“Alright, it’s time for round two!” Scott announces. “We’ll be playing short clips from songs and you’ll have 30 seconds to identify them. If you can only name the title or artist, you’ll get one point or half a point, respectively.”

“Goody,” Maria mutters, sipping her margarita.

Scott nods to Lance, who has a laptop set up, and he plays the first song. To which Skye flails about and hisses “ _FERGALICIOUS”_ at Trip in what is clearly an attempt to not stand up and dance along.

Jemma winces in Fitz’s general direction, as if to say _well, I guess that’s my girlfriend_.

Ward and the rest of his team are exchanging baffled glances, while Donnie seems to be wracking his brain for the answer. But finally, he shakes his head and looks resigned.

The second song, “Last Train to Clarksville,” causes most of the room to scowl as if they’re trying to retrieve a long-buried memory. Only Trivia Corps and Lucky Bombshell are writing answers down, Coulson smiling triumphantly and Raina secretively.

When the third song turns out to be “Mr. Brightside,” approximately half of the players begin singing along at the top of their lungs. “Quiet, please,” says Scott, trying and failing to maintain order. Coulson, who isn’t singing along, gives him an approving nod.

The fourth song is “Cry Me a River.” Lance spends the entire time glaring at Bobbi, who is too busy frantically whispering the answer to Coulson (who looks doubtful but nods at Maya to write it down).

The fifth song seems to confuse most of the players - both groups of randoms are making “huh?” noises at all of the hidey-hos, and most everyone else is scrunching up their noses like they’re either not sure what this old-timey shit is or like they’ve heard it before but don’t remember it for anything. Jemma whispers an answer in Trip’s ear, which he shrugs and writes down; Raina just takes the pen from Carina, to everyone else’s confusion, and Fury leans across the table to grumble “St. James Infirmary” at Maya, who looks mostly surprised that he’s actually participating.

The Hydra table are all wearing identical leering smirks when “Hungry Like the Wolf” starts playing, and Ward’s is most definitely directed at Skye (who seems to be resolutely ignoring him). After a few seconds, though, Lorelei catches his eye and gives him such a stern look that he starts to work on pretending he was leering at her the entire time.

There’s a round of groans when song number seven turns out to be “Safe and Sound.” Carina perks up, but most of the mall employees especially look as if they’d rather eat glass than listen to this song again.

But number eight turns out to be a gift. One that prompts Maya to start sarcastically strumming an air guitar in Maria’s direction. Melinda watches, smirking, as does Trip. Skye frantically pokes Jemma in the arm and nods toward them, which is her way of being discreet.

“What in the hell is everyone freaking out about?” Lorelei mutters.

“It’s ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis. It’s a meme,” explains MJ. “Douchey white guys with acoustic guitars sing this song to impress girls, or so the theory goes.”

Lorelei snorts.

The next clip, which features a string of “ _lala deedadee_ ”s, causes Nebula to remark, “This sounds like a kids’ song if the kids were high as shit.”

Maria doesn’t look anyone in the eye when she says “It’s ‘We Can’t Stop’ by Miley Cyrus.” Preempting the shocked looks, she adds quickly, “I have an six-year-old niece.”

And the final one causes everyone who recognizes it to make identical expressions of embarrassment. “I hate myself for knowing every word of this song,” says Skye. “Fucking Green Day.”

Raina, who has proven herself her group’s resident music trivia expert, is sitting there glaring at the paper. “Do you know this one?” Carina asks softly.

“I am forfeiting this point on principle,” Raina declares.

As Scott reads off the answers, there are chuckles and groans corresponding to the appropriate songs. “St. James Infirmary” gets a couple shouts of “not fair!”, which Scott ignores.

The next category is sports, which essentially disqualifies half of the room from participating. Jupiter Phoenix’s members occupy themselves by watching the drama unfolding amongst Trivia Corps. Apparently every one of them except Maya, Mack, and Coulson have more than a rudimentary knowledge of sports trivia, and they’re willing to defend their knowledge to the death. Coulson mostly directs his attention to Melinda, asking her for the answers to each question, much to the annoyance of the others. Bobbi doesn’t even consider herself the biggest sports nerd, but she’s starting to feel like a seat-filler, and that doesn’t sit well with her, so by the last question she’s telling Maya her answer directly, flatly, before Coulson can say a thing.

“Oh _shit,_ ” says Skye. “Cue dramatic music.”

Meanwhile, the members of Chest of Drawers are all looking unsettled, as Rumlow determinedly scribbles down bullshit answers. He’ll be damned if he’s going to turn in a blank sheet.

As Scott reads off the answers (The Gecko Geckos and Trivia Corps seem to be the only ones getting any significant points), Lance begins circling the room to refill drinks. Coulson smiles proudly at Melinda after every right answer, saying “I’m glad you’re on my team, you’re brilliant.”

“Dude,” Maria interjects. “She didn’t even answer that question. I did.”

Coulson ignores her and continues to smile at Melinda. Bobbi’s starting to make the same “bitch eating crackers” face as Maria whenever she looks at him.

The next round is history questions, which every team seems to do middling to fairly well at, with the exception of Chest of Drawers. Judging by the whooping and odd pseudo-secret handshakes going on amongst them, they’re getting every single answer right. Skye watches them, eyes wide. “Is it a bad time for me to say that they’re getting all of them right because they’re stuck in the past?” she asks.

“Nah, that’s definitely what’s going on.” Trip narrows his eyes as he watches them.

“They need some way to hold onto their misguided superiority complexes,” Raina drawls, loud enough that she knows they’ll hear her despite the fact that she doesn’t turn to look at them.

During the next round, which involves identifying ten celebrities based on pictures of them in blonde wigs, there’s an argument amongst Trivia Corps. It starts in whispers, then gets progressively louder and more venomous until finally Bobbi, with an unreadable expression, gets up and storms away toward the ladies’ room.

“Should someone go after her?” Jemma whispers, watching Bobbi’s exit with a concerned expression.

“Do you know she wouldn’t deck you for it?” asks Fitz.

“Bobbi would never deck me,” Jemma says confidently.

Scott reads off the answers, which include Anne Hathaway, Rachel Bilson, Stana Katic, and Orlando Bloom. As he does, Maria slips away after Bobbi, attempting to be discreet and apparently neglecting to notice the just slightly startled, just slightly needy look that Maya fixes her with as she does. When Scott pauses after finishing the list, Lance pokes him and says, “Hey, mate, we might wanna take five,” because asking Scott Summers to notice interpersonal conflict is like asking the rain to stop falling.

Scott stops for a moment, like a robot who’s rebooting, and says, “Oh, okay. Ten minute break, everyone!”

“Oh my,” Carina murmurs, looking impossibly worried as she reaches for her (second) drink.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d suggest some sort of lover’s spat,” Lorelei says archly. It’s a joke, because Phil Coulson is nobody’s lover, especially one worth a spat.

Nebula snorts. “More like she just got tired of his micromanaging bullshit. Can’t say I blame her.”

“Well, no, it’s… very untoward of him,” Carina agrees. “It’s just…”

Reaching over to grab Carina’s hand gently, Nebula, who knows where that statement was going, finishes, “He is taking whatever fun they were getting out of it away, yeah.”

Carina sighs loudly, leaning her head against Nebula’s shoulder (this in turn prompts MJ to make a mildly sarcastic cooing noise and Raina to turn to snicker fondly into Lorelei’s chest).

Ward and his friends are murmuring amongst themselves, casting confused looks at Trivia Corps. “I guess that’s what you get when there’s too many women on one team,” Garrett says, twirling the straw in his drink.

Donnie makes a face, but apparently decides it’s not worth saying anything.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Fitz asks.

“They’ll have to, won’t they?” Jemma whispers.

Skye shrugs. “I mean, there’s enough people on the team that they don’t really _have_ to, I guess…”

“But they…” Jemma makes a face, not entirely sure where she’s going with this except for that the situation slightly unnerves her.

“Not saying they _shouldn’t,_ just saying if they don’t want to the others can’t really drag them back.” Skye reaches over to rub Jemma’s back reassuringly.

“No,” Jemma agrees, though she still sounds hesitant. “They can’t. I’m just… confused.” About the suddenness of this, mostly.

Trip nods. “It is pretty weird. Thanks for not being drama queens, y’all.”

Maya, meanwhile, has been struggling to make eye contact with Mack across the table, and finally when she does she mouths, “What is going _on_?”

Mack shrugs, tilting his head towards Coulson, then towards Bobbi’s empty seat. Then he attempts to discreetly make claws with his hands and twist them together.

Maya nods, trying not to sigh audibly; Sif is watching this out of the corner of her eye while pretending not to and trying not to chuckle. She glances over at Melinda, who is attempting to give Coulson some kind of comfort in the form of awkward shoulder pats (but also doesn’t seem all that thrilled by this turn of events).

Before the designated ten minutes are over, Bobbi and Maria emerge from the ladies’ room. Their arms are linked, their chins are lifted almost haughtily, and as they walk back to their table Maria mutters something - a drink order - in Lance’s ear.

“Shall we?” Bobbi says sweetly as they sit down.

“Yes,” says Maria, flashing a reassuring smile at Maya.

Coulson blinks for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, he just says, “Welcome back.”

Bobbi doesn’t bother to come up with a cover story; hell, she barely even bothers to approximate an apologetic wince. Instead she just turns to nod at Scott, as if to say it’s all right to continue.

Scott nods back, and then announces the next category (entertainment). For the rest of the night, Bobbi is all smiles and assent, the perfect picture of civility. The mood is still a bit uneasy at first, but after a while Maria and Mack follow her lead. (Fury spends most of the night nursing his drink and vaguely glaring at everyone.) The other teams continue as before, with Lucky Bombshell continuing to write answers that are meant to get a reaction out of Lance, up to and including spilling his own drink.

At the end of the night, Scott announces the top three teams: the winners, Trivia Corps, and the second and third place runners-up, Gecko Geckos and Jupiter Phoenix. Skye is just tipsy enough to start making loud whooping noises when he calls their names, and though Fitz tries to shush her as his ears turn red, Jemma rather messily pats Skye on the shoulder in congratulations with one hand and toasts the boys with her other hand. Coulson looks unbelievably smug, while the rest of his team’s expressions vary from pleased to embarrassed. Bobbi’s face gives nothing away.

 

* * *

 

Bobbi scowls in that weary way that she knows Mack will be able to interpret. “Stupid me, I thought that once I was the manager at work, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting bossed around,” she mutters. “I didn’t even _think_ about it happening in the rest of my life.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Mack’s not much for talking, really, but if Bobbi wants to, he’ll listen.

“Hey, you need help or anything?” a new voice asks. It’s Skye, who’s come up with the rest of her team and is on her tiptoes, peering into the truck bed at them.

Bobbi chuckles, lifting the beer. “We’re not having car troubles.”

“Help with anything… else?” Jemma asks weakly, blushing once she realizes how it sounds.

Skye giggles. “I don’t think they need help with _that_ either, honey,” she murmurs, kissing Jemma’s cheek.

“We’re fine,” Bobbi promises, leaning against the side of the cab. “You kids going to be safe to get home?”

“Fine, thanks,” says Trip with a chuckle. “Hey, good work tonight. In spite of...y’know.”

“You guys, too,” Bobbi replies, giving a rather tipsy salute.

Skye grins and salutes back. “Jupiter Phoenix, roll out!”

“Good night!” calls Fitz, somewhat awkwardly, as the four of them turn to leave.

The moment they’re out of earshot, Bobbi chuckles. “They’re cute.”

“Yeah,” agrees Mack. “They’re nice kids.”

“Very good manners, too,” Bobbi observes. The _unlike some people_ doesn’t need to be said.

Nodding, Mack’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “So you wanna come back next week, or…?”

She fixes him with another one of those looks. “We need to regroup,” she declares.

“Thought you might say that.”


	38. darkness to light, moved from day into night to be near you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a band showcase that may or may not be a battle, certain unexpected connections happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows [she's found a treasure with diamonds and golden rings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/8338753).
> 
> The members of Death In My Family are meant to be the original five New Mutants, even though the only ones that appear onscreen are Rahne Sinclair, Dani Moonstar and Bobby da Costa. And yes, Dani and Rahne are dating because Marvel is kidding themselves if they think Dani's straight.

“So, Hannah,” Darcy says grandly, gesturing around the small nightclub they’re sitting in. “You ever been to a battle of the bands before?”

Hannah very politely winces. “I didn’t think this was a battle,” she says. “Just a showcase.”

Darcy shrugs. “It may not technically be a battle, but it’s totally a battle,” she replies. “It’s so much more interesting that way.”

“I… see,” Hannah murmurs, although she really doesn’t. “So aside from Carina’s band -”

“The Real Helldivers,” Darcy agrees with a grin, because she thinks it’s kind of adorable how Hannah is here to support her friend but refuses to say her friend’s band’s name.

“Aside from them,” Hannah continues with a pleasant smile, “who all is playing here tonight?”

“Nobody I’ve heard before,” Darcy shrugs. “I mean, before I started dating one of the Helldivers I wasn’t exactly up on the local punk scene. But let’s see. “ She opens the badly photocopied program (it’s on bright orange paper, black text and images, so it looks like a really shitty jack o’lantern). “Godbot, Swindlers and Rats - I heard they’re not very good, for political reasons… hm. Death In My Family and… Climax With Honor.” She says the last with a mischievous grin.

“That’s nice,” Hannah says faintly, looking slightly overwhelmed.

 

* * *

 

“They have a _girl drummer,_ ” growls Nebula.

“They have girl lots of things,” Carina points out.

“Yeah, but look at her. She looks smug. I hate her.”

Just then, the redheaded girl Nebula’s talking about, who’s standing near the rest of her bandmates, glances over and flips Nebula the bird, as if she’s heard her. The girl next to her, who has olive skin and pigtails and is holding her other hand, widens her eyes and starts murmuring urgently to her.

“You can’t hate someone you don’t know,” Carina insists.

“ _Watch me._ ” Nebula calls over, “Hey asshole! I’m gonna come over there and shove that drumstick up your ass!”

“Jus’ try it an’ see where it gets ya,” the girl calls back, her Scottish accent strong.

“ _Rogue_ ,” Carina implores, making her best cartoon eyes. “Maybe you can get them to stop, since I clearly can’t.”

Rogue sighs. “Neb, c’mon, stop antagonizing her. We’ll kick their asses tonight, you know we’re better than them.”

“Besides, uh, no offense, but she’s got...muscles and stuff,” MJ points out. “Like, I think she could probably kick your ass without much trouble.”

Carina shakes her head ‘no’ violently.

Nebula glares at MJ. “Fuck you, I’ve been in fights before!”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” replies MJ quickly. “Just trying to keep you out of a fight, and us from getting kicked out of here. We have a gig to play, remember?”

Growling, Nebula punches the first thing her fist comes into contact with (the wall) and storms off.

“You better go after her, Carina,” sighs Rogue.

“Yeah,” Carina sighs, standing and brushing imaginary crumbs off of her skirt. “Hopefully I’ll be back soon? With her in tow?”

“Good luck,” says MJ with an apologetic smile.

Laura wanders over to them, looking confused. “I have missed something. Logan wanted to make sure I was ‘still in one piece,’ as he put it.”

“Oh, Nebula took offense to the girl drummer for Death In My Family and almost started a fight,” sighs MJ. “Then I tried to head it off and she went thataway. Carina went to do damage control.”

Laura nods. “I see.” She looks over at the other band. “MJ, that boy is watching you.”

“Hm?” MJ glances up. Sure enough, the darker-skinned boy is grinning at her and running a hand through his curly black hair. When he spots her looking back, he gives her a little wave. “ _Well,_ ” says MJ, smirking. “You guys can hold down the fort for a few minutes, right?”

Rogue rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

MJ walks over to him, deliberately swaying her hips more than normal, and soon they’re both chatting away like old friends.

Laura watches them, tilting her head. “Cessily said she would come tonight. You haven’t seen her, have you, Rogue?”

Shaking her head, Rogue says, “Nah, sorry. I’ll keep an eye out, though.”

“All right.” Laura busies herself with tuning her bass.

A few minutes later, another redhead, this one wearing vaguely sporty clothes, tiptoes over. “Um, hi, is Laura here?”

“Cessily!” Laura smiles, or at least looks happy. “You did come! I thought you might have forgotten, or decided you did not want to come. Not that I would blame you, it gets very loud sometimes.”

“No, of course I wanted to come!” Cessily puts her hand out as if to shake Laura’s hand or touch her, then seems to think better of it and settles for a wave. “Am I supposed to be back here? I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s fine,” says Rogue, smirking. “Nice to meet ya, Cessily, I’m Rogue.”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” chuckles Cessily nervously. “Where are my manners? Yes, hi, I’m...I’m Laura’s...Laura invited me.”

Rogue nods and murmurs to Laura, “She’s cute.”

“Yes,” says Laura, lifting her chin proudly. “Cessily, do you want to watch me warm up? I’m told it can be boring but it is necessary.”

“Sure!” Cessily glances around for a moment before carefully clearing a stack of papers off of a nearby folding chair and then sitting on it.

Rogue rolls her eyes fondly and, without anyone to talk to, surveys the crowd. After a minute or two she spots Darcy and Hannah up on the balcony and, though she feels silly doing it, waves.

Darcy has, of course, been waiting for Rogue to notice her, so her return wave is hyper-enthusiastic, very fond, and, after a moment, accompanied by a blown kiss.

And since Rogue doesn’t have anything better to do and they’re playing next-to-last (Godbot’s up first), she heads up to say hi. Since Darcy brought the other girl, there’s probably not gonna be any kissing, but a girl can hope, right?

“Hey, cutie,” Darcy coos, batting her eyelashes.

“Hey yourself,” purrs Rogue, turning to Hannah to add “and you” in a much less flirty tone of voice.

“Hi,” Hannah says. The poor thing looks entirely bewildered by this point, but she’s trying to smile as bravely as she can.

“You guys aren’t on for a while, yeah?” Darcy clarifies.

“Nope,” says Rogue with a chuckle. “Which is, y’know, fine except Neb’s gone and gotten herself in a near-tussle with one of the drummers. Car went to calm her down.”

“Carina is kind of a saint,” Darcy observes. “I say with love.”

That makes Rogue laugh. “I keep tellin’ her she oughta see about that sainthood, but she just laughs me off.” She eyes Hannah for a moment before saying, “This don’t seem like your usual crowd, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

“I wanted to support Carina’s band,” Hannah says almost plaintively. “I keep hearing about you guys, and I figured it was the nice thing to do.”

“Aw, you’re sweet.” Rogue grins. “Sorry if it ain’t what you’re used to. We’re, uh, well. We’re kinda rough around the edges.”

“I’m… sort of getting that feeling,” Hannah says, “but it’ll be interesting, you know? It’ll be very, ah. Very different.”

“Good for you,” Rogue nods.

After a minute or so of awkward small talk, Cessily comes wandering over and says, “Um, Rogue, Nebula said I should come tell you you need to come practice because she wants to rip that redhaired bitch apart. Her words, not mine.”

Rogue laughs. “Well, she’s back to normal, sorta. I’ll see ya later, Darce,” she says with a wink, “and Hannah.”

“Who’s this?” Darcy asks, nodding in Cessily’s direction.

“I’m Cessily,” she says with a wave. “Um, I’m...I’m with Laura, Laura asked me to come, I mean. You’re...Darcy? She mentioned you. Something about a party?”

“I had a party recently that Laura attended, yeah,” Darcy says warily, like she’s trying to figure out where this is going.

“Oh, she didn’t say anything bad! Just that she went and it was interesting. I guess she’d never played a party game before that.” Cessily laughs awkwardly. “She said her dad wasn’t one for sleepovers, really, and she didn’t have a lot of friends since they were on the road so much. So it was something new.”

It’s apparently the right remark to get Darcy to soften, because her response is, “I’m glad I made sure she had a good first sleepover, then.”

 

* * *

 

Tonight might be a night like any other. There’s nothing particularly radical or innovative about local indie punk bands, but when you’re friends with people, you go watch their indie punk band anyway. Sort of punk. Nebula hasn’t exactly been able to pin their genre down, which in Raina’s opinion is actually something of a recommendation. Defined genres are incredibly boring.

But she’s also decided to multitask tonight. Lorelei had other plans, so Raina is here alone, fidgeting with the umbrella in her drink (purchased strictly because she was curious what the umbrella drinks would taste like at a dive bar concert hall) and trying not to look _too_ bored as a quartet of people who are much too old to be dressed like terrible trash punks yet _are_ mix their messily reverberating guitars with some thudding club beat. Honestly, the best thing she can think of to say about this excuse for a band is that some of their members refuse to conform to society's rigid gender roles.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Clint suddenly appearing from the upper balcony and taking a seat four down from hers, seemingly unaware of his physical surroundings (he’s either actually interested in the technopunk monstrosity or watching them intently in hopes that they’ll finally do something interesting; Raina hopes it’s the latter) and as casual as ever. Well, he’s more interesting than Godbot, at least.

So she leans across the empty seats and flashes a brilliant smile. “Evening, bird boy!”

He jumps about a foot and yelps, “Oh my god!”

Raina giggles behind her hand like an anime villain. “Having a good time tonight?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” he says, trying to readjust. “Yes? What are _you_ doing here?”

“I have friends playing,” she says with a shrug.

“These guys?”

“Very much not,” she rolls her eyes. “They’re pedestrian.”

He laughs, as much in surprise as actual amusement. “Yeah, but I don’t get out a lot. They’re serviceable, as excuses to go out.”

“Technically true,” she agrees. “Though lots of things are _technically_ excuses to go out, if you try hard enough.”

He blinks. “I guess.” Then he adds, before he can think better of it, “I kinda feel like you’re haunting me though. I mean, you show up everywhere I am.”

“Not _everywhere_ ,” she says, exaggerating the word. “I’ve never seen your apartment. You’re never at Applebee’s unless there’s a mall function.”

He shudders a bit, unconsciously. “Not _everywhere_ , but...lots of places.”

“Well, then we just have similar tastes,” she declares, nodding as if that clinches it.

He nods because that seems to be the best answer to that, and then notices the rose on her hand. “Is that new?” (Ghosts can’t get tattoos, he’s pretty sure.)

Raina nods too, very proudly. “New enough,” she says, displaying it for him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Because it _is,_ it’s vibrant and detailed and really neat. He recognizes Drax’s style in the leaves and colors, and it kind of weirds him out to think that they’ve gotten work done in the same place, but hey, it makes sense.

“Do you have any work done?” she asks innocently.

He laughs nervously. “Yeah, I...I have a tree on my chest. For, y’know, nature and...life...and…”

“It’s a cover-up tattoo, isn’t it?” She’s not asking like someone who already knows, but she’s asking like someone who probably already knows.

“Not...entirely,” he mumbles. “The bird goes very nicely in the tree.”

She hisses out a breath, pitying almost. “I bet it went better with another bird.”

“Well, she has more than one, but yeah.” He’s fidgeting, unsure of how this got personal so quickly.

“Poor thing,” Raina coos. Then she nods back toward the band, bright as ever. “Can you understand a single lyric they’re singing?”

 

* * *

 

“I’m not seeing Skye or any of her group,” says Ward, disappointed.

“Dude, you gotta get over her.” Brock rolls his eyes. “You only want her ‘cause you can’t have her. There’s plenty of girls here. Just focus on finding one to take home, you’ll forget all about her.”

Ward shakes his head. “Easy for you to say. You never keep them around for more than a week.”

“Hey, what can I say? It’s a talent.” Brock scans the room before letting out a wolf whistle. “Speaking of, I just found a candidate for tonight’s position. See you later.” He strides off, projecting an air of smugness.

Ward sighs and glances around for a while, finally spotting that weird girl from the weed store. Skye’s sister? She looks like she could be, anyway. Well, close enough, he thinks, and heads over, putting on his very best air of charm. “Hey there,” he says with a grin. “How’s your night going?”

“I’ll be back, bird boy,” Raina says smoothly, waving Clint goodbye as she slips out of her seat. “It’s not the worst night I’ve ever had. Could be getting a lot better now.” A terrible line, but she knows he’s going to fall for it.

“Oh, is there some way I can help with that?” he asks. Yeah, he can definitely see the family resemblance.

She raises an eyebrow. “That depends,” she murmurs.

“You wanna dance? My friend’s band is up next,” Ward says, just as Swindlers and Rats is announced.

 

* * *

 

“Hey there.”

Gamora looks up from the napkin she’s been doodling on. “Hey,” she says, looking up to see someone whose name she’s moderately embarrassed to admit she doesn’t remember.

“Gamora, right? You work at the tattoo place? I’m Mike.” He smiles shyly. Normally he doesn’t make a habit of talking to strangers, but here he is.

“Right, hey,” she nods. “Mike. You’ve got me right, but I’m drawing a blank on where you work.” She shrugs in what’s meant to be an apologetic move.

“Oh, Build-A-Bear,” Mike replies with a chuckle. “It’s crazy sometimes, but it pays the bills. And Ace thinks my job is pretty cool.”

Gamora tilts her head. “Ace is…?”

“My son. I forget y’all over there don’t know every stupid detail of our lives.” Mike grins. “He’s eight and gives me hell sometimes, but he’s all I got.”

“Are you used to people knowing every stupid detail of your life?” she asks, because that seems like the first obvious point to get squared away.

“In that mall, yeah. It’s kinda like high school, except we all pay bills.”

“That sounds exhausting,” she says. “I hated high school. When I went.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “This is a little better. Fewer bullies. Or, well, I guess they’re mostly over at IKEA, at least.” He glances down at the stage and grimaces - this band is terrible, but it’s obvious they’re at least Hydra-adjacent by the symbol painted on one of their drums. “And people actually seem to like me, which is a bonus.”

“How nice for you,” she says after a moment, smirking and hoping it doesn’t come off incredibly ridiculous or like something Quill would say.

Still grinning, he replies, “How about you, how long have you been a tattoo artist? I noticed you doodling there, you’re damn good.”

Startled, Gamora peeks at her drawing (she’s had a little to drink, so it’s a very intricate unicorn running its horn through the chest of several Hydra associates) and shrugs. “I’ve been drawing like this since I can remember,” she says. “I’ve been a tattoo artist about as long as it was legal for me to be.”

“Damn. Well, it shows. I love looking at fancy tattoos, but I just have this one myself.” Mike rolls up his sleeve and nods at the Batman symbol that’s hiding on his upper arm. “Ace loves Batman and I thought it’d be appropriate, y’know, quiet loner and all.”

“Nice,” she murmurs, smiling appreciatively. “I’ve got wings on my back, but I won’t show them to you here.” The minute it’s said, she wants to kick herself, or possibly kick Quill, because he’s _definitely_ rubbing off on her, there’s no mistaking it now.

Interested, Mike asks, “Did your partner do them for you? Drax?”

“He did,” she agrees, before it dawns on her that Mike said “partner” and she immediately rushes to clarify, “Drax is _not_ my partner like that! We work together. That’s really, really it.”

Laughing, Mike nods. “Okay, sorry for assuming. You must get that a lot.”

“I’m used to it by now,” she shrugs. “You spend enough time around people that someone else thinks you’re supposed to be fucking and you’re bound to hear it.” She grins wryly. “I’m not fucking Quill either, just in case you were headed there next.”

“Honestly hadn’t crossed my mind,” he says lightly. “You seem too smart for him, anyway.”

That makes Gamora chuckle in a very ungraceful way. “He’s not as dumb as he acts,” she says, “but he is sort of dumb.”

“Has he even managed to score with any girls since you guys moved in over there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she says. “He doesn’t act like a kicked puppy _every_ day, so I assume some of his attempts at flirtation end well.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe anybody would be dumb enough to fall for that. But I guess that’s their prerogative.”

“Takes all sorts,” she agrees. “I can’t say I’ve never wanted to interfere just to save the girls that trouble, but I can’t babysit all of them.”

“It’s good of you to think of it,” he says with a smile, which she returns.

 

* * *

 

Nebula is busying herself with making as many obscene gestures toward the stage as she can while never actually doing it while any of the band is looking their way.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Carina sighs.

“They’re _Nazis,_ they deserve everything I give them,” replies Nebula.

“Yeah, Car, I think your instincts are good but in this case I’m gonna have to say Nebula’s in the right,” chimes in MJ. “She shouldn’t do it while they’re _looking_ , and she’s not. But they’re kind of awful.”

“I think Logan might fight them later,” Laura says. “Nazis make him angry.”

“They’re completely awful,” Carina agrees, voice pitching high. “But shouldn’t she save it for after the show, when we’re not inside the theater and the event organizers can’t kick us out for foul play?”

Rogue snorts. “If _that_ was all it took to get us kicked out, Neb’s trash talking would’ve done it already.”

“I can’t decide which band I hate more,” grumbles Nebula.

MJ opens her mouth to argue the point, and then something catches her eye that makes her forget everything she’d been about to say. “Is Gamora _hitting on_ that guy?”

Everyone stops arguing to look in the direction she’s looking. “Holy shit,” says Nebula. “She’s definitely talking to him.”

“That’s Mike from the bear store,” Carina exclaims, although she doesn’t entirely expect the others to care.

“He’s kinda cute,” Rogue says, “for, y’know, a dad.”

“Isn’t he like 30?” asks MJ. “I’m not sure he qualifies as ‘hot dad’ just yet.”

Rogue grins and shrugs. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“This is weird. I dunno if I like it.” Nebula’s tilting her head, looking at Gamora and Mike, like they’re a Magic Eye picture and she might suddenly understand it if she moves her head around enough.

“She looks like she’s having a nice time,” Carina offers.

Laura’s been listening to the entire discussion, a thoughtful look on her face. Finally she says, “They’re not going to have sex tonight, but I think it will happen eventually. They are laughing and Gamora is touching her hair. Nebula, you may wish to speak to her about this so that you do not walk in on something unexpectedly in the future.”

Nebula snorts. “God, I’d better not.”

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly at all, Climax With Honor winds up being considerably more indie than the bands that preceded it in the lineup. Not _good_ indie (Darcy has been wincing since one of the singers brought out a banjo) but even still.

“I think they must have named themselves after something they won’t be able to do,” Darcy says solemnly.

“I don’t think I get it,” Hannah mumbles apologetically.

Darcy glances down at her own drink (whiskey sour) and then at Hannah’s (cherry Coke) and suddenly decides it’s just not worth it. “I don’t think they’re able to do anything with honor,” she says instead.

Hannah nods. “They do seem fairly suspicious.”

 

* * *

 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re very exotic-looking?” Ward asks. “It’s fascinating.” He does his best soulful gazing at her face.

Raina has to take a moment. Between that line and that look, she’s tempted to start laughing hysterically, but that just wouldn’t do. So, once she’s calmed, she bats her eyelashes and smirks. “How so?”

“Well, you’re just so different from all the other girls. They’re all so...cookie-cutter, nice-looking but in an average way. You, I haven’t seen a lot of girls who look like you. Coffee with just the right amount of cream. And your eyes are gorgeous.” He grins charmingly.

She’s pretty sure that if she had a dollar for every time someone compared her to coffee, she’d be able to buy the Starbucks corporation, but she’s putting up with this out of scientific curiosity. And because hell, she hasn’t really run a con on a guy in a long time. It’s too much fun. “Mm, thank you,” she croons, leaning across the table to fondle his bicep. “You’re quite something yourself.”

He flexes for her, unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face. “Thanks. Always nice to get a compliment from a pretty girl.”

“I can’t imagine you don’t get those every day,” she says.

He shrugs, trying to seem self-depreciating. “Not as often as I’d like. Which is why it means more when I get them. And you, I bet you get men fawning over you constantly.”

There are about four different responses on the tip of her tongue, but the one she manages to force out is, “I’ve had my share.” In her opinion, that’s actually an understatement, she’s had far more men fawn over her than she’d really like, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, I hope I’m not being forward if I ask to do it some more.”

She makes a show of glancing around the room before she answers. “I suppose that could be all right,” she tells him.

 

* * *

 

Cessily’s back down with Laura and the rest of the band, waiting for their fifteen minute cue, and Cessily’s sitting next to Laura with their hands not-quite-touching. Laura’s cocking her head, listening to Climax With Honor. “I do not see what the banjos are for,” she says, quietly enough that it’s obviously meant for Cessily only.

That makes Cessily giggle, a little nervously. “Neither do I,” she admits. “I guess a lot of indie bands think they need them now?”

“This is the kind of music that Logan would say belongs on a farm.” Laura glances down at their hands, then suddenly says, “If you would like to, we could hold hands now. I hear that is something that people who are dating do.”

“Oh!” Cessily flushes. “I...I’d like that, yes.” She holds her hand out, unsure what to do next.

Laura takes it, somewhat awkwardly, and then smiles. “I have never held anyone’s hand before,” she says. “It’s nice.”

Cassily gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

“Get a room,” says Nebula, almost cheerfully.

“But we are in a room.” Laura stares at her. “Or is that a sexual reference?”

“...Never mind.”

 

* * *

 

“So what brings a nice girl like you to a place like this?” asks Ward. He doesn’t usually drop that line so late in a conversation, but something tells him it’ll be well-received.

“I enjoy art in all its forms,” Raina says casually, shrugging a way that she’s practiced enough that she knows it looks utterly organic.

He blinks. “Yeah, but are you here for someone? Or... _with_ someone?” Because some girls do that at places like this, they flirt while their boyfriend’s onstage. He’d just as soon know if he needs to slip away to avoid a fight.

She giggles. “My friends are playing,” she explains. “I just came to support them.”

“Which ones are they?”

“The Real Helldivers,” she says brightly. “Your friends just played, but is that the only reason a nice _boy_ like you would end up here?” She thinks she knows where this might lead, and she wants to know if she’s correct.

“I’m not a nice boy at all,” he says with a wry smile.

“But you wear it so well,” she murmurs, faking a sort of awe (when really, all she’s feeling is absolute delight that he said something so solidly terrible).

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Then what would you say if I confessed to you that sometimes I just can’t _help_ but be naughty,” Raina whispers, eyes sparkling.

He can’t help the eager expression that causes. “I’d say that’s an interesting idea that I’d like to hear more about. Maybe after the show?”

“Will you make it worth my while?” she asks, voice as throaty and seductive as she can manage.

Well, _that_ sure gets a reaction. Adjusting slightly (because he doesn’t want to seem like an inexperienced kid who’ll pop boners at the mention of sex), he gives her a smooth smile and replies, “I’ll do my best.”

Perfect. “And what do you expect of me in return?” she presses.

“Proper compliance. I have a feeling you’re very obedient.”

She shivers, and she’s sure it passes for aroused even though it’s the direct opposite. Her eyes close for just a few seconds, and when she looks back up at him it’s as little girl lost as she’s ever done. “Yes, sir,” she says, so faintly it’s barely audible.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” he replies, reaching out to run a hand down her arm.

It’s almost funny to her how dense he is at this point, but then, that makes it that much easier. She bites her bottom lip, tucks hair behind her ear with her left hand. “I want you to,” she murmurs. _She_ knows she sounds insincere, but he apparently doesn’t.

“We’re leaving right after your friends play.” He hasn’t been the one giving orders in a while, and it’s kind of nice.

She nods (she’d been planning on doing this anyway, but she’d be lying if she said a tiny part of her didn’t suddenly feel like staying until the end). “Whatever you like.”

“I’d like you to bring me a drink, actually. And once you’re done with yours, don’t get yourself any more.” He’s laying it on a little thick, and he knows that, but he really is enjoying this.

When she thinks about it, that’s probably for the best. She’s got enough of a buzz on that she can act like she tolerates this, but not so much of one that the ridiculous details are going to be a blur. “Do you have any requests?”

He waits a moment, like he’s thinking about it, before answering, “Your choice. We’ll see how good you are at judging what I like.”

It’s not hard. One, this is a dive bar, so that means the menu is limited. Two, she can smell the scotch on him. Three, she’s just good at knowing these things. “May I go get it now?” she asks, all too sweet.

Nodding, he says, “Go on.”

 

* * *

 

“Next up, the Real Helldivers!”

“The drummer’s your sister, right?” Mike asks.

“Yeah,” Gamora agrees. “Obviously not biological, we had the same asshole of a foster dad and - that’s a really depressing story, so I’ll spare you.” It’s as much that as the fact that she started telling it before she realized what she was doing and then caught herself.

Mike nods sympathetically. “Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to.”

She can tell he’s not just saying that to sound like a Nice Guy worth confiding in (something she’s well-acquainted with) and that makes her realize she may actually want to confide in him eventually. Maybe. But instead of saying any of that, she glances at the crowd and chortles.

“What?”

“Look down and see if you can guess,” she says, sounding amused.

He does, and notices Peter Quill about fifteen feet from the stage, whooping enthusiastically and holding a neon sign that says #1 FAN. “Oh my god.”

“He’s mostly harmless,” she shrugs. “Doesn’t keep him from being an idiot.”

“I see,” Mike says, chuckling. “At least he’s...enthusiastic.”

“I think he means well, anyway,” Gamora agrees. “And in this particular case, he’s not just doing it to score with anyone, so that’s a step in the right direction.”

Mike snorts. “Always good.” Then he adds, “Your sister’s a pretty good drummer.”

“She really is,” Gamora says. “They’re all pretty good at what they do, actually. I don’t really get some of it, but they’re sure better than any of these other guys.”

“Not like that’s hard,” replies Mike with a roll of his eyes. “I mean, I never expect much, but the lineup has been pretty lackluster tonight.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You come to these things a lot?”

He shrugs. “When I can. Punk’s a genre I have a lot of respect for, when it’s done properly. I like keeping an eye on the local scene.”

“I’m surprised I’ve never seen you at a show before,” she declares.

“I keep to myself a lot, try to blend in. Which is harder than it looks, being a six-foot tall black guy with burns everywhere.” He grins.

Part because she knows that he didn’t say that to invite her to ask and part because his grin is infectious, she just smiles and replies, “If you’ve done it well enough that someone who’s trying to do the exact same thing hasn’t noticed you, you’re truly impressive.”

“Well, thanks! Nice of you to say so.”

They don’t talk for a few minutes, listening to the Helldivers play. Or, Mike’s listening - Gamora, because she’s heard these songs a thousand times, has gone back to doodling. Mike studies the band, noticing which members are hyperfocused on the music (Laura, who’s frowning in concentration as she plays, and Nebula, who’s wearing an almost murderous expression) and which are more interested in putting on a show (MJ is putting her heart into her voice, but she’s also flirting with the crowd). The Helldivers certainly know how to put on a show, unlike most of the other bands.

And Gamora isn’t entirely paying attention, but she can see that Mike is into it, and that makes her proud. For all that she and Nebula argue and for all that she really doesn’t know how to talk to Nebula’s friends, she does understand that Nebula enjoys this and she does understand that Nebula is good at it, so it makes her happy to see that it’s working out.

After five songs, the Helldivers are applauded (and cheered for, in Quill’s case) and ushered offstage so that the final band, Death In My Family, can play. While they’re packing up their instruments (Rogue and MJ had agreed that sticking around while the girl drummer played was a terrible idea), Laura glances out at the audience. Two things catch her eye: Mike and Gamora on the balcony, each taking the other’s phone and typing something in, and the rude man from the Valentine’s bar party leaving with Raina, who she remembers from the Christmas party. “Rogue, is Gamora giving her number to that man?”

Rogue pauses and glances to where Laura’s pointing. “I...guess so,” she says, a bit shocked.

“Wait, what? What’s my sister doing?” Nebula follows their gazes and gasps. “That’s fucking weird. I’ve never seen her do that.”

“I think it’s nice!” Carina chimes in.

“You would,” says Nebula, not unkindly. “Can I crash at your place when they start fucking?”

“You know you don’t even have to ask,” Carina replies softly.

Nebula makes a soft noise that would be a grunt from anyone else, but which is meant affectionately.

“And the Nazi from the bar, he is going home with that woman, Raina.” Laura nods in their direction. “I do not understand.”

MJ raises an eyebrow. “Well, she’s got...interesting taste.”

“Jesus christ,” says Nebula. “The fuck does she think she’s doing?”

Carina winces. “I don’t think she’s entirely on the level about it,” she attempts.

“Sorry?” Rogue asks.

“I’m not quite sure,” Carina mumbles, “but - Nebula, do you ever get the feeling that she and Lorelei are _up_ to something? They… look at each other like they have a sinister plan sometimes, and a lot of the time it’s when the Nazi is involved.”

Nebula snorts. “It’d make more sense than the idea that she _wanted_ to fuck him, anyway.”

“I don’t think there’s that to worry about,” Carina agrees. “I mean, I think she’s… you know. Satisfied. Already.” She shrugs helplessly, because she doesn’t know how else to put it.

Laura blinks. “Interpersonal relationships are complicated. Has anyone seen Cessily?”

“I think your girl’s over there,” says MJ, nodding to where Cessily’s making her way over to them.

“Thank you,” replies Laura, waving at Cessily.

“Not a bad night, I’d say,” says Rogue with a smirk. Her phone buzzes and, after glancing at it, she adds, “I’m gonna meet Darcy outside, I’ll see y’all later?”

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy yourself.” Nebula rolls her eyes.

“Plan on it,” Rogue calls over her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The subplot about Ward and Raina involves a lot of unhealthy skeeziness, which Raina is fully aware of. She is deliberately making the choice to get involved with him, suspecting (accurately) that he has certain tendencies (think Christian Grey) and she knows how to handle that and how to disengage from him afterwards. Raina's reasons will be elaborated upon later. We do not condone either side of this behavior.


	39. never mind how you've rationed your time and the battle is underway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second round of trivia ensues, complicated by the formation of a new team.

“I’ve never done this before,” admits Cessily, a bit nervously. “I’ll do my best!”

“I haven’t either,” replies Laura. “But I have acquired a variety of knowledge in the last ten years, traveling with Logan. Did you know that the human body contains an average of six quarts or 5.6 liters of blood?”

“Did _you_ know,” Raina cuts in, smiling in a way that’s either pleasant or dangerous, “the carbon removed from someone’s corpse could be used to make hundreds of pencils? Every time I hear it, the exact number changes, but I think it’s fascinating.”

Laura looks interested. “I had not heard that. Thank you.”

“Well!” Carina interjects, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Did you know 3 Musketeers bars used to have strawberry flavor in them?”

Nebula chuckles and runs her hand down Carina’s arm. “Well, that’s gross in a different way, I guess.”

Cessily’s making a face. “I can’t imagine that.”

“People have strange taste,” Lorelei shrugs, nibbling on a sweet potato fry.

For some reason, this makes Raina chuckle, and she stares out the window and runs a hand through her hair before she turns her attention to the others. “Where’s your other friend tonight?” she asks Carina and Nebula.

Shrugging, Nebula says, “She had a date or something. Didn’t ask too many questions. Didn’t care.”

“Well, that may or may not be more fun than whatever goes on here tonight,” Raina shrugs.

Laura’s been staring intently at Raina’s neck since she moved her hair, and now she asks, “What’s that bruise on the side of your neck? And there are popped blood vessels too. Were you aware of this? Those can cause serious health problems if you are unaware of them and they persist unattended.”

“I’m aware,” Raina says, almost serenely. “I’ve been applying ice and the appropriate gels.” She doesn’t yet answer the first question, though.

Scowling, Nebula grumbles, “That wasn’t what _I_ wanted to know about it.”

Raina blinks innocently. “What’s that?”

“Where it came from,” Nebula answers in her most exasperated voice.

“Oh.” Glancing around the room almost shyly, if anything she does could be considered shy, Raina says, “It was a boy.”

Immediately Carina goes tense.

Nebula hisses a breath. “Do I need to kill him?”

Laura also looks alarmed. “I know twenty-six ways to kill a person without leaving traces of an attack.” Next to her, Cessily’s eyes go wider than they already were.

A second later, Lance appears with a tray of chips and salsa and, with the practiced air of someone working in food service, asks casually, “What’s happening, then?”

“We were expressing concern over Raina’s recent interactions with a Nazi,” explains Laura.

“You don’t say?” Lance’s eyes flick over to the table of Hydra associates, and he glares at them for a moment before saying to Raina, “You don’t really seem the type to mix with them, love. Everything all right?”

“There’s a difference between mixing with _them_ -” Raina interrupts herself to roll her eyes toward the Hydra boys, utterly disdainful - “and mixing with one of them. I promise it’s nothing that I can’t handle, but if that changes you’ll all be the first to know.” Both because of their apparent willingness to go to battle on her behalf (or with her as an excuse) and because she’s oddly touched by that willingness but doesn’t know how to say it and wouldn’t want to even if she did.

Nebula relaxes a little, though she still looks bristly. Lance nods and goes about his business, having noticed Coulson and Fury heading for their usual table.

“I will keep an eye on him,” promises Laura.

The faintest sincere smile crosses Raina’s face before she turns and snuggles into Lorelei’s shoulder, a pretty clear sign that she’s done talking for now.

Lance stops in front of Coulson and Fury and, putting on his best waiter-face, says, “What can I get you gents?”

“Heineken,” says Fury.

“I’ll have the Cabernet Sauvignon,” Coulson says, and Lance only just manages to keep his lip from curling at how douchey that sounds.

“Right, I’ll be back with those.” Lance turns to go and hears Fury ask, “This isn’t going to run long, is it? I have things to do.”

Several minutes later, Melinda and Sif enter the restaurant, giggling (they’ve obviously pregamed), and slip into the table. Coulson does his best to look unperturbed. “Good to see you, Melinda.”

She smirks. “Hi, Phil.”

Lance returns with Coulson and Fury’s drinks, takes Melinda and Sif’s drink orders, then comes back with them, and by that time it’s about three minutes before the semi-official start time and Coulson’s furrowing his brow. “I wonder where the others are?”

“This’ll be an interesting challenge if they don’t show,” says Fury sardonically, taking a swig of his beer.

As if on cue, someone else appears: Anne Weaver, wearing a black-and-white striped shirt and slacks and strutting like a queen over to one of the unoccupied tables. Melinda raises an eyebrow at this; she knows Anne, she’s known Anne for years. Anne doesn’t seem the type to partake in something like this.

“Fitz?” Jemma whispers, gently nudging her friend and sounding for all the world like the most troubling thing has happened.

“Um, I believe I was talking to him,” says Skye, exaggerating an indignant face. “I _need_ to know how BB-8 could possibly be a practical effect!”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “For the last time, Skye, they’re going to release some explanation within the next six months, it’s practically guaranteed. You’re not the only one scrambling for an explanation. Jemma, what’s going on?”

“ _Look_ ,” Jemma hisses, nodding frantically in Anne’s direction.

Following her gesture, Fitz gapes. “What...what’s _she_ doing here?”

“I haven’t the slightest,” Jemma whispers. “I mean, it’s one thing to see… _mall_ adults here, but…”

“Wait, who’s this? Oh, that professor you have a thing for? Weird.” Skye cocks her head.

Trip, who’s been quiet listening to Skye’s diatribe about the new _Star Wars_ trailer, snorts. “You sure have patterns,” he says to Jemma with a smile.

Jemma huffs, taking a sip of her margarita to collect her thoughts. “I don’t need to explain myself,” she says as aloofly as she can manage. “But I _would_ like an explanation as to why Dr. Weaver is sitting at…” As she watches, Victoria and Isabelle wander into the restaurant, both looking like they have other things to be doing but this is for some reason important. It means that her voice gradually gets squeakier as she observes. “At a table with, with Victoria and her girlfriend.”

“You’re cute,” murmurs Skye, grabbing her hand. “But yeah, this is weird as hell. They are all way too cool to be here.”

“ _Hey!_ ” protests Trip good-naturedly. “I make this place cool just by gracing it with my presence.”

“Oh excuse me.” Skye rolls her eyes. “We’re all really cool. But like, in an ironic disaffected way. We should be the subject of a John Hughes movie.”

“Too heterosexual,” replies Fitz. “And about three decades too late.”

“Also, you and I are halfway the same stereotype,” Jemma says to him. “That might confuse audiences.”

“And I’m too black,” says Trip with a grin.

Concerned, Fitz starts making noises like he’s going to contradict him but is unsure how, and then Jemma jumps in, saying, “You’re no such thing! Being perfectly honest, you’re stunning, and I…” She makes a face. “I really didn’t mean that to come off like I was…”

Trip laughs. “No worries. I know I’m irresistable.” Fitz grumbles a bit but quiets down once Trip reaches over to rub his back. Then, after glancing around for a moment, Trip catches Carina’s eye across the room and calls, “Hey girl! How you doin’?”

Carina grins, shouting back, “More than good!” and raising her glass in his direction.

The table full of Hydra glares at this before shaking their heads at each other. “So where’s your little science pal, Ward?” asks Rumlow, and there’s a challenge in his voice.

“Couldn’t make it tonight,” says Ward smoothly. Too smoothly. That makes Rumlow happy.

“What’s the deal with those three chicks at that huge table?” one of their friends asks.

As if cued by that remark, the front door swings open and in come, from left to right, Mack, Bobbi, Maria, and Maya. Bobbi is just slightly in the lead, twirling a blue Sharpie in one hand; Maya is two steps behind the other three, making a face that’s half-intimidating and half-intimidated. Mack is nearly keeping pace with Bobbi, looking as if he dares anyone to say something, and Maria’s face is indecipherable.

“You can close your mouth now,” snarks Fitz to Jemma. “I wonder what that pen she’s twirling is for. Lucky pen, maybe.”

“Who has a lucky pen?” Skye asks with a snort.

“Lots of people,” retorts Fitz.

For a moment, it looks like they’ll be taking the expected seats at the Trivia Corps table, but they don’t pay it any mind (except Maria, who makes the slightest disdainful face in its direction) and instead go to join Anne, Victoria, and Isabelle, despite the fact that they’re some of the least likely people to associate with each other in most everyone else’s opinion.

Coulson blinks for a long moment, then turns to look at Melinda. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

Truthfully, Melinda shakes her head. “No idea.”

Fury snorts and says nothing. Sif eyes Melinda nervously and also says nothing.

“Isn’t it time to get going?” Maria calls out once their table is fully settled in.

“Yes, thank you,” replies Scott, ambling out and gesturing for silence. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. I’m Scott Summers and I’ll be your emcee for Trivia Night tonight. I’ll start the name sheets and answer sheets going around; those of you’ve been here before know the drill. Newcomers, please give your name sheets back within five minutes.”

Hydra converse intensely amongst themselves for a few minutes before writing something on their name sheet. Conversely, Bobbi and her team appear to need no time at all, passing it back to the edge of the table within thirty seconds of receiving it.

Scott reads off the names, which include new group Nippyfrost and Hydra’s attempts to rebrand themselves as Promise of the Champion. Lance snorts at that. Then he gets to Bobbi’s group, which call themselves the Rebel Alliance, and people seem unsure whether to look at Bobbi (wearing a black t-shirt with the Alliance symbol on it and smirking) or Coulson.

After explaining the rules, Scott reads off the first question. “From the list of foods which cause allergies in humans, which particular food product is (according to my ref. material) at the top of the list?”

Lance, from his spot at the table, snickers. He knows the answer to this question, and he knows it’s going to make the bunch at the corner table crack up.

Sure enough, there’s a round of giggles as Carina writes down the answer (nuts).

But while the other teams are deliberating, Lorelei leans in and murmurs, “I’m not just inventing the tension in the room out of a need for dramatics, am I?”

Laura shrugs. “I sense very little tension, except sexual tension. Those two,” she says, pointing at Maya and Maria, “are going to be having sex soon. They are flirting.”

“Good for them,” Lorelei says dismissively, “but I’m actually not talking about sex for once.”

“It has been kind of weird ever since Amazon and her posse showed up,” Nebula nods.

The next question - “What Catholic church official ranks just below Pope?” - baffles half of the room. But especially Coulson, who looks hopefully at the rest of his team (they stare back at him blankly) before glancing over at the Rebel Alliance. He’s surprised to see Isabelle whispering something to Maria, who writes it down while Victoria gazes at her proudly. Odd that Isabelle of all people would know the answer.

It’s not that he dislikes Victoria or her girlfriend, it’s just that...well, they’re kind of intimidating. And he’s pretty sure they don’t like him much. He’s not sure why - he’s never given them any reason to dislike him, as far as he knows. But still, they give off that vibe, so he steers clear of them out of both respect and self-preservation.

Sif nudges Melinda and murmurs, “What’s going on?” Melinda frowns apologetically at her and, taking the pen, scribbles “later” on a napkin and jerks her head at Coulson. Sif nods and seems content with that answer for the time being.

Deliberately ignoring the interpersonal conflict, Fury sips his beer and remains silent.

When Scott reads off the question “Imported into Europe for the first time by Dutch traders around 1610, what beverage was sold commercially for the first time in Britain around 1660?”, Fitz makes a noise of disgust. “Is this the kiddie version of trivia? Who doesn’t know this?”

“Well, it is trivia they’re aiming for drunk people to be able to answer,” Jemma snarks.

“Aw, it’s cute when you guys get all angry and British,” giggles Skye. “You’re like angry kittens.”

Fitz glares. “Now that’s just patronizing.”

“She’s trying to be nice, I think,” Jemma offers hopefully.

“I think you’re cute no matter what your mood is,” chimes in Trip, kissing Fitz on the cheek. While Fitz is making startled but happy noises, Trip glances around to see how the other teams are doing. Most of them seem to be writing down _something,_ although Lucky Bombshell are giggling so much it’s a wonder any of them can hold the pen. Coulson is looking beseechingly at Melinda, while Sif taps on the table with her pen nervously. Bobbi seems to have made “smug” her permanent expression for the evening.

Jemma looks out at the others too, frowning. “Do you think this -” she waves a hand around at the divided tables - “I mean, do you think it’s because of what happened last time?”

“Oh, duh,” replies Skye. “I mean, c’mon. Bobbi obviously got sick of Coulson’s micromanaging shit and made her own team. With the best name _ever_ , by the way. Er, second-best. We’re going to invite her to the Episode VII midnight screening, right?”

“I don’t blame her, I suppose, but it all seems a bit… dramatic,” Jemma mumbles. Then she really registers Skye’s question and instead of answering, settles for frantic nodding.

Skye grins. “Good.” Not that the drama isn’t interesting to her, but she’s personally _way_ more interested in bringing along a hot girl who can understand what she’s talking about when she tries to discuss the finer points of the canon. (She loves Jemma and Jemma is her girl, but Jemma just doesn’t get _Star Wars._ )

Chest of Drawers takes only a few moments to consult on the question about the age of three-star brandy, and though Garrett answers first, it looks as if two or three of the others had the answer too. “Five years,” says Garrett with a satisfied smile.

“Not like anybody else’ll get that.” Rumlow snorts. “This place barely serves beer. They’re too busy drinking girly drinks to pay attention to the good shit.”

Ward’s nodding along (truth be told, Garrett gave him three-star brandy a couple years back and he’d barely kept it down, but he’d die before he admitted that) and adds, “It’s not something they’d be able to handle anyway.”

The next question is one about listing London’s five major airports. Jupiter Phoenix seems to have it well under control, thanks to Jemma and Fitz, and Lucky Bombshell doesn’t seem particularly worried (Raina, Lance notices, seems to be able to list off every one of them without trouble, which confuses him), but Victoria can’t help but chuckle at the apparent confusion on the other teams’ faces. Not in a mean way, exactly, but - well. It makes a sort of sense.

“Anne, you probably know this, right?” asks Mack.

Anne nods over her old fashioned. “Heathrow, of course,” she begins, “Gatwick, Stansted, Luton, London City. Strictly speaking only the first and last are in London, but they’re all considered to be in the greater London area.”

“Do you think that’s what’s giving the other teams trouble?” Maya asks, though she’s smirking like she thinks that might not be the case.

Isabelle snorts.

“Well, if I know Coulson, asking him anything European might as well be asking him about quantum physics,” says Maria.

Victoria snorts too.

“And it’s the wrong kind of European to expect _those_ assholes to pick up on it,” Bobbi adds, nodding toward the Hydra table.

“I’m a bit surprised that there haven’t been managerial efforts to discourage a known violent hate group away from what’s intended as an innocent, potentially family-friendly activity,” Anne remarks, raising an eyebrow. “Or family-friendly within reason, I suppose.”

Mack rolls his eyes. “They’re paying customers, I guess. Sure doesn’t make me feel very welcomed.”

“We’ll just have to eviscerate them as well, then,” Anne says with a deceptively innocent shrug.

“If last time was any indication, that won’t be hard,” Maya offers.

Maria laughs. “They only know history questions. Piece of cake.”

“The kids don’t seem to be struggling too much,” Bobbi remarks, nodding to Jupiter Phoenix this time.

“Nah, they’re a smart bunch,” Mack replies.

“As… hard as they can be to deal with in large doses,” Victoria begins, “they do seem fairly competent. Most of the time.”

Isabelle squeezes her hand. “High praise, from you.”

The rest of the round goes by, and Scott reads off the answers at the end. Lance, keeping score, notices that there’s not a clear leader yet - they’re all within five points of each other, except Chest of Drawers (he refuses to call them anything else). He blinks at the sheets in confusion.

Then he notices that Coulson is giving another motivational speech to his team, and he pretends to be very interested in the table while eavesdropping. “The four of us can do this by ourselves, we’re doing really well! We don’t need anyone else. If they want to come back, we’ll let them, but we don’t need them. We’ve got this handled. You are all incredible and I believe in you.” The words are inclusive, but he’s gazing at Melinda the whole time.

Lance scowls. Though, deep down he feels like that’s a damn stirring speech, stupid as it is. He hates himself for admitting that.

The music round starts, and all goes well until the lyrics that start “I just wanna tell you how I’m feeling, gotta make you understand…” At which point the room erupts into chaos, between the shrieks of laughter and the impromptu sing-along.

Bobbi, between laughs, can’t help but peek over at the Trivia Corps table, where she’s unsurprised to see what can only be described as complete confusion all over Coulson’s face. “You’d think for a so-called trivia buff he’d be better at memes,” she whispers to Mack.

Mack stops bobbing his head to the beat and grins. “Bet I could hack into the mall PA system and play this.”

“You don’t even technically work there anymore,” Bobbi points out. “Which is to say, while I’m sure you could sneak in and pull that off, you could also do that at Best Buy. But I’m also thinking that maybe you’d be doing it at the mall precisely to avoid complications.”

“And because both you _and_ Coulson work there,” replies Mack, chuckling.

“I could get it on the mix for a class,” Isabelle volunteers. “It’d be funny to see who got it.”

“That is underhanded and I love it,” Bobbi declares.

Five seconds into one song, it seems like every table starts giggling at the instantly familiar hoarse vocals of the singer - “THIS TIME I’M MISTAKEN FOR HANDING YOU A HEART WORTH BREAKING” - before writing down the answer. Except Trivia Corps, whose members look mostly bewildered.

“I’ve heard this song before,” muses Coulson. “What is it?”

Melinda frowns. “It’s a terrible song.”

“Er…” says Sif. “I think I know what it’s called. Fandral used to play this CD constantly in high school…” She trails off when she realizes that not only is Coulson not listening, but he’s only paying attention to Melinda. Rolling her eyes, she glances at her phone.

The rest of the round goes normally, and by the end of it both the Rebel Alliance and Jupiter Phoenix are ahead of Trivia Corps. Skye’s beaming, and the others are looking pleased as well, while the Alliance members are projecting various shades of smug. Coulson visibly struggles to keep up his optimism, especially when the one that stumped him is listed as “How U Remind Me.” “I was right,” says Sif, loudly.

“If that’s how he’s been the whole time, I understand your decision to break off,” Anne mutters, glancing at Sif sympathetically.

“I think he’s gotten worse,” Bobbi says. “But that singlemindedness is the problem.”

Anne nods. “I don’t suppose Melinda and the other one could be tempted away?”

“Sif,” Maya supplies. “I’m pretty sure at this point she and Melinda are a two-for-one. You know. Triviawise. Because most of Sif’s people aren’t here.” She flushes and steals an apologetic glance at Maria.

“The answer is, not likely,” Victoria rolls her eyes. “Melinda is one of the most reasonable people in this mall, but she’s also admirably loyal to the point that it stops being admirable.”

“She certainly is. I guess there’s no accounting for taste,” replies Maria, smirking and rolling her eyes. Then she smiles at Maya, who’s still looking at her nervously.

As the next category, sports, is announced, Coulson beams. “We’ve got this!” he says to Melinda.

Sif coughs. “Yes, we do.”

“Dammit,” Carina says to the other members of Lucky Bombshell. “I think we got a grand total of one sports question last time.”

“We’ll manage,” Raina says airily.

“I know many things about boxing, cagefighting, gambling, and fisticuffs,” Laura chimes in. “But organized sports do not appeal to me.”

Scott reads off the first question: “What is the most powerful hand in poker?”

Laura smiles. “Oh! I know this. It’s a Royal Flush. Logan taught me poker years ago. He says I have a good poker face.”

Cessily chuckles. “Well, I think it’s a nice face either way,” she says shyly.

“Thank you. Your face is also nice.”

One member of Chest of Drawers says loudly, “This isn’t a sports question.”

Lance scowls and thinks, _Fight me, twats_ , but keeps quiet in the interests of not getting banished to the back.

“Do any of you know this?” Jemma asks, sounding rather frantic.

“Nope!” says Skye, grabbing the sheet and cheerfully scribbling down “Manos.”

“Oh my god,” groans Fitz. “ _Must_ you?”

“Hell, we’re not gonna get the point anyway. And it’s funny!”

Coulson frowns. “I don’t play poker. Melinda, do you know this?”

“Yes,” says Melinda. “I’d like to write it down.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Coulson surrenders the pen and paper. Melinda writes it down and says, “Royal flush.” Sif smirks.

“Anyone?” Maya asks her group.

“I almost wish I didn’t know this,” Bobbi mumbles, taking the pen and scribbling down the answer before looking over at Lance with no small measure of embarrassment.

Isabelle giggles. “Wasn’t Hunter an aspiring professional gambler at one point?”

“You know very well he was, he dropped out of _your_ guys’ college to pursue it,” Bobbi says in an accusatory tone, knowing that Isabelle’s mostly just phrasing it as a question to give shit.

“Ah, the follies of youth.” Isabelle sips her drink and gives Bobbi a shit-eating grin.

Chest of Drawers has been mostly fairly quiet, but when Scott asks the fifth question, their reactions are dramatic. “Which sports arena is the world's largest steel constructed room unobstructed by posts?”

“The fuck?” Rumlow shouts. “This isn’t sports!”

“This is architecture,” agrees Garrett. “I’m not Frank Lloyd Wright!”

Much as Coulson hates himself for it, he has to agree with them.

Skye, meanwhile, just makes a face at the question before declaring, “The Shatterdome,” and writing it down.

The final question for the round is “Who is the youngest female winner of the gold medal for women's figure skating?”

There are more groans from Chest of Drawers. “I mean, the costumes are hot, but you think I’m paying attention to that shit?” Ward grumbles.

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims in a whisper. “It’s the girl from last year, isn’t it? The tiny Russian girl? Yulia something.”

“Lipnitskaya,” replies Fitz. “She was quite something. Very impressive.”

Skye and Trip start giggling in unison.

“That’s a very respectable Russian surname!” says Fitz.

“I don’t think that’s why they’re laughing at us,” Jemma mutters.

“I think it’s cute,” Trip reassures them. “Never been an Olympics guy myself, but I can see the appeal.”

“Really it’s just the skating, for me,” Jemma says quickly. “It’s this interesting balance of technicality and art, you know.”

Skye squeaks (the drink is starting to get to her). “You are so cute,” she murmurs, leaning over to nuzzle Jemma’s hair. “You’re the cutest nerd in the whole world.”

Once again, Raina is feeding Carina the answer, carefully spelling out the name and looking very satisfied with herself.

“You know such random shit,” says Nebula, not unkindly.

Raina shrugs. There’s no answer beyond that.

Over at Trivia Corps, everyone but Sif is looking blank. “I do not watch the fucking Olympics,” says Fury.

“I actually know this,” says Sif, “but I can’t remember how to spell her name…” She attempts to write down several variations of the name, growing more and more flustered as they come out wrong. “It’s Russian,” she mumbles apologetically.

Melinda gives her a faint, gentle smile. “Russians have terrible names,” she says.

“I feel bad for laughing,” Bobbi murmurs.

“But it’s so funny,” snickers Maria.

“This really hasn’t been Coulson’s sports round,” Victoria observes, looking like she’d be about to crack up if she did that.

Isabelle, smirking, says, “The answer is Yulia Lipnitskaya, by the way.”

Lance collects the papers a few minutes later and tallies them, sighing when he reads down Lucky Bombshell’s list of obscene and ridiculous answers. Then, with a beleaguered expression, he hands the papers to Scott.

Scott looks them over before announcing, “The winners of that round are the Rebel Alliance!”

Trying not to gloat too much, Bobbi high-fives the rest of her team.

“What?” Coulson’s mouth is hanging open. “How?”

“Dumb luck, obviously,” mutters Rumlow to the rest of his team.

The history round begins, and Mack nudges Isabelle after Scott’s finished reading the first question. “Check out the Nazis,” he murmurs.

Isabelle glances over and narrows her eyes when she sees Chest of Drawers whispering amongst themselves intensely. “Of _course_ they’re getting all these answers,” she snorts.

“Bloody disgusting,” Anne agrees.

One of the questions, “How tall was Abraham Lincoln?”, prompts a round of eyerolling and disgusted noises from Chest of Drawers. “It’s 6’4”,” says Garrett sourly.

“He was gay, probably, you know,” adds a thin-faced man with a scar above his eyebrow. This prompts another round of faces.

“Holy shit,” Victoria mutters, overhearing and very clearly seeing this.

Maria groans. “They’re not even trying to hide it.”

Over at Lucky Bombshell’s table, Laura tilts her head questioningly and asks, “Raina, why did you sleep with him? He and his friends are bad men.”

“I’m completely aware of that,” Raina sighs, keeping her head still as if moving is too much work and gazing steadily out the window. “I’ll explain later, but that’s sort of the point.”

Laura blinks. “All right. I assume you do not wish to be bothered about it further.”

“Thank you,” Raina says, softer than she intends.

Coulson is eagerly writing down the answer. “Lincoln’s my favorite president,” he says, mostly to Melinda.

“Wonderful,” replies Fury dryly.

Blinking, Sif says, “I didn’t know we were supposed to have favorite presidents.”

“Some people do,” says Melinda with a shrug.

Trip tells Jemma the answer and then explains, “In high school I ended up dressing up as him for a class project. The one other guy in our group was only like 5’7”.” He grins. “I delivered a hell of a Gettysburg Address though.”

“I’m sure you did,” says Fitz warmly, squeezing his hand.

“And I get the feeling those guys over there would’ve rather played the slave owners,” adds Trip with a grin, gesturing to Chest of Drawers.

Skye giggles. “Totally. I dunno why they bother coming, they don’t know much about anything after, y’know, suffrage and civil rights.”

The next question causes Trivia Corps to begin a fervid discussion. “Who was the first person to suggest Daylight Savings Time?”

The Rebel Alliance stare at each other quizzically. “I haven’t the faintest idea who that is,” says Maria with a shrug.

Meanwhile Coulson looks triumphant, and the rest of his team looks...not exasperated, which is something.

When the papers for the photo-identification round are passed around, Carina takes one look at the collection (largely cartoon characters this time) and says, “I… think something is missing.”

“Hey!” yells Nebula. “You said they were all blue, dumbass! They’re in black and white!”

“Use your imagination,” sighs Scott.

Skye, who’s commandeered the pen for this round, gleefully yells “SPOOOOOOOOOOON!” when she spots the square with a picture of The Tick.

“That’s not Tommy Wiseau,” Jemma frowns.

That makes Skye giggle even more. “No, it’s The Tick’s battlecry. I need to make you watch that sometime.”

“Great show,” Trip nods.

Fitz blinks. “What the hell are any of you talking about?”

“I keep telling you you need to let us show you _The Room_ ,” Jemma says. “If just so you understand moments like this.”

“Must I?”

Skye nods. “Yes. It’s an important cinematic experience.”

The entertainment round seems to be a crapshoot, between Skye’s eagerly rattling off the answer to every question and the Rebel Alliance conferring and seeming confident about their answers. Coulson just looks more and more baffled.

Every table looks lost at the final question. “List ten winners of the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes, and Belmont Stakes, more commonly known as the Triple Crown?”

Then Melinda glances at Sif and asks, “You know about horses, don’t you?”

Sif nods. “I do. Sir Barton, Affirmed, War Admiral, Secretariat, Seattle Slew, Gallant Fox, Omaha, Whirlaway...Citation...and…” She pauses to think. “Assault, I think. They’re hard to keep track of.”

While Coulson’s frantically writing down names, Melinda gives Sif a smile. “Well done.”

Fury, who’s been watching all of this, frowns. He’s not sure what to make of this.

Lucky Bombshell, meanwhile, have devoted themselves to giving the names of pornstars as answers, since none of them have any idea of the actual answers. Carina is blushing, but dutifully writing them down. Jupiter Phoenix and the Rebel Alliance can at least fill in War Admiral and Secretariat, because both Skye and Maya have seen _Seabiscuit_ and _Secretariat_. Chest of Drawers writes in mostly bullshit answers.

Once Lance has tallied up the scores (putting his head in his hands when he reads Lucky Bombshell’s sheet), he hands the sheets to Scott, who, after glancing over them for a moment, asks absentmindedly, “What’s a Jiz Lee?”

Jemma rather drunkenly bursts out laughing; Raina and Lorelei look very smug; Bobbi cringes. She’s not entirely sure what her ex’s porn habit has to do with horse racing, but she is sure she doesn’t want to know.

Glumly, Lance takes a larger swig of his drink than usual, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Scott coughs awkwardly, then announces, “Well, anyhow, the third place winners of tonight’s game are...Jupiter Phoenix! Second place...Trivia Corps! And the top winners this week are...the Rebel Alliance!”

This time, Jemma bursts out frantically applauding and Skye whoops in delight for a minute, but when Jemma continues to clap she nudges her with her shoulder and murmurs playfully, “Excited?”

Coulson’s pouting and doing a poor job of covering it up. “I have to go,” he says. “I have something to do.”

“At eleven PM?” Sif asks, raising her eyebrow.

“Yes.” He gets up and leaves without further explanation.

Rolling his eyes, Fury slides out of the booth. “See you all later, I guess.”


	40. I hold on to worry so tight, it's safe in here right next to my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen Page, who works in the administration office of the mall, tries to get to know her new coworker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irani Rael is referred to in the movie as Nova Prime, in case you're wondering.

Normally Karen gets to take her lunch outside of the office. She goes to get a sandwich in the food court or, if it’s a slow day, she heads across the street to Applebee’s. She usually spends lunch texting Foggy, sure, but it’s still a change of scenery. Today, she’s not so lucky: Garth, who usually comes out of his office to cover her lunches, called in sick. (Or “sick” - she has her doubts.) This means that she’s left eating her crummy pizza at her desk just in case the phone rings and it’s someone who’s too important to leave a message.

And… still texting Foggy, because honestly, her life can be divided into three categories: sleeping, being around Foggy, and texting Foggy.

He’s been on a “telling bad jokes” kick lately (it’s been a slow week at work for him, she figures; not a lot that needs to be done in a school office when it’s too early for finals and too late to switch classes) and he sends her one that’s actually about puns, sort of, that is silly and random and not-gross enough to make her laugh out loud, wildly enough that when the office door opens her first reaction is to try to compose herself and act like nothing is off.

“Hey,” Kara says shyly, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” Karen says with a smile. She’s trying to be as polite to her new coworker as she can in hopes that it will eventually segue into friendship.

“What were you laughing at?” Kara asks, setting her takeout container on the beat-up coffee table and sitting down.

“Oh, it’s just a joke, my roommate just texted it to me. It’s like…” She shrugs and reads the text aloud. “So when I was younger I used to submit puns to Boy's Life magazine, because they'd pay you if they published your joke. I sent like ten puns to them per year, hoping at least some of them would get published, but no pun in ten did.”

Kara snickers behind her hand.

“Kinda dumb, right?” Karen asks.

“Kinda, but it’s endearing,” Kara shrugs. She takes a sip of her bottled water, then sits back with her lunch like she’s expecting the conversation to end there.

The thing is, though, Kara’s still new here, and she’s never mentioned friends or anyone in passing or said that she’s got interesting plans after work. Maybe she’s just private, but Karen knows from experience that it might just be loneliness. Moving can be rough, after all, but it’s easier if you get some people in your corner.

So, she continues to offer. “Hey,” she says. “I know why I’m eating back here, I’m savin’ Garth’s ass by doin’ lunchtime phone duty while he goes and flies his dumb plane or whatever it is he does with his spare time. What about you?”

“I usually eat in here,” Kara explains. “Or, that’s what I’ve been doing so far.”

Karen nods sympathetically. “Haven’t made many friends yet?” she asks.

“I’d… rather not be around that many people,” Kara mumbles, fidgeting with her hair.

It suddenly occurs to Karen that Kara’s shyness might have something to do with the relatively new-looking scar on the left side of her face, and she spends half a minute worrying about seeming like a jerk for saying anything before she decides to go for an abrupt subject change. “So!” she exclaims, eager as she can. “How about that new mattress store, huh?”

Well, it’s not really distinctly _new_ to Kara, considering it’s been here longer than she has, but Mattress Firm did, in fact, move into the space that RadioShack vacated, and that’s about the only gossip Karen can think of that doesn’t have to do with people that Kara probably doesn’t know yet.

“It’s all right,” Kara agrees. She talks like she’s measuring her words very carefully. “I needed a new mattress when I got here, so it was pretty convenient.”

“I’m glad,” Karen smiles. “How are you liking it here?”

“Remind me the next time I get it in my head to do a bit of shopping that slow-moving packs of shrieking idiots that block the aisles are the bane of my existence,” calls Irani, striding in with a dramatic eyeroll.

“That’s like hittin’ the annoying customer bingo,” Karen chirps. “Did they leave trash in their wake, too? That’d be _really_ perfect.”

“Blessedly, no. But they _did_ loiter for the entire five minutes I attempted to slip past them in front of Sephora, discussing their various romantic woes.” Irani sighs. “I suppose it serves me right for leaving the sanctuary of this office. You have the right idea,” she adds, smiling at Kara.

Kara’s eyes go wide a minute and she bites her lip. “Maybe, yeah,” she says.

“Anyhow. Enough about my unfortunate encounters. Karen, how are your boys?”

Karen rolls her eyes fondly. “I assume you mean, have they blown up the house or managed to break anything valuable recently?” She shrugs. “Nah, they’re in one piece. So’s the house.”

“Your… boys?” Kara asks.

“Ms. Page has a somewhat nontraditional living arrangement with two young men who currently attend law school,” explains Irani. “As I understand it, they are generally prone to harebrained schemes and physical injuries.”

“I don’t know what’s nontraditional about it!” Karen exclaims, putting on a fake pout. “They needed a roommate, I needed a place to live. It’s not like we all sleep in a pile on the floor. Well, most of the time,” she adds, just to see Kara’s confused expression.

“That, ah…”

“Relax, I’m just messin’ around,” Karen laughs. “They’re cool, and they’re a lot of fun. You should come over sometime, we could get movies or whatever you wanted to do.”

Kara touches her hair again, frowning very intently at her lunch. “I… maybe,” she finally says.

Then they’re interrupted by another new arrival, this one less welcome. “How are you ladies doing on this fine afternoon?” calls Tony, ambling in to lean on Karen’s desk.

“Hello, Mr. Stark.” Irani sounds as if she’s barely holding back her disdain.

“I just stopped in to file a complaint, or really, more of a comment, that involves the temperature of this establishment. You know, what with the coming of spring and all it’s gotten quite a bit warmer in here than usual, I’m sure you’ve noticed, and really I was just wondering, is it hot in here or is it just you?” This is directed at Karen, along with his best charming playboy smile.

Karen’s heard worse lines, but that doesn’t mean she’s in the mood for them. Her response is a roll of her eyes, nothing more.

“If you have nothing better to do than harass my employees, Mr. Stark, I suggest you go find something else to occupy your time before I put in a call to your father.” Irani’s hand is resting on her desk phone.

Tony raises his hands. “Okay, okay, I’m out. Just one more question...does the dress code change with the weather? Cause I have a few small suggestions…”

Kara sets her chopsticks down and looks up to glare at Tony. “Leave,” she all-but-growls.

He does, trying not to let them see how startled he is.

Raising her eyebrows, Irani glances at Karen. Karen just shrugs, equally taken aback.

After a long moment of near-silence, the phone rings shrilly. “Rhomann, would you get that?” calls Irani, too loudly.

Rhomann, whose desk is in the far corner of the office, scurries over to Irani’s desk to grab the phone and yelp, “Hello, Customer Service Department!” into the receiver.

“You know, I could’ve gotten that,” Karen says sheepishly.

Irani shrugs. “It’s fine.” Then she adds, “On a completely different topic, I understand some working environments involve extracurricular outings. Might the two of you be interested in pedicures at some point?”


	41. I can't change you when you won't change yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions escalate in this round of trivia, as there are some newcomers and some teams have better success working together than others; the aftermath of Raina's most recent sexual exploits is discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: injuries resulting from handcuffs.

“...so you see, Coulson started managing the entire group and Bobbi decided to hell with that, and started her own,” Fitz finishes.

Gwen’s eyes widen. “And here I thought the lab had drama.”

“Yeah, this makes the Bugle look like a functional work environment,” jokes Peter.

“Luckily, this isn’t where any of us work,” Jemma says with a roll of her eyes. “The Applebee’s, I mean. Excepting Hunter, I suppose, he technically works here.”

The door opens, and Thor, Jane, and Hogun enter, heading for Coulson’s table. “Oh, I guess somebody showed up after all,” says Skye with a grin.

“It kinda makes sense,” says Trip. “They’re Sif’s friends.”

Sif grins as they sit down. “I’m glad you could make it,” she says. “We will be victorious!” She immediately glances over at Melinda, as if to make sure her enthusiasm is well-received, and is rewarded with a small smile.

“We’re glad to help out,” Jane says, looking to Thor for more reassurance. (She’s here for his and Sif’s sakes pretty much entirely; she’s had a grudge against Coulson since he confiscated some _technically_ dangerous but perfectly safely-stored samples she was just transferring from school to a class project.)

Hogun offers the faintest of smiles. “It will be interesting.”

Heimdall enters the Applebee’s, prompting Jane to nudge Sif and say, “I didn’t know you’d convinced him to come, too.”

“I didn’t,” says Sif, tilting her head.

It becomes clear what’s going on when Heimdall sits down at the table next to Victoria and Isabelle, nodding fondly at the former.

“Oh,” Jane says faintly.

“Et tu, Heimdall?” calls Sif. “Never figured you for a traitor.”

Heimdall chuckles. “You are very loyal, Sif. As am I, in my own way. I could not be loyal to one who would seek to manage me.”

Laughing in disbelief, Sif replies, “I ll be the judge of who’s doing that, I think.” Though secretly she agrees with him.

“I’m so glad we’re spared any attempts at _talking smack_ ,” Victoria says to Isabelle

“I’m not bad at it, when the subject arises,” replies Isabelle, “but I’d just as soon not.”

Coulson finally appears, giving a perfunctory nod to the newest team members before sitting down. Next to him, the corner of Melinda’s mouth turns downward just slightly.

Just after him, Fury wanders in, looking generally done with everything. “Thor, Sif, Hogun,” he grunts.

Anne Weaver and Hank McCoy take their places at the table with the rest of the Rebel Alliance, and Gwen can’t help but gasp. “Dr. McCoy! and Dr. Weaver! This is serious.” Peter nods, eyes wide.

Akela, who’s been quiet since she arrived, tilts her head. “I wouldn’t have expected to see her here.”

“I’m still not entirely sure why she’s personally concerned with showing up a grandiose mall cop,” Jemma shrugs, sipping her drink, “but it’s… nice to see her outside of school.”

“Did you think she was stuck there like a ghost?” teases Skye.

‘No,” Jemma retorts. “I just… I’m glad she’s…”

“You're staring. You have the hots for her.” Skye bumps Jemma with her shoulder. “You like staring at her.”

Fitz is making a face like he smells something awful. “Oh look, Bobbi and Mack are here,” he says, blatantly changing the subject.

And so they are, Bobbi grinning and reaching to shake Hank’s hand before she sits down. “I’m told this event can get rather exciting,” says Hank. “It seemed a better option than continuing with the endless drudgery of grading papers.”

“The high likelihood of winning doesn’t hurt either,” Bobbi quips.

There’s a sudden commotion near the entrance: Maria and Maya are standing there with several Hydra members, Maria poking the chest of a barrel-chested one and growling, “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s okay, Maria,” Maya mumbles, rolling her eyes.

“No it’s not!” protests Maria. “You _will_ apologize to her.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ve got ten thousand volts right here with your name on it.” Maria’s hand drifts down to her jacket pocket, ghosting over a telltale lump.

Coulson frowns. “She’s not supposed to take that off mall premises.”

“Hell yeah!” Darcy calls from the Lucky Bombshell table. “Do it, Officer Mom!”

“As funny as it would be an’ all, probably not the best idea,” says Rogue, putting her hand on Darcy’s arm.

Darcy sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine, ruin the fun,” she says.

Skye catches Darcy’s eye and mouths _Ugh_ , jerking her thumb towards the Nazi table. _If Hill doesn’t tase them, I will_ , Darcy mouths back.

Besides Nebula and Carina, the other members of Lucky Bombshell still haven’t arrived, and Nebula is taking this opportunity to casually play with her butterfly knife while glaring at Chest of Drawers’ table. Once Maria starts arguing with them, Nebula shifts her attention and her movements become more deliberate as an unsettling grin creeps over her face.

Carina, on the other hand, is frowning. “I’m starting to worry,” she says as she watches Maria and Maya take their seats and greet their teammates. “Where _are_ they?”

Darcy shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know them as well as you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they just got bored,” she says.

“No, they said they were going to be here!” Carina pouts. “I’m just… Raina’s been so off lately. More off than usual. And last time we were here, that…”

Nebula rolls her eyes and puts her hand on Carina’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. They’ll be here. Hey, speaking of.” She points toward the entrance, where Lorelei and Raina have just come in. Lorelei’s hair is oddly disheveled, and she and Raina are wearing identical smug expressions. “I see they were fucking,” Nebula snarks.

Lance, showing uncharacteristic concern, makes a beeline for the two of them and escorts them to Lucky Bombshell’s table. Partially out of an interest in Lorelei, but he can also see bandages on Raina’s wrists and since he knows some of Ward’s reputation, he’s concerned for her. “How are we doin’ tonight, ladies?” he asks. “Everything...all right?” He looks blatantly at Raina’s wrists as he asks the question.

Raina smiles placidly, staring directly at the Hydra table for a moment before looking Lance in the eye. “No damage that’s going to last,” she says with some of her eerie calm.

“D’you, uh...d’you want me to give _him_ some lasting damage?”

Lorelei smirks. “That won’t be necessary,” she murmurs, reaching for Lance’s hand, “but thank you for your concern. Sweetness like that could be rewarded.”

“What the fuck is going on over there,” Bobbi halfway-asks, watching this exchange with a mix of horror and fascination.

Chuckling, Lance shakes his head. “It’s a great offer, darlin’, but it seems like you’re needed elsewhere.” He glances at Raina’s wrists.

“What are gal pals for,” Darcy interjects with a smile.

As Lance turns to leave, Nebula hisses, “The _fuck_?”

Raina glances back to the Hydra table. “Well, it’s over, I feel safe telling you now,” she stage-whispers. “A certain prominently-cheekboned someone plays neither safe nor sane and only dubiously consensually.”

Carina’s eyes go wide. “Did he…”

“I won’t alarm you with the messy details,” Raina says. “I knew what I was doing and these are the worst of it.” She holds up her wrists. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“What… what…” Carina stops herself from reaching for Raina’s hand, but only just.

“Improper handcuff usage,” Raina explains.

“That’s disgusting,” Darcy says. “Dude, I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse to play dangerously.”

Meanwhile, Rumlow nudges Ward. “Why do those weird girls keep staring at you?”

“Huh? Oh.” Ward shrugs. “I had a thing going with the flowers one. She couldn’t handle me.”

Rumlow rolls his eyes. “You know fucking Skye’s sister isn’t the best way to get to fuck Skye, right?”

“Please. Like _you’ve_ never had something on the side.”

Scott walks out from the back room and calls, “Okay, everyone! We’re gonna get started! I’m Scott Summers, your emcee.” He begins to explain the rules and pass out the sheets.

Thor tilts his head. “This has many more rules than the trivia games I have attended previously. There, we were merely expected to shout the answers.”

“Yes,” says Sif. “I miss those sometimes. This is fun, but much too quiet.” She grins. “I enjoyed screaming the answers over everyone else.”

“Hooligans,” Jane admonishes, rolling her eyes fondly.

The first general question Scott reads is, “What was the full name of the founder of J.C. Penney? Both names must be written down, no half-credit for first name only.”

Skye snorts. “Yeah, we’re not getting this.” She grabs the sheet and scribbles _Jesus Christ_.

“James Cash,” Victoria mutters to her group. “Which I only remember because somebody giving their child the middle name ‘Cash’ when their last name was already ‘Penney’ is moronic.”

Maria makes a face. “That’s awful.”

“I’ve heard stupider names,” Bobbi shrugs, looking pointedly in her ex’s direction.

Fury mutters the name in Coulson’s direction, who writes it down. Maria, noticing this, smirks and sends Fury a text: _did you know him personally, grandpa?_ Fury glances at his phone and then glares at her.

“This hasn’t exactly indicated anyone as being completely hopeless,” Anne observes. “But it’s only one question. Setting a mediocre tone for the questions to come.”

“In Japanese, Chinese, and Korean cultures, the number four is considered unlucky. Why?” Scott asks.

Chest of Drawers groans almost in unison. “This isn’t fucking fair,” grumbles Garrett. “How are we supposed to know that shit?”

“It’s because the word _shi_ means both ‘four’ and ‘death,’” explains Melinda to her team, smirking. “Cultural superstitions are a bit ridiculous.”

“I think it’s very interesting!” says Sif, smiling at her. Then she catches Thor making an exaggerated moony face at her and flips him off under the table.

Bobbi takes the pen to scribble her answer down, and Mack comments, while glancing around at the other teams, “I know why you know this, and May, but I’m not sure why Raina does.”

“Who knows why Raina knows any of the stuff she knows,” replies Maria with a chuckle. “She’s a mystery.”

Akela’s writing the answer down, while Skye frowns. “I feel like I _should_ know this, but the only Chinese I know is cussing, and most of what I know is from _Mulan_. Maybe I’ll ask my mom when we go.”

“Do you want me to remind you?” Jemma asks. “Since… you know. Random trivia detail. And we’re drinking. I can write it down that you wanted to know?”

“You’re adorable,” says Skye, kissing her cheek. “If you wanna. It’s not really important.”

Jemma blushes at the compliment, then pulls her phone out to make a note, just in case.

The next few questions go fairly well, with most groups writing at least something down, and the final question is “What substance is the sweetest on earth, at more than 200,000 times sweeter than table sugar?”

“Goddammit, Ward, where’s your science friend?” growls Rumlow. The rest of Chest of Drawers looks helpless.

“Lugduname,” Jemma whisper-shouts.

“You beat me to it!” whines Fitz, looking genuinely hurt. He glances over at Gwen and Peter for sympathy, but they’re too busy kissing to notice. Trip, seeing his distress, puts his arm around him.

Akela’s eyes are wide. “I feel as if I’m in a cartoon.”

“It’s normal,” Darcy says, leaning so Akela might hear her better. This is another one of the questions that of their group only Raina seems to know, so the rest of Lucky Bombshell is pretty much just eavesdropping on their peers.

“It’s lugduname,” Maya says to Bobbi. “L-u-... hell, you don’t need me to spell it for you, you know what I’m talking about.” Bobbi chuckles, and to prove it she’s already writing.

Maria smiles at Maya. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Maya ducks her head to hide her smile (it doesn’t work).

In the music round, the first song involves a screaming male voice going on about “SUFFOCATION NO BREATHING” and everyone looks perturbed. “He should see someone about that,” jokes Gwen.

“I’m not sure how he can sing about it if he can’t breathe, but whatever,” Jemma says with a _very_ tipsy sort of shrug. (Also her use of the word “whatever” pretty well indicates her intoxication.)

“Papa Roach is awesome,” comments one Nazi as Ward writes the answer down.

The next song is “Bring Me To Life,” which everyone either immediately recognizes and looks embarrassed about or appears to be frantically trying to place. “Y’know, in the Kidz Bop version someone forgets the words and literally just fucking goes RUFF,” comments Skye with a grin.

“I love dogs,” Darcy all but moans, leaning all the way into the aisle. “I’ve always loved dogs.”

Skye’s laughter in response is nearly hysterical.

“Is this the shopping mall punk music round?” Raina asks with distaste, idly rubbing her wrist. After a moment she says to Carina, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Carina replies, and this time she really does lay a hand over Raina’s. “You should stop fussing so the wound doesn’t get aggravated, okay?”

“Okay,” Raina says, seeming for a split second genuinely confused by Carina’s giving a damn.

“The younger generation,” Anne says to Hank, shrugging.

Hank laughs. “I’m not sure our generation necessarily had better taste in music, truth be told.”

The next song clip, which begins “Thinkin' of you's workin' up an appetite, looking forward to a little afternoon delight,” makes Skye giggle and say, “Afternoon Delight was more adult-themed than its innocent melody would have you believe.”

“Yeah, your generation isn’t looking so great about now,” Bobbi says smugly.

“I believe this song first charted in 1976, at which point I was less than a year old and Anne was but a twinkle in her parents’ eyes,” Hank replies. “We cannot be blamed for the poor taste of our elders.”

“I’m pretty sure Nazis had something to do with this,” says Mack, his head in his hands.

“I loved this song as a boy,” says Garrett to the rest of his team.

At the end of the round, as Scott reads off the answers, Nebula watches the other teams celebrating and snarks, “Nazi Squad didn’t do that bad.”

“It makes sense,” Lorelei remarks. “They’re shit, the music was shit.”

Trivia Corps are mostly watching the Rebel Alliance nervously. The Alliance members look generally smug. “Well, they seem to have done alright for themselves,” says Coulson. His smile looks strained.

“Just wait until the sports round!” Sif calls to Heimdall. “You’ve never even watched a game on TV, have you?”

“Not willingly,” replies Heimdall with a laugh. “We shall see how this turns out.”

Darcy grabs a spare answer sheet and scribbles on it before folding it into a paper airplane and sailing it over to Skye. After unfolding it and reading it, Skye calls back, “You stuck-up half-witted scruffy-looking nerf herder!”

Darcy sticks her tongue out, but she’s just fucking around and that much is clear; Rogue and Jemma exchange amused glances.

The sports round starts up, beginning with the question, “In the history of Major League Baseball, how many perfect games have there been?”

“The answer is eighteen,” says Hogun quietly.

“Thank you,” replies Coulson as he writes it down.

There are snickers from Lucky Bombshell as they write down 69. The members of Jupiter Phoenix are practically falling over themselves to write 42, since they don’t have a hope of getting it right anyway.

“Fuck if I know,” says Rumlow. “So Ward, what were you saying earlier about that new chick at the mall?”

“Kara? Yeah, she’s cute. I gave her my number earlier today.” Ward shrugs. “After the thing with Flowers didn’t work out, I thought maybe I’d try for something a little different.”

“If by different you mean fucked up,” says one of his teammates. “You’ve seen her face, right? Like, _all_ of her face?”

Ward rolls his eyes. “You have to look _past_ that. The insecure ones, the ones who don’t get this kind of attention? They’re way more likely to agree to anything.”

Smiling, Garrett nods. “Brilliant.”

They’ve all been speaking somewhat quietly, since Ward knows that if Raina or any of the other, more aggressive girls hears them, he’ll get an earful. He’s relieved to see that she seems to be talking intensely with the hot redhead. He can’t remember her name since she made him call her Mistress, and it doesn’t seem important to learn it now.

Rumlow catches him staring and says, “Don’t tell me you’re gunning for a repeat performance.”

“Maybe,” he replies casually. “It’d be two more than you’ve gotten from her.”

Scott’s next question is “What is the technical term for the birdie in badminton?”

“Shuttlecock,” Jemma whispers. “I don’t know why I know this.”

Skye giggles and repeats, “ _Cock_.”

“You might’ve read it somewhere?” suggests Trip. “I know I have a bunch of weird shit in my head that just comes from having read it randomly.”

“I’m pretty sure like half of the things I know come from just reading,” says Peter.

Melinda and Sif, of course, know the answer. “If I never hear another person laughing about that word, it will be too soon,” mutters Melinda.

Thor gets very excited about the next question - “What football team was the first to put a logo on their helmets?” - and he and Sif say “Los Angeles Rams!” at the same time, in almost-too-loud voices. Hogun rolls his eyes and smiles at them.

“Still not used to quiet trivia, I see,” Jane teases.

Sif shrugs. “If I say it quietly, _he’l_ l get credit.” She elbows Thor, who returns it with a grin.

Coulson glances at Fury, eyes wide. Fury gives him a _motherfucker, what do you expect me to do?_ look.

Over at the Rebel Alliance table, the more overtly academically-minded team members are looking at Bobbi and Maria and Isabelle, the usual go-tos for sports, but all three of them are shrugging helplessly. “I know how to play football, I don’t know about their damn helmets except that they really ought to wear them,” Bobbi says.

“There aren’t hot girls, so I don’t care,” Isabelle says cavalierly.

Hank raises a finger. “I actually know this. I read a fascinating book on the history of the sport once. The Los Angeles Rams were the first, in 1948, I believe.”

Anne can’t help but smirk.

“What have sixty eight percent of hockey players lost at least one of?” asks Scott.

“Oh, crud,” Carina mutters, preemptively surrendering her pencil to Lorelei.

“Well, I’m just guessing, but it is a very violent sport,” Lorelei says, writing down “testicle” with a serene smile. Darcy and Rogue giggle.

Gwen’s snickering as she suggests, “An academic debate?” to Trip, who’s holding the pen at the moment.

“Probably not inaccurate,” he says, grinning as he writes it down.

The members of Chest of Drawers keep glancing nervously at Trivia Corps and the Rebel Alliance. “I don’t suppose anybody knows this?” asks Ward, and is met with silence.

After a moment, someone asks, “...hockey games?”

Garrett snorts. “So the other thirty two percent have won every game they ever played?” he asks with a sneer.

Ward flinches.

When the history round starts up, Chest of Drawers looks much more confident. Until, that is, the first question. “Black History Month started as Negro History Week on February 12, 1926,” says Scott, looking mildly embarrassed about saying the original name. “Why did founder Carter G. Woodson designate that week?”

“Hey, I know this!” says Trip with a grin. “It’s ‘cause it lines up with both Frederick Douglass and Abe Lincoln’s birthdays.”

Fitz sighs and nestles into Trip’s side. “Are you all jealous of me yet?”

“Alright, fine, if we say yes will you stop bragging about how perfect Trip is all the time?” groans Gwen, but she’s grinning.

“Aw, you brag about me? That’s so cute.” Trip kisses Fitz on the cheek, which makes Fitz squeak happily.

Bobbi reaches for the pen, twirling it a couple of times as she explains, “Frederick Douglass’ and Abraham Lincoln’s birthdays. Convenient when things work out like that, I guess.”

“I think this one has the Nazis spooked,” Victoria chuckles, nodding at the Chest of Drawers table.

Rumlow is grumbling about how “this is PC bullshit, this is rigged,” and Garrett’s glaring in Scott’s general direction.

Their luck doesn’t improve with the next question: “Name the three sub-tribes of the Blackfoot Indian tribe.”

“Fuck me,” says Grant Ward cheerfully.

Garrett writes something down, looking defeated.

“I’m going to partially blame my not knowing this on the cultural slant of the American education system,” Maya says halfheartedly. “Anyone?”

Mack shrugs. “I think I remember one of them being the Siksika, but I’ve got no clue about the other two. Sorry.”

“Hell, it’s more than I know.” Maria frowns.

“Shit,” Jemma says, sounding distinctly alarmed.

Fitz’s ears are turning red. “I’d like to blame the education system as well,” he mumbles.

Coulson also looks embarrassed, but like he’s annoyed about his embarrassment.

Scott, miraculously sensing the discomfort in the room, quickly moves on. “What was the dominant social and political ideology during Korea’s Yi dynasty?”

“Oh _come on_!” Chest of Drawers looks about two seconds from rioting.

“Confucianism,” Victoria says quietly, nodding as Maya writes it down. When she looks around, she sees that the non-Hydra tables are writing down answers, guided by, respectively, Darcy and Hogun and Akela, and she figures that makes sense because it’s not exactly a difficult question.

One question doesn’t make the Nazis balk: “Which country was the first to adopt Daylight Saving Time?” The answer is Germany, which their triumphant smirks make obvious.

“That’s predictable,” sighs Mack.

They’re not looking so smug at the next question, though. “What is the supposed landing site of Noah’s Ark? Place name and country needed.”

“I actually know this,” says Skye, frowning in concentration. “Or I did. It’s in Turkey, it’s a mountain. Mount...Ar...Arar…”

“Ararat?” asks Akela.

“Yeah!” Skye grins. “That year of Catholic school is finally good for something!”

“Yes, my grandparents were very insistent on my learning what they felt were essential parts of history.” Akela makes a face.

Isabelle says the answer, then glances at Victoria, and they both burst into giggles. Giggling is not, to Bobbi’s knowledge, something that either of them do very often, so she’s quick to ask, “Are we missing some crucial joke?”

“Oh, just amusement over our mutual experiences in Catholic school,” says Isabelle. “Not that I was a very good Catholic even back then. The uniforms made it difficult.”

Bobbi smirks. “Secular private school had its advantages,” she half-agrees.

By the end of the round, Chest of Drawers is looking rattled, having had no answers for any of the other questions. Even Trivia Corps looks smug about this. Melinda catches Anne’s eye for a moment and they exchange respectful “we know who the real enemy here is” nods.

Scott passes out photo sheets and explains, “You’ll have five minutes to list as many of these people as you can. The common factor here is that they’re all bald.”

Darcy leans out of her seat so she can make direct eye contact with Skye and, in a put-on mediocre baritone, sing, “ _I am the one who knooooooooocks_.”

“Is this normal?” Carina whispers to Rogue.

“Yeah,” says Rogue, snorting. “She’s pretty much the internet in a person’s body.” She wraps her arm around Darcy’s waist.

Meanwhile, Skye is singing “ _I’m bluuuuuue rock caaaaaaandy_ ” to herself while the rest of her team scrambles to come up with the names.

“Skye, you’re wasting time, help us,” Jemma hisses, tugging on her girlfriend’s sleeve.

“Well, that’s Vin Diesel,” Skye says without missing a beat. “And Ripley from _Alien_ , and Dr. Evil.”

“Oh, Evie from _V for Vendetta_ ,” says Maya, pointing and nodding.

“I don’t know how I expected there would be a sheet full of bald people without fucking Walter White,” Raina sighs dramatically, letting her head rest on Lorelei’s shoulder.

Nebula snorts. “Maybe someday fucking Walter White will stay dead.”

“Oh, but Taye Diggs is nice to look at,” Darcy offers.

Rogue grins and replies, “Can’t argue with that.”

As Trivia Corps fills in the answers as best they can, Coulson comments, “I’m really liking that _Breaking Bad_ show. Walter White’s an interesting man.”

Fury and Melinda both say nothing, but in a calculated sort of way. Sif, on the other hand, narrows her eyes and asks, carefully, “And...how do you feel about Skyler?”

Shrugging, Coulson replies, “I’m not that far in. I don’t have much of an opinion. I hear she gets harder to like.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, Voldemort!” Jemma exclaims, sounding much too cheerful about the prospect.

Fitz squeaks in horror. “You said his name!” he whispers.

“Nerds,” says Skye affectionately.

“Spoken like a dumbass Gryf,” replies Gwen with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, hey! No House trash-talking!”

Chest of Drawers is grumbling amongst themselves. “I liked Walter White fine up until that last season,” says Garrett.

“It’s a shame,” agrees Ward.

Nebula, who’s gotten bored and is eavesdropping on the other teams, leans over to poke Raina’s arm and hisses, “So you said you knew what you were doing with that shitbag, why did you let him do that to you if you knew about it beforehand?”

“I didn’t know about this,” Raina says, nodding to her wrists. “I had my suspicions.”

“But why fuck him at all? I mean, you’re clearly not hurting for company.”

“Nebula,” Carina says warningly, “you’re starting to sound judgmental.”

Nebula sighs. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t mean it that way, probably, but seriously, why?”

“The world needed to see proof of what he’s capable of,” Raina murmurs.

Nebula starts to demand an explanation, but before she can finish Scott calls, “Time! Turn in your sheets, please!” Nebula’s expression is similar to a cat being bathed.

The entertainment round begins with the question, “From where is the word Jedi thought to originate?”

Bobbi’s eyes are gleaming. “Jidai Geki,” she says. “It’s the Japanese samurai soap opera genre.” She’s as smug as she’s been all night.

Isabelle raises her eyebrows. “It’s hot that you know that.”

“And it’s cute when you let your nerdy side out,” Victoria tells Isabelle.

That makes Isabelle sigh and lean over to nuzzle Victoria’s cheek. Heimdall smiles at this uncharacteristic softness from Victoria, but says nothing.

Maya, meanwhile, is looking around to see who else seems to have this question taken care of. Skye, which makes sense because she’s pretty outspoken about being into things like this; Carina, which is a little bit surprising because she seems a little too twee to be into _Star Wars_ but then again, not too twee to be into Japanese culture and language.

Coulson’s looking hopefully around at his team, to no avail. “I love _Star Wars_ , but I’m hopeless with behind-the-scenes stuff,” says Sif apologetically (in Melinda’s direction).

“That’s all right,” Jane says diplomatically. “I think we’re still doing pretty well.”

Scott’s next question is “Which television show featured the first scripted interracial kiss, and which two characters was it between?”

“Kirk and Uhura in _Star Trek_ ,” says Trip immediately.

Skye leans over to high five him.

“Although,” Trip adds, “it was while they were under the telekinetic influence of Platonians and neither of them were particularly into the other, so I’m not sure how much of a positive thing it actually is, in hindsight.”

Akela grimaces. “Ah, yes. I hate that episode. At least the new films, while heavily flawed, sometimes allow Uhura to do things.”

“And Spock and Uhura look hot together,” Skye chimes in.

“Actually,” Hank is telling his teammates, “in certain online communities there is debate about whether this should be considered the first interracial kiss on television. A 1966 episode of _Wild Wild West_ and of _Mission: Impossible_ and _I Spy_ feature kisses between a white man and an Asian woman, and a white man and biracial woman, respectively. The latter also happened in another _Star Trek_ episode the previous year. Though of course in popular culture, when one thinks of ‘interracial marriage,’ white and black is the first pairing to come to mind, so perhaps that contributes to the potential misconception.”

“I’m not sure you should be the one to be making that statement, darling,” Anne says with a little smirk, resting her hand on top of Hank’s.

Hank chuckles. “Well yes, that’s a fair point.”

There’s vague grumbling coming from Chest of Drawers, since a few of them know the answer but none of them are happy about it (the fact of the answer or that they know about it). Darcy is writing an answer down and she’s pretty sure she’s correct, but she and Raina are making faces at each other because of it. Over at Trivia Corps, Coulson is guessing (his teammates all look equally blank).

The next question is “What is generally considered to be the most-covered song in history?”

Coulson grins. “‘Yesterday’! That’s one of my favorite songs.”

It’s not a horrible song, it’s pretty good, but Jane still has to work not to roll her eyes. He’s really a very predictable human being. Not for the first time tonight, she wishes she was over at the Rebel Alliance table, where she can currently see Maya giving the answer, where she can hypothetically see herself having more fun.

“I can’t help but wonder,” Anne murmurs, “what the point of even coming is when you’re so clearly not enjoying yourself.” She says this to her team but without taking her eyes off the Trivia Corps table, where the only ones smiling are Coulson and Thor.

Maria shrugs. “Loyalty? I don’t get it either, but knowing Melinda and Sif, that makes sense.”

By the time the last question rolls around - “What was the name of the shark in _Jaws_?” - that team appears to have given up entirely. Jane and Thor are having a separate conversation, Hogun’s on his phone, Melinda and Sif seem to be teasing each other (Melinda is _smiling_ ), and Fury is...Fury.

“That’s sort of sad,” Carina murmurs.

“Eh,” grunts Nebula. “Paul Blart’ll be okay. And it might teach him not to order everyone around so much.”

The final round involves listing the top 10 grossing movies of all time. “Adjusted for inflation,” Scott is quick to add.

“ _Star Wars_!” yelps Skye immediately.

Fitz has pulled out his phone to access the calculator and starts grumbling about the vagueness of the question and the lack of clarification about inflation rates. Trip pats him on the back reassuringly.

Chest of Drawers seems to have utterly given up. Ward is writing, but he’s looking defeated.

“ _Titanic_ ,” Lorelei says. “I was Rose for Halloween once.”

Nebula makes a noise of disgust. “I hate that movie.”

“Yeah, I do too,” Lorelei shrugs. “It’s a long story.”

“Does it have to do with somebody you were fucking?”

“Not that long, apparently.”

“Also _The Sound of Music_ ,” Raina says.

Over at the Rebel Alliance’s table, Mack suggests, “ _Star Wars_ and _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_.” He grins playfully at Bobbi. “Beat you to it.”

“Yeah, well, _Gone With the Wind_ and _Titanic_ and _Jaws_ ,” Bobbi counters, like they’re arguing.

“Also _Avatar_ ,” Maya adds, pulling a face.

“Wouldn’t _The Ten Commandments_ be?” Victoria asks Isabelle.

Isabelle frowns. “Probably? I know they made us watch that, but I don’t remember most of it.”

Meanwhile, Trivia Corps has devolved into Coulson attempting to write down all of the answers himself, since no one else really cares. He manages to write down _Avatar_ , _Titanic_ , _Jurassic Park_ , _The Dark Knight_ , and _Harry Potter_ before looking desperately at Melinda. “Do you know any of these?” he asks hopefully.

“Probably _Gone With the Wind_ ,” she says.

When the round finishes, Scott collects the score sheets and passes them to Lance, who tallies them up. To his satisfaction, he notices that Bobbi’s team have won the night - not that he would’ve admitted to rooting for them, but Coulson was being a tosser after all, so why not root for the group that at least doesn’t have a micromanager leading it?

Jupiter Phoenix gets second place, just slightly ahead of Trivia Corps, and Lance is amused to watch Coulson’s mouth fall open a bit as his team is announced in third place. Meanwhile, the members of Jupiter Phoenix shriek in delight and exchange high fives. The rest of Trivia Corps seem nonplussed by their loss.

Bobbi’s wearing that familiar smug expression that he hates so much, but he has to admit, she’s earned this.


	42. I'm on the hunt for who I've not yet become, but I'd settle for a little equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack and Bobbi meet up for lunch and are introduced to some new faces in the mall; at group therapy, Kara shares her story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in the second half for semi-graphic descriptions of violence and trauma resulting from a bank robbery.
> 
> Also, Wanda and Pietro are being written as autistic. One of the writers is on the spectrum and is writing based on her experiences and those of autistic family members, but please let us know if something we have written is glaringly incorrect or offensive.
> 
> Vaguely references [drinking champagne made of an angel's tears and pain, but I feel celestial](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3579159/chapters/9183646).

>> _I understand why your others might not want to come, but you should really think about it some time. The rush of winning is pretty nice._

Bobbi chuckles to herself, sliding her phone back in the front pocket of her purse. She’s sitting on one of the benches in the middle of the corridor, waiting for Mack to come find her so they can do lunch; doing lunch has become more difficult since he got his new job, but she doesn’t hold that against him. Waiting for him is as good of a time to return texts as any, and she and Sharon have been having an ongoing conversation about the hilarious trivia debacle for the last few days.

After another minute or so, Mack appears and ambles over to her. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” she says, immediately checking his wrist for evidence. “Nice watch you’ve got there.”

He chuckles. “Thanks. Took your advice. Bruce was really helpful.”

“That _so_ ,” she grins.

“I see what you’re doing,” he sighs. “Meddling with me like I’m a damn doll.”

“What are you talking about!” Bobbi exclaims, although she doesn’t really bother to make it sound genuine. “You needed a watch, I pointed you in the right direction. The selection at Kohl’s is sadly lacking.”

Mack grins. “I do like this watch. Your plan’s not quite foolproof, though. I don’t have to go _back_ to the watch store.”

“Well, you don’t _have_ to do anything,” she replies airily.

“He definitely didn’t give me his number either, since I know you’re dyin’ to ask.”

She sighs. “Am I really that transparent?”

“I know you,” he replies. “Just ‘cause _you_ don’t get the warm fuzzies about people doesn’t mean you can orchestrate other people’s love lives.”

“Hey, I get warm fuzzies,” Bobbi retorts. “Not _the_ warm fuzzies, but they’re no less important.” She shrugs and finally stands. “Anyway, I just wanna make sure you’re happy.”

He smiles. “I know. But I _am_ capable of finding my own dates.”

“I know, but you’ve been moping around since you and Tim broke up -”

“I don’t mope,” Mack interrupts.

“You’ve been very masculinely but sadly walking around,” Bobbi corrects, “and I don’t like it.”

“Your concern is touching,” he deadpans. “I’m fine, really. Did you wanna get lunch still?”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Do you mind if we stop in here really quick? I’m looking for a book that Pages doesn’t have, and Ian said it might be down here.” She nods to the science store.

He shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

Bobbi smiles before leading the way in. Unlike a lot of the stores in this mall, this one is quiet, impeccably organized, and unlikely to be visited by screaming children: this, matched with its proximity to her own store, has made it one of Bobbi’s favorite places to wander in during breaks.

“So what exactly were you looking for?” asks Mack, heading for the bookshelf.

“Oh, just a book,” she says lightly. “You didn’t tell me what you two _did_ talk about, though.”

He sighs. “Should’ve known. We were talking about work, mostly. He said that job is the most relaxing one he’s ever had.”

From the general direction of the doorway comes a loud “ _Sssshhhh_ ” followed by soft giggling. It’s attributable to Darcy, who’s holding Rogue’s hand in one of her own and a paper bag clearly marked “JANE” in the other.

“You realize this ain’t one of those places that’ll toss you out for talkin’ too loud, right?” asks Rogue with a smirk. She’s used to this.

“No, but it feels respectful to be quiet in here,” Darcy says, stopping to examine a rack of DNA plushies (one of the store’s few concessions to the less science-genius-y customer). “Besides, I think they’re talking about something interesting. I wanna hear.”

“Relaxing, not boring, so he meant it as a positive,” Bobbi muses, unaware of the eavesdroppers (or maybe just not caring). “Positives are a good place to start.”

“Sure,” replies Mack, rolling his eyes fondly. “He seems like a sweet guy. Quiet, kind of awkward. Nervous. But he calmed down once he started showing me watches.”

“Yeah, the few times I’ve talked to him he’s been about like that,” she agrees. “Like there’d be a lot more to know the closer you were with him, but he’s already very nice to be around.”

Mack nods. “Something like that,” he says, as if he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Who’re they talkin’ about?” murmurs Rogue to Darcy.

“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Darcy replies, fascinated.

“So you didn’t get his number yet, but did he leave room to think you might?” Bobbi presses.

Shrugging, Mack keeps his face neutral (not without considerable effort). “He told me if anything went wrong with my watch, I should come in and talk to him about it. I doubt that was the salesman talking.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy whispers, “I think they’re talking about Bruce. That is so crazy.”

Rogue frowns. “Who’s Bruce?”

“He’s this really shy, really nice guy who works in the watch store,” Darcy explains. “I don’t actually know him that well, which is why it’s crazy. I know _everyone_.”

“Yeah, that is weird,” teases Rogue. “I’d have thought you’da wandered in and introduced yourself first thing.”

“Oh, I’ve spoken to him,” Darcy shrugs. “I just don’t know him well. I think he’s sorta friends with Stark, which makes even less sense to me.”

“Huh.” Rogue tilts her head. “Stark like that rich prettyboy who works at Sharper Images? I can’t see that.”

Darcy nods very seriously. “I mean, key word _sorta_ , I don’t know that he’s capable of any more than that, but y’know.” Jane comes out of the back room, holding a case of driver bit kits, and Darcy calls, “Hey, weirdo, I brought you lunch.”

Jane rolls her eyes and sets the case down dramatically before responding, “Do I have to buy you dinner to make up for it?”

Darcy looks affronted. “What the hell, Jane,” she mutters, coming to stand next to her friend. “I’m just trying to be nice. I made sandwiches.”

“You make enough for two people?” Jane asks.

“Why, I do declare, roomie,” Darcy says, batting her eyelashes. “I’m already promised to another this lunch hour.”

Rogue scoffs.

“I was actually asking for Helen,” Jane explains, nodding to the pretty Korean woman behind the counter, who’s been reading this entire time but now looks up with a shy wave.

“Finally we meet!” Darcy exclaims, bounding over to the counter. “I keep hearing about this brilliant new transfer student-slash-coworker. I’m starting to worry for Jane’s boyfriend.”

Helen smiles, and it’s coy enough that Darcy is delighted. “I think Thor will be fine,” she says. “I have no plans of trying to fill his shoes.”

“Helen, this is Darcy,” Jane says, deciding introductions are more important than restocking for the moment. “My loudmouth roommate. Darcy, this is Helen.”

Meanwhile, Mack’s spotted a giant box of drill bits and yelps in excitement.

“You are such a dork,” Bobbi laughs.

Mack purposefully ignores her in favor of reading down the list of the toolbox’s contents.

Rogue rolls her eyes and smirks as she waves at Helen. “Darce, you’re ridiculous. Hey there, I’m Rogue.”

Helen nods politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Darcy, Rogue,” she says. “Are you the reasons I keep seeing Jane in the library past midnight?”

Darcy bursts out laughing, so loud that she has to stifle the sound against Rogue’s shoulder; Rogue snorts and replies, “‘Spose I am.”

“Youthful indiscretions,” Bobbi says nostalgically, in Mack’s general direction.

“You’re one to talk,” he replies, grinning.

“You’re only allowed to tease me about the indiscretions you’ve actually witnessed,” she retorts.

“I saw the aftermath of one, that was enough.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes, but she knows better than to argue that particular point and instead waves at the cluster of people by the counter. “Since it’s weird being the only ones in the room who haven’t participated in formal introductions now, hi, I’m Bobbi, and I’m a science dilettante,” she says blithely.

“And I’m Mack.” Mack offers a hand. “Formerly of RadioShack, now at Best Buy.”

“From what I hear, it’s good that you made the switch,” Helen declares, because she hasn’t at all had a hard time picking up the rumors about this town (the starry-eyed girl in the genetic neurobiology course she’s TAing is prone to very expository monologues to friends before and after class, for example).

Mack laughs. “Yeah, well, I can’t say I was heartbroken about losing that job. Weird working environment.”

They’re all busy talking and don’t notice the pair who’ve walked in right away: a boy and a girl, young-looking but obviously not teenagers, who are walking so close together that it seems like they’re moving as one. The girl has long dark hair that looks as if it hasn’t been combed in a while, and she’s wearing a worn red leather jacket and black arm warmers. The boy has obviously bleached white-blond hair and seems to be a walking Under Armor advertisement. He follows close behind the girl, who seems preoccupied with looking at every single thing and person in the store. She’s staring intensely at it all.

Finally Jane decides everyone is settled enough into the conversation that she can get back to her restocking, and after a few moments of that she becomes very aware of the newcomers. Like a good employee, she smiles and says, “Can I help you find anything?”

“Maybe,” says the girl. “I am here to find something to hold onto, something that squishes, perhaps. Something small. I had a ball that was very nice to squish, but then he-” she indicates the boy - “threw it out the car window.”

“It was an accident!” protests the boy, but he’s grinning.

“My brother has many such ‘accidents,’” she continues. “So I asked him to buy me another.”

Jane makes the slightest of faces, not entirely following, but Helen nods, marking her place in her book with a blue ribbon and setting it on the counter. “I think we may have some options,” she says as she comes around to demonstrate and the others resume their conversation. “They are officially marketed as stress balls, but I find that many people in charge of marketing have a very narrow view of the world.”

The girl continues to stare at Helen, her expression unchanged. After a long moment, she nods.

“I’m told that these are the most popular ones,” Helen begins, holding up a pink ball covered in a mesh webbing and small spikes. “They have a playful air, which I know many people appreciate when they look to relax.”

Taking the one Helen offers her, the girl squeezes it, then makes a soft unhappy noise. “No, too spiky,” she says, handing it back. “Something less pointy.”

The boy reaches for the ball. “I’d like to see it.”

Helen nods, giving it over before turning back to the display. “We also have these,” she says, indicating a more traditionally ball-looking ball filled with beads. “They squeeze very well and return to their original shape after, but they are a bit noisy.”

The girl plays with it for a moment before nodding. “Yes, this is good. This will do. Pietro…”

Her brother, who’s been squeezing the pink ball contentedly, has glanced over at the group of women talking across the room and, still holding the toy, strides over to them. “Hello there,” he says. “How are you lovely ladies doing today?”

“Startled to realize I apparently look like a careworn French prostitute,” Darcy mutters to Rogue.

Bobbi folds her arms, surveying the boy, apparently-Pietro. He’s not that much younger than her, probably, but he’s young enough that he looks like a baby to her, like if he was one of the grooms-to-be who came through her store with their fiancees they’d be religious fundamentalists. That clearly isn’t the case, though, and she can’t quite tell if he’s seriously using that as a come-on or kidding.

“We’re fine, I think,” she says, looking around for agreeing nods.

“Glad to hear it,” he replies. “Name’s Pietro. My sister and I are new around here, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to...show us around?”

“We are new to the mall,” corrects Wanda.

“I could give you a tour,” Darcy pipes up. Jane, standing slightly behind her, is hurriedly shaking her head ‘no.’

Pietro grins. “Ah, very appreciated, thank you. And you are?”

“Darcy Lewis,” said girl announces, stepping forward with a giant smile.

“I really shouldn’t let this happen,” Jane whispers to Bobbi.

“I’m not likin’ it much either,” says Rogue with a grimace.

Bobbi doesn’t really know Rogue well, but she knows that expression. “I’m pretty sure your girlfriend just likes filling people in on hot mall gossip,” she says, attempting comfort.

Rogue doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she nods.

Wanda, holding the ball with beads inside, comes over to stand next to Pietro. “If you are done flirting with pretty women, we can go now. I’ve decided on this one.”

Darcy grins. “Then we’ll start the tour right here! Over at the counter ready to ring you up is Helen, who we all just met today, too. Except for Jane, who knows her by virtue of also working at this store.”

Jane waves weakly, wishing she was better at new people.

“Hopefully Helen is less of a square than Jane,” Darcy continues. “I’m Jane’s roommate, so I’m allowed to say that. Then there’s Bobbi -”

“Hi,” Bobbi says, deciding this probably isn’t a hand-shaking moment. “I’m down the hall at David’s Bridal.”

“And Mack -”

“Hey.” He nods. “Best Buy, across the parking lot.”

“And this is Rogue,” Darcy finishes, grabbing Rogue’s hand with a pleased smile.

Looking happier, Rogue smirks and says, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hello.” Wanda looks at Pietro. “Now you know their names. Can we go?”

Pietro chuckles. “And this is Wanda, my younger sister-”

“By twelve minutes.”

“Well, ah, welcome,” Jane says, fully aware she sounds too formal.

“Let’s keep the tour going!” Darcy exclaims, clearly delighted. “Rogue, you coming?”

“Ah, I actually gotta go. I got somethin’ to get to.” Rogue gives Darcy’s hand a squeeze.

Darcy nods, understanding, and finally hands the paper bag to Jane. “Well, your sandwiches as promised, and we’ll get out of your hair,” she says with a wave, ushering Wanda and Pietro out of the store and out of the grown-ups’ hair. She doesn’t drop Rogue’s hand until she has to, though.

Rogue turns a different way than the rest of the group and blows Darcy a kiss as she leaves. Watching her leave, Wanda suddenly asks, “Is the something a therapy appointment?”

 

* * *

 

‘It looks as if we’re all here, let’s begin,” Moira announces, folding her hands in her lap and smiling (it’s not quite a careful therapist smile, but it’s more formal than a buddies smile). “Does anyone have anything that they want to discuss?”

Carina very shyly raises her hand.

“Go ahead, Carina,” Moira says.

“Well, last time I mentioned that friend of mine in the bad relationship,” Carina begins, making a face. “This friend, her - I don’t even want to call him her boyfriend, he’d hurt her. Physically. She said she knew what she was doing, and I wanted to believe her, because she’s very worldly, you know?” That’s directed at Moira, despite the fact that she is not one of the four other people in the room who _would_ know. “But I was still very worried about her, and I didn’t know how to get that across to her. I’m not sure she thinks of me as a friend like I do her.”

Moira frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad,” Carina says. “I just don’t think she thinks of people as friends very often, in the traditional sense. I don’t think she’s used to people caring about her.”

“It’s good of you to be there for her as long as it doesn’t hurt you,” Moira says.

“It doesn’t,” Carina replies, sounding almost chipper for a moment. “So the other night, I saw this friend at tri - out. He’d hurt her even worse this time, but she said they were over, that she’d had enough. And I believe her, and I’m happy for her.”

“I am too,” Moira declares, although she doesn’t know who the girl in question is (they avoid identifying nouns in group). “It’s not always easy for someone to get out of a situation like that.” She regards Carina a moment, quizzical but not judging. “Which I think you know. Did what your friend went through bring up anything for you?”

They’re not supposed to be snuggly during group, technically, but Carina reaches to squeeze Nebula’s hand for courage anyway. “I think that at first I was confused,” she admits. “She said she knew what she was doing, and she and - another friend of hers, they always seem like they have plans, so at first I thought that this was just part of one of them somehow. But the worse the situation got, the more I was wondering why she knowingly put herself in it.”

Nebula rolls her eyes and chimes in, “She didn’t _know_ that bad shit was gonna happen. She said she had a feeling and she was prepared for whatever.”

“I guess it just didn’t make sense to me when I started seeing it go on,” Carina muses. “I… because I know how hard it can be to make it out of a situation like that, I didn’t understand why she’d sort of seek it out? I didn’t want to make her feel like I was judging her, but it was scary.”

“You said that you’d told her you felt that way, though,” Moira says. “You left it open for her if she wanted to ask you for help.”

“Yes,” Carina says. “I think I just wanted her to want to. I remember wishing I had someone to ask like that.” She shakes her head, forces a smile. “But it’s all better now, I think!”

“And I didn’t snap the guy’s neck,” Nebula adds. “Do I get points?”

Moira smiles, though it’s strained. “A very few points, perhaps,” she concedes. “Does anyone else have anything?”

“I am dating a very nice girl,” says Laura. “She does not mind that I have unconventional habits.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Moira replies, sounding sincere about it this time.

Laura nods. “I am still unsure of how to flirt, but she doesn’t mind that either.”

“That means whatever you’re doin’ is working for her,” says Rogue.

Moira chuckles. That isn’t something she feels comfortable having an opinion about, though, so she says, “If the rest of you don’t have anything to bring up yet, I’d like to introduce our newest group member, or more aptly let her introduce herself.” She motions to the woman sitting to her left, who Carina vaguely recognizes but can’t immediately place and the others don’t have a clue about.

“Hi,” she says softly. “I’m Kara, and I just moved here. I…” She looks to Moira for more encouragement, fussing with her hair, and Moira nods. “I, ah, I lived in a smaller city, a town, about an hour north of here, but…” She motions to the scar on her cheek. “There are better doctors here, and I needed a fresh start, anyway.”

She pauses for a long moment and looks around anxiously. MJ, sensing her discomfort, gives her a warm smile.

“I was working as a teller at a local bank,” Kara continues. “It was pretty small, not a big chain or anything, and I used to prefer that. More personal, I guess. I’d been working there since I got out of college, and I liked it. It was one of those environments where it seems like nothing bad could possibly happen, which meant that something bad was bound to happen.”

“You can take your time,” Moira assures.

“It was Tuesday, March 24th,” Kara says. “It’s funny, I’m usually not good at remembering dates but that one is burned into my brain. Some days were busier than others at the bank, and some times of day busier than other times - lunchtime on Tuesday was always one of the slower times. I was the only teller out when a strange man came in. I recognized most of our clients at that point, small town and all that, but this guy was different. At first I figured that he’d just come in when I wasn’t at the counter and I thought nothing of it. He came up to the counter and slid me a note asking for money, demanding my, my compliance. I don’t know why I didn’t just -”

She’s faltering enough, looking upset enough, that Moira reassuringly nods and says, “It’s fine, Kara. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kara shakes her head, smiling bitterly. “I went back to get the money, but I made the mistake of going for the panic button. Before I realized what was going on, he’d slammed my head against the counter and yelled something threatening, I don’t even remember what it was but I remember the tone of his voice. I was still fumbling for the button when he lifted me up by the hair and I guess that’s when he messed my face up, but everything from then on is a blank.”

“Oh my god,” says Nebula, looking uncharacteristically interested. Carina glares at her.

“Anyway, my memory cuts back in a few days later,” Kara says. “I was still concussed, and there was a bandage on my face, which they told me was because I’d had surgeries. The robber had cut my cheek open and taken what money he could before running. One of the cops who showed up told me they found me behind the counter sobbing in a pool of my own blood.”

Laura also looks very interested. “This sounds not unlike the night my mother was murdered. I am sorry.”

Kara winces. “I’m sorry about that, too,” she murmurs. “It’s horrible. Things like this shouldn’t happen. I’ve thought about what I would do if I saw him again. It’s… not polite conversation.”

“Having impulses like that is completely normal,” Moira offers. “But it’s all right to not want to share them, too.”

“I spent a little time in the hospital there, but once I was stable enough, the doctors recommended I come here,” Kara declares. “There are more resources, and it’s not like I had any family there or anything. The fresh start is supposed to be good for me.”

Rogue nods. “They usually are. Mine was. I hope yours is too.”

“Me too,” Carina says, sniffling. She’s a sympathy crier, which isn’t exactly the best for group therapy but it’s not like she can really help it. “That’s - you’ve been through so much and I…”

Kara’s eyes go wide. “Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m so sorry,” she exclaims.

Nebula snorts. “It’s fine, honestly,” she says while rubbing Carina’s back. “She does this at pretty much every session.”

“Which is her way of handling things, and that’s fine,” Moira says archly, handing Carina the tissues. “Everyone’s coping mechanisms are different.”

“Still, I’m sorry for… being the cause,” Kara mumbles. “I don’t wanna add to your…”

“It’s really all right,” Carina replies. “I’ve gotten pretty good at not breaking down outside of group, so it’s inevitable.” She tries to smile. “I really am sorry you had to go through that, and I think I know what you mean about if you saw the guy. If you ever wanna talk more, I’m here, okay?”

“I’ll take you up on that when I feel ready,” Kara says, managing a smile of her own.

“I found that doing that research on the most efficient ways of murdering someone was very helpful,” chimes in Laura, almost cheerfully. “I have some very instructive books if you would like to borrow them.”

“I can’t condone that,” says Moira, looking alarmed. “Maybe we should talk about other coping strategies.”


	43. tonight you're not alone at all, this is me sending out my satellite call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye, Jemma, Fitz, and Trip go to San Fransokyo to meet Skye's mother, as well as hang out with their friends from SFIT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the subject of Jiaying:
> 
>   1. Her first contact with Skye is mentioned in [this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/6286361).
>   2. Regarding the recent revelations in canon about Jiaying, we felt the need to clarify that we are writing her with the assumption that she would have remained a goodhearted person had not Hydra tortured and experimented on her. As no such thing happened to her in this 'verse, we see no need to deviate from our understanding of her character prior to the finale.
> 

> 
> Every single name on a Coke bottle that we mention in this and upcoming chapters can be found in real life.
> 
> Particulars of the _Big Hero 6_ characters have been adapted as closely as possible to canon for the purposes of this AU. Except, of course, for Tadashi's death. Since San Fransokyo is a fictional place, we are inventing most of it.

Fitz is vaguely grumbling as Trip tugs him along by the arm. “Bloody irritating child,” he mutters. “Kicking my seat the whole ride. I was looking forward to some nice sleep.”

“We can turn in early tonight,” promises Trip. “We’ll let Jem and Skye and her mom hang out, and you can sleep.”

“All right,” says Fitz, resting his head on Trip’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you.” Trip reaches down to squeeze his hand. Then he notices a holographic poster illustrating the efficiency of San Fransokyo’s famous wind turbines and points it out to Fitz, who perks up.

Skye, meanwhile, announces, “I’m thirsty. Jemma, buy me a drink.”

Jemma rolls her eyes fondly. “What do you want?” she asks, shouldering her backpack and heading for the nearest concessions shop.

“Uh, I dunno. Something unhealthy,” says Skye with a grin. “Ooh, are they doing those Coke bottles with names on them again?”

“I think so,” Jemma muses. “I haven’t seen any good ones yet, though.”

The shop turns out to have an entire display of them, and Skye immediately begins to sort through them. “Oh my god,” she says after a minute, “I gotta get the Victoria one. I’m Instagramming that shit.”

“I don’t mean to be mean, but I highly doubt that Victoria checks your Instagram enough to take note of your attempts to troll her,” Jemma points out, smirking.

Skye shrugs and pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna tag her in it. Wait, I should find you one too!” She rummages around and finally pulls out one that says _Maria_ , offering it to Jemma.

“Ridiculous selfie incoming?” Jemma asks.

“Duh!” Skye holds up the phone and puts her arm around Jemma.

“What are you two doing?” calls Fitz.

“They’ve got the personalized Coke bottles,” Jemma explains.

“Man, those are great in theory, if you have a boring name,” jokes Trip.

Skye says “hang on!” and fervently searches for a long moment. “Well, Antonio?”

He grins and takes it from her. “Close enough. Thanks, girl.”

“Have you told anyone we’re landed?” Jemma asks the boys, already pulling out her phone as she watches them search for another bottle.

Trip shakes his head as he dutifully spins bottles.

“I’m sending Honey a message, then,” Jemma narrates as she does just that. “I know she was wondering what time we’d be in.”

“Here,” says Skye, shoving an _Alfredo_ bottle at Fitz (ignoring his indignant yelp), “we better go, I forgot we’re meeting my mom’s assistant or something. What time is it?”

“4:37,” Jemma declares, striding over to the counter. “I’ll cover all the drinks, c’mon.”

They pay and head for the Arrivals terminal, where, after a moment of looking around, Skye spots a tall blond guy holding a sign that says SKYE (DAISY) and is covered in what seems to be Pokemon stickers. She calls, “Hey!” and lifts her hand to wave until he spots her.

“Hey there,” he says, once they’ve walked over to him. “You must be Daisy - I mean, Skye. Sorry. Jiaying always used your birthname when she talked about you.”

Skye shrugs. “No big deal, Pikachu. Nice stickers.”

He chuckles, replying, “Yeah, she put me in charge of decorating it and there honestly isn’t that much around the office. I think these were leftovers from some kids’ event from years ago? But I figured, who doesn’t like Pokemon?”

“Deprived people,” says Trip cheerfully, offering his hand. “Trip, and you are…?”

“Lincoln.” There’s a round of introductions and then Lincoln says, “I’ve got the car waiting outside, unless you needed anything? The house isn’t too far away, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Nope, I think we’re good to go.”

 

* * *

 

“...and yeah, the novelization makes it _better_ , but that’s like saying a broken arm is better than gangrene!”

Laughing, Lincoln shakes his head. “Yeah, but once you know that their relationship was supposed to be abusive and Anakin was a creepy douche before he killed the kids, it makes more sense.”

“Oh, Anakin was a creepy douche even as a kid. Like, what was that? ‘Are you an angel?’ Are you kidding me? That’s some weird shit coming from a ten-year-old.” Skye’s in her “talking about _Star Wars_ " mode, ignoring everyone else in the car but Lincoln. She called shotgun and none of the others had wanted to argue.

“Lincoln,” Jemma says loudly from the backseat, “I noticed we just drove past the botanical gardens. Are they as impressive as people claim?” She’s starting to feel a bit sullen and neglected, and that’s the best thing she can think of to say without sounding overtly jealous.

“Uh, I guess so.” He shrugs. “I haven’t been in a few years.”

“It’s on my list of places to visit, I admit,” Jemma continues cheerfully. “Maybe we can get the kids to take us?” That’s said more at Skye and the boys.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” replies Fitz, shooting her a sympathetic look. He can tell she’s jealous of Lincoln.

“Good,” Jemma says. That glance from Fitz serves to snap her out of it a bit, because she doesn’t want to be petty (it’s just hard when there’s a conventionally attractive, seemingly friendly boy possibly flirting with one’s girlfriend).

The rest of the ride is spent in slightly awkward silence, and when they arrive at the house Lincoln says apologetically, “Jiaying had some things to finish at the office, but she wanted you guys to settle in and stuff. She should be home within the hour.”

“Cool, thanks,” says Skye with a quick smile.

“Should we just pick rooms?” Jemma asks.

“Uh, she had specific ones for you. You two,” he says to Trip and Fitz, “are the third door down the hall, and Skye, you and Jemma are at the other end.” He awkwardly leads them to the appropriate door and, opening it, gestures inside.

“I guess it didn’t occur to her that keeping boys and girls apart would be super unnecessary,” cracks Skye, dropping her duffel bag on the bed.

Lincoln tilts his head. “Uh…”

“You live in San Fransokyo, I know you’ve heard of queer people, dude,” teases Skye.

“Oh, right. Of course.” Lincoln grins and nods. “Alright, uh, do you guys need me for anything else?”

“Nah, go on, Pikachu.” Skye waves her hand toward the door. “Thanks for driving and all.”

She turns to make a crack at Jemma about secretly being the daughter of the ridiculously rich parents from _The Parent Trap_ , but then she notices the weird look on Jemma’s face. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Jemma says, so quickly it’s probably not true.

“Jem, I can tell you’re lying,” Skye replies. “What’s up?”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.” Skye reaches for her hand.

“Do you think he’s cute?” Jemma mumbles, ducking her head.

That takes Skye by surprise enough that she laughs. “Who, Lincoln?”

Jemma doesn’t look up, but she nods.

“No. I mean, not really. I guess he’s okay, I hadn’t thought about it. But you’re way cuter, and I’m dating you, so.” Skye’s tone becomes more gentle as she asks, “Are you jealous of how I was talking to him?”

“Not - I mean, it’s... “ Jemma sighs. “It’s just that you’re so charismatic and vivacious with people, and I love that, I really do, but I suppose sometimes I just worry. I told you, it’s dumb.”

“Awww. You don’t have to, okay? You’re my girl. Promise.” Skye squeezes her hand and leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you,” Jemma whispers, squeezing Skye’s hand right back. “I promise I’m not some possessive arse who gets jealous at every interaction. Apparently, it just flares up occasionally.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s kinda nice having someone care that much, actually,” admits Skye with a grin. “I haven’t had a lot of people be possessive of me. In ways I like, anyway.”

Jemma nudges Skye’s shoulder. “Well, I do care that much,” she declares. “I promise.”

Skye kisses her, deep and affectionate, and only pulls back when they’re both slightly out of breath. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I know this is weird, it’s weird for me too. We’re in my mom’s house and we’re gonna meet her in a while and it’s just...weird.”

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry,” Jemma says immediately. “I didn’t mean to be territorial and silly when you’re…” Worrying, she means. “Look, I can’t do anything but be here for you, but I want to do that, all right?”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m just...getting used to it, I guess. I want you here, thank you.” Skye squeezes Jemma’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” Jemma murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of Skye’s mouth. “It’s going to be all right.”

Skye nods, swallowing. “She’s...she’s gonna like me, right?”

“Of course!” Jemma exclaims. “You’re infinitely likable.”

“Okay, just checking,” replies Skye, her tone falsely bright. “It would suck if she didn’t like me.”

“She’s going to,” Jemma insists, very serious. “You’re incredible.” She kisses Skye’s cheek. “You’re talented.” She kisses Skye’s other cheek. “You’re clever.” She kisses Skye’s forehead. “You’re funny.” She kisses Skye’s lips. “You’re lovely.”

Skye’s eyes drift shut while Jemma’s kissing her, and she makes a little noise that’s half-gasp half-sigh. “Thank you. It’s...it’s really dumb to worry about it but…”

“I can’t pretend to understand exactly, but I sympathize,” Jemma says. “But she’d be stupid not to like you, and whatever happens, I know it’s not the same but I love you, all right?”

“I love you too,” says Skye. “Thanks, Jemma.”

“You’re welcome,” Jemma murmurs. “You’re amazing.”

“You are.” Skye nuzzles into Jemma’s neck. “I wanna make out with you so much right now, but we probably better unpack, huh?”

“Probably,” Jemma teases. “We can make out later, all right?”

Grinning, Skye nods and, with one last quick kiss, turns her attention to her suitcase.

 

* * *

 

The four of them eventually end up in the living room, after an uncertain Fitz and Trip knock on the girls’ door (and interrupt the coveted makeouts, which makes Skye grumpy). Jemma suggests the living room, since it’s a central location downstairs and is within view of the door.

So Fitz leans on Trip, dozing a bit, while Skye plays with Jemma’s hair absently. They haven’t been waiting there for more than about fifteen minutes before they hear a key in the lock and all start. Skye grabs Jemma’s hand tightly.

“Hello?” a woman calls as she enters and shuts the door behind her. She seems unsure as to anyone’s location, but a glance in the direction of the living room answers her question and she hurries to greet them more directly. “Hello, I’m Jiaying. Lincoln let me know you’d all gotten in safely. You must be Fitz and Trip-” She pauses to smile at the boys. “And Jemma and - Skye.” Another pause follows, but this one is significantly weightier.

Skye takes a shaky breath and raises her hand in an awkward wave. “That’s me. Hi...Jiaying. Uh. Mom? I don’t really know the protocol here.”

Jiaying comes to sit in one of the empty chairs, giving off an air of effortless elegance as she moves. “I think that in a situation like this, we’re allowed to invent our own protocol,” she says warmly. “Whichever you feel comfortable saying.”

“Okay. Um, Jiaying for now, I guess.” Skye laughs nervously. “I’m sorry, this is just...weird. This has gotta be weird for you too, huh? Like, I was looking for you guys for years and I just found nothing, and now…”

“I suspect some of that is your father’s fault,” Jiaying says. “Since the official records were all but scrubbed, I’m assuming he used false names, and I wouldn’t be surprised if local authorities got involved at one point, which would account for your disappearance into the system.” She says this very matter-of-factly, despite the complicated nature of it.

Skye shrugs. “Sorry, I can’t really help you fill in the blanks. All I remember is St. Agnes, and the homes. And those aren’t great memories.”

Jiaying winces. “I’m sorry,” she says, and it looks like there may be more to that thought but she apparently thinks better of it and smiles. “But where are my manners? Did you have a good flight? Can I get you anything?”

Skye glances at the others before replying, “Well, I actually am getting kinda hungry, how about you guys?”

“Yes,” says Fitz immediately.

“I wouldn’t mind eating,” Jemma says.

“Yeah, it was kind of a long flight. Not bad, though.” Trip shrugs.

“If you like, I can order something,” Jiaying offers. “It’s a bit cliche, but there’s an excellent Chinese place just down the street.”

That makes Skye laugh. “Hey, that’s fine by me.” The others agree, and Jiaying retrieves a menu and, after taking everyone’s requests, calls it in.

“So,” Jiaying begins once they’re all settled again, “how do you all know each other?”

“We all work at the mall,” replies Skye. “Fitz and I are Applebots, Trip’s at Nordstrom’s, and Jemma’s at the ice cream shop.”

Jiaying chuckles. “Applebots, I’ve never heard that one before.”

“She resents working there,” Fitz says with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “I don’t mind it though. Anyway, Jemma and I are roommates and we’ve been mates since we were kids.”

“Well, most of the kids whose families emigrated over here tend to stick together,” Jemma shrugs, then backtracking to explain, “A prominent corporation in our town has its headquarters in the UK, and it’s not uncommon for them to send families over here to set up shop. Fitz’s and my parents came over around the same time, so we’ve been around each other for what feels like forever, really.”

“How interesting,” Jiaying says, sounding as if she means it.

“And I sort of just wandered in,” says Trip cheerfully. “Fitz and I have been together since Halloween.”

Jiaying smiles, turning her attention to the girls. “And what about you two?” she asks. “How long have you been together?”

“Is it that obvious?” asks Skye, grinning. “God, I dunno, when did we start dating, Jem?”

“I remember -” begins Jiaying, at the same time that Jemma says, “It was -” and immediately cuts herself off, looking horrified. “You answer first, please,” she exclaims.

Jiaying nods in amiable concession. “I’m not entirely sure that it would be obvious to everyone,” she says, “I just remember how I looked and sounded when I was in love. I expect there are a few similarities.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that would make sense.” Skye nods, then turns to look at Jemma. “You were saying, honey?””

Jemma flushes. “It was August,” she says. “Officially.”

“I’m so bad at remembering dates,” says Skye cheerfully. “But yeah, that’s when. I’m happy.” She takes Jemma’s hand and squeezes it.

“I’m happy, too,” Jemma murmurs, going bright pink. Despite the fact that they flew out here to meet Skye’s mother, she hadn’t quite registered that it would properly feel like meeting the parents.

“You seem happy,” Jiaying says, watching them for a moment before asking the boys, “Is this shyness and sappiness normal for them, or for my benefit?”

Fitz snorts. “I wish it were just for you. They’re revolting.”

Trip pats Fitz’s hand and nods. “They’re like this all the time.”

“Please, like you guys aren’t cuddling nonstop,” replies Skye, rolling her eyes. “I have evidence.” She pulls out her phone and, after scrolling for a moment, thrusts her phone forward. It’s displaying a picture of the boys nestled into each other.

Fitz squawks. “When did you even take that?”

“Months ago! I knew it would come in handy.” Skye’s grinning and looking extremely smug.

“I’m not sure that I should encourage this behavior, but it is a charming picture,” Jiaying says.

“Damn right,” Trip says proudly.

Then dinner arrives, and Jiaying pours everyone a glass of wine to go with it - “careful,” she cautions, “this is Chinese wine, it’s stronger than what you’re probably used to” - and they talk while eating, mostly about inconsequential things. Fitz gets overly excited about his robots, which Jiaying seems to find endearing. At one point, Jemma starts talking about Griffith.

“And she’s the sweetest cat, but so shy with new people,” she says, leaning against Skye’s shoulder. “She didn’t even want to come out and meet Skye for months, and Skye’s over all the time. But then - it was the silliest thing - she decided to come in and say hello while we were -”

“-Watching _Pacific Rim_!” interrupts Skye suddenly, because she knows booze makes Jemma lose her filter and she’s just not okay with Jiaying knowing they have kinky sex at this point. Or ever, maybe.

“Yes,” Jemma says, to her credit sounding embarrassed. “I think she must have been comforted by the sound of it, we have it on so much.” She sounds pleased with her lie.

Jiaying smiles, because she can tell that’s not what actually happened but she’s polite enough not to press for details. “How sweet,” she murmurs. “I can’t say I’m familiar with the film, so I couldn’t vouch for its comforting sound specifically, but repetition is pleasant sometimes.”

Skye’s face looks like the most excited emoticon. “Oh my god, can we watch it? I brought it. It’s the best movie ever basically. It has giant robots fighting monsters and teamwork and friendship and a badass chick and a dude who takes off his shirt and-”

“I’m tired,” says Fitz. “I’d like to go to bed, please.”

“I did promise him he could turn in early,” adds Trip. “Y’all won’t be mad if we cut out, right?”

“Certainly not,” Jiaying promises. “Please, go and rest. If you need any more blankets or pillows, there are some in your closet.”

Fitz smiles tiredly. “Thanks. Night, all.” Trip gives them a wave and smile as he leads Fitz toward the stairs.

Skye gets up to follow them. “I gotta get it out of my room. Oh my god, this is the best thing ever.”

“This wine is amazing,” Jemma says to Jiaying when they’re alone.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jiaying chuckles. “I have to go a bit out of my way to get it, but it’s worth it.”

“It very much is,” Jemma declares, grinning.

Skye comes charging back downstairs holding the DVD case. “Okay! Where’s your TV?”

“I have it set up in the next room,” Jiaying says, motioning in the appropriate direction.

“Help me up,” Jemma implores, making puppy eyes at Skye.

Skye reaches down to grab her hand, cooing a bit. “You’re adorable.”

“Thank you,” Jemma declares.

Jiaying says nothing, but smiles fondly.

 

* * *

 

As if making up for lost time, Jiaying prepares breakfast the next morning, bacon and eggs and pancakes and plenty of coffee and tea and juice, and she manages to get this done before any of the kids wake up and stumble downstairs.

“Holy shit,” says Skye, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. “That’s more breakfast than I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Well, there are four of you, and you likely have different tastes,” Jiaying replies.

“I’m not complaining, I just…” Skye’s staring at the table. “Thanks.”

“Yes, it all looks wonderful,” Jemma chimes in.

Fitz grunts a hello and stumbles forward to plop himself in a chair. Trip, on the other hand, is all smiles as he slides into the chair next to Fitz. “Good morning,” he says to everyone.

Skye follows his lead, dishing up a plateful of eggs and bacon and wolfing down about half of the eggs before pausing. “Uh, you didn’t wanna say grace or anything, did you?” she asks, glancing at Jiaying.

Jiaying laughs. “The thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind,” she says.

“Y’know, being raised by nuns will fuck up your routine,” replies Skye cheerfully.

“Nuns? Where?” mumbles Fitz, blinking sleepily.

“Thankfully, not here,” Jemma says wryly, pouring herself some tea and nodding her thanks at Jiaying.

“Did everyone sleep well?” Jiaying asks.

“Fine, thanks,” replies Trip. “Fitz here is just not used to early mornings.” He rubs Fitz’s back fondly.

Skye nods. “Yeah, your beds are super comfy, thank you.”

“Of course,” Jiaying says. “Once you finish eating, we should discuss what your plans are today.”

Skye finishes off another plateful of eggs and bacon in the time it takes the others to finish their original plates. “Okay, so what were you thinking for today?” she asks. “We’re gonna meet our friends from SFIT at some point, but if you wanna do something I’m down for it.”

“Well, I actually have go to into work today, but if you kids wanted to come to the office with me for a little while, I’d be happy to show you around,” Jiaying offers, sounding almost shy.

“Okay! You guys cool with that?”

“I think it would be very interesting!” Jemma chirps.

“Fine,” grunts Fitz, looking slightly more awake now that he’s had a cup of tea.

Trip smiles. “Sure! So uh...what is it that you do, exactly? Skye didn’t say much about it.”

“I founded an organization that works for the benefit of abuse survivors, specifically women and children,” Jiaying explains. “It’s part community outreach, part shelter, and part just us providing the resources that people will need to get back on their feet.”

“Cool.” Trip’s smile gets wider. “That’s important.”

“I want to give people the kind of outlet that I wish I’d had,” Jiaying explains, shrugging casually, “and I want to be able to give back in some way.”

Fitz sits upright, eyes wide. “Oh, oh dear,” he stammers. “I...I hadn’t...I didn’t realize…”

Jiaying waves it off, then reaches for her coffee. “It’s a long time ago now, and channeling my energy into helping others is more productive than obsessing about whatever anger remains.”

“That’s awesome,” says Skye quietly.

Jiaying turns to smile directly at Skye before she continues. “Our headquarters is mostly for fielding phone calls and having our organizational meetings,” she explains. “There are several on-site therapists as well, whose areas we won’t be visiting.” She nods, because she’s sure the kids can figure out why.

“You don’t need to worry,” Jemma assures, “we’ll be very respectful.”

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at the building, Jiaying takes them to her office. “We just relocated to this office about eight months ago,” she explains. “I’m still unpacking things, I apologize for the mess.”

“Are you kidding me? Compared to my place, this is insanely clean.” Skye ambles around the room, noticing that Jiaying’s desk is pretty much entirely lacking personal things. Although the desk lamp does have three bronze pendants hanging off of it. “What’re these?” she asks, reaching for them.

“Oh, uh, they’re to ward off evil spirits,” Jiaying stammers, seeming flustered for the first time since they’ve all met. “I was going to… well, I had them hanging over your crib and I was going to give them to you when you were older, but…” She trails off, looking embarrassed.

Skye blinks. “I...oh.” She’s quiet for a moment and then stammers, “Th-thanks, I guess. I mean, good thought.” She puts her thumb up and immediately feels like the biggest idiot ever.

Jiaying laughs, seeming taken aback. “Thank you,” she says, taking a moment to collect herself before she adds, “I lost the fight with your dad about your name, so it was the least I could do.”

Snorting, Skye replies, “So that explains _Daisy_ , huh?”

“I had wanted Mingzhu,” Jiaying explains. “It was the first in his series of increasingly insistent demands.”

Skye tilts her head, thinking about the name. “Well, it’s definitely better than Daisy,” she says with a laugh. “Sorry Dad turned out to be a dickbag.”

“Well, live and learn,” Jiaying says with a shrug. “I’ve made a better life for myself here.”

“Good.” Skye nods awkwardly. “Me too, I guess. I...I mean, yeah, my life is good too.”

Fitz, who has been intently studying one of the pictures on the wall, suddenly chirps, “I’d like to sit down.”

“Please, use one of the chairs,” Jiaying exclaims, motioning to her seating area.

Fitz flops down and looks up at some of the other pictures for a few moments. Then he makes a surprised noise and says, “That looks like...is that Raina?”

“What?” Skye steps over to take a look. ‘Holy shit, I think it is!”

Jiaying blinks at the photo - one of three women repainting the living room in the shelter, all of them laughing, all of them covered in paint - and, after a pause, says, “The curly-haired woman in the middle? That’s the name she used when she was here, anyway.”

“We know her! She works at the weed store in the mall,” says Fitz. “How long ago was she here?”

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaims, hitting him in the arm. “You’re not supposed to ask things like that.”

Fitz looks wounded. “But I wanted to know.”

“She was about twenty-two at the time,” Jiaying says, expecting this won’t actually clear things up for them.

“Oh, we don’t actually know how old she is now,” replies Fitz. “We’re not really her friends. She hit on Skye once.”

Jiaying chuckles. “That makes sense, Raina was a defensive flirter,” she says. “But I shouldn’t say any more than that, it wouldn’t be right of me.”

“No worries, we get it.” Trip glances at the clock on the wall. “Do you, uh, need to actually do work or anything? Cause we can peace out…”

“I should probably take care of some things,” Jiaying says apologetically. “Go bother Lincoln for a better tour. He’ll oblige.”

“Jiaying, did you want me to leave the paperwork with you or send it to the printers?” The new voice comes from a man wearing comically large sunglasses who’s poked his head into the room.

“I’ll take them,” Jiaying declares, reaching out to do so. “Thank you, Gordon.”

He steps inside to hand her a folder and, with a polite nod at the others, leaves.

“Who was that?” asks Fitz.

“My assistant Gordon,” Jiaying explains. “He handles a lot of the behind-the-scenes work around here.”

Everyone nods and Skye says, “Okay, well, we’ll get out of your hair now. Any idea where Pika- Lincoln would be?”

“My guess would be the reception area,” Jiaying says. “He’s usually in there waiting for the mail at this time of day.”

“Okay. Bye! Uh, we’ll probably meet up with our friends later, text us when you’re all done here.” Skye waves awkwardly.

“All right, have fun,” Jiaying nods. “Have Lincoln give you the house key.”

“Will do!” Skye calls over her shoulder as they leave.

In the reception area, Lincoln is playing on his phone and perks up when they enter the room. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Jiaying said to come find you for a tour,” replies Skye. “So let’s go.”

“Okay! Later, Red,” Lincoln calls to the redheaded receptionist, who gives him a wave. “C’mon, let’s start with the acupuncture room. It’s this way.”

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims eagerly. “Fascinating.” Mostly to Skye and Trip, she says, “Did you know acupuncture is one of many therapeutic activities thought to change the release of neurotransmitters and neurohormones?”

Skye giggles. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“In what context?” asks Fitz, sounding wary.

Skye smirks and doesn’t reply.

When they arrive at the acupuncture room, there’s no one there. There’s a bed in the center of the room, which is decorated more like a living room than a medical office, with candles on every surface and several lamps scattered around.

“Fancy,” says Skye.

“Ugh,” says Fitz. “I don’t like needles. I don’t see the point of this.”

“Well, it’s good for some of our clients who have physical injuries or chronic pain,” replies Lincoln. “But we can move on if you want. It’s pretty straightforward.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll go to the art room next,” announces Lincoln. “No needles there! And nobody else, probably. There aren’t any classes for a few hours.”

“What’s that for?” asks Trip.

“Oh, it’s like, art therapy stuff. Rehab classes for PT patients, and therapy for the clients who need something to focus on. It helps a lot of them. Plus when we get kids, it’s a good place for them to hang out.”

Trip nods. “That’s cool. Sounds like you do a lot of good here.”

Lincoln grins and shrugs. “The actual employees do. I’m basically here to get coffee and sign for packages and drive people places. Whatever Jiaying needs.”

“So what other kinds of therapy do you guys have here?” asks Skye.

“Well, the traditional armchair stuff, of course. Group therapy, the art therapy and acupuncture as mentioned, some PT, and occupational. It’s a nice variety. They’ve managed to find something that works for most of the people that come here.”

“That’s lovely,” Jemma enthuses. “I mean, it’s the opposite of lovely that your work needs to be done in the first place, but it’s lovely that you do it and so thoroughly.”

Lincoln chuckles. “I’ll tell Jiaying that. I’m sure she’ll be flattered.”

 

* * *

 

After the tour (though Fitz parked himself in a chair halfway through and told them to go on without him because he wanted to rest), the four of them walk to the SFIT campus and wait for Honey to meet them.

Fitz seems perkier. “Tadashi said he’ll show us the healthcare companion he’s been working on?”

“That sounds...sketchy,” says Skye.

“It’s not! Baymax is fully equipped for medical emergencies as well as rescue situations, and Tadashi says he can even scan patients to detect their injuries,” replies Fitz indignantly. “It could completely revolutionize healthcare as we know it!”

“We’ll still need doctors,” Jemma says, rolling her eyes rather indignantly. “But this will be helpful in some situations, that’s true.”

“I think it sounds pretty cool,” says Trip, grinning. “Fitz was showing me some of the test footage Tadashi put online. It’ll be fun to see him in action.”

“Yeah, okay, but I still think that robots that can’t shoot lasers are pretty boring,” says Skye.

“Actually! Tadashi said Hiro programmed a karate matrix for him,” corrects Fitz. “He didn’t seem all that thrilled about it, but I guess Hiro insisted.”

Skye grins. “Okay, I’m sold.”

“Hi!!!” shouts Honey, running up much faster than someone should be able to do in four-inch heels. “Oh my gosh, everyone, group around so we can get a picture of you with the campus sign!” She waves them closer and aims her phone camera in their direction.

“Yay tourism,” snarks Gogo as she wanders up (deliberately waiting until after the photo had already been taken). “Hey, guys.”

“Don’t mind her, she’s just being a spoilsport,” Honey sighs melodramatically. “I’m so glad you’re all here! Have you been having a nice time? You have got to tell us everything!”

Skye blinks. “Uh, yeah, it’s been good. We were just at Jia- my mom’s office getting a tour and stuff. She’s gonna be there for a few hours, so we’re pretty much free till dinnertime.”

Fred, who’s wandered up and is puffing on a joint, waves lazily. “Want some?” he asks, offering it.

“No thanks,” says Fitz, looking vaguely affronted.

“After we see your lab, would you mind terribly if we wanted a tour of the botanical garden?” Jemma asks, feeling she needs to follow through in addition to being genuinely interested.

“Sure,” says Gogo with a shrug. “Tadashi and Hiro are cleaning Baymax and Wasabi’s finishing up something or other, so we can just head up there now and then leave from there.”

“Cool!” says Skye. “I hear the robot does karate?”

“Yeah!” says Fred. “It’s awesome! He’s like a superhero or something!”

“A very puffy friendly superhero,” Honey amends. “C’mon, the lab is this way.” She starts in the appropriate direction, motioning for the others to follow.

When they arrive, Hiro glances up at the open door and waves. “Hi! Just a sec.” Wasabi is entirely focused on whatever’s on his table and doesn’t acknowledge them.

“We can start with mine!” Honey offers, waving them over and pulling her hair into a ponytail.

She demonstrates the...Skye has no idea what it’s called, but she sprays a giant metal ball with pink stuff and pokes it and it disappears, leaving a dusting of pink stuff all over everything. “Woah!” Skye gasps. “That’s so cool!”

“Chemical embrittlement!” Honey exclaims, wiping pink off of her lab glasses and grinning.

“Oh my goodness, amazing!” Jemma says. “I admit I’m a bit jealous of the freedom you have to experiment as you like. I adore our program, but as you saw, it’s a bit less devil-may-care.”

Honey and Jemma start talking science and Skye has no idea what they’re saying, and she tried to listen, she really did, but then there’s a robot in the other corner so she starts wandering over there (she feels less bad about it noticing that Fitz has dragged Trip over that way too). Tadashi looks up from where he’s checking something on the computer and grins. “Hey, guys! It’s great to have you here.”

“Great to be here,” says Fitz. “I don’t suppose...you could…” He glances over at Baymax, who’s obligingly turning around slowly as Hiro dries him off with a towel.

“Oh, of course!” Tadashi smiles. “Hiro, c’mere.”

Hiro sighs. “Fine.” He comes over and holds out his arm while making an indignant face. Tadashi rips off a piece of duct tape and slaps it onto his arm, and when he pulls it off Hiro says “Ow” but in the most reluctant way possible.

Baymax toddles over. “Hello, I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I heard a sound of distress!”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Hiro. “Scan me, pal.” He puts out his other arm.

Baymax moves his head and there’s a red beam of light that passes over Hiro, before Baymax announces, “You have a slight abrasion on your forearm. I recommend an antiseptic spray.” He puts out his right hand and sprays Hiro’s arm with his finger.

“Thanks, buddy.” Hiro pats the robot’s arm and glares at Tadashi, who just looks amused.

“That’s really cool,” says Skye. “So he can tell what’s wrong with you just from one scan?”

“Yeah, he takes note of your vitals, blood pressure, blood type, and a bunch of other stuff as well as scanning for internal and external injuries,” explains Tadashi. “I wanted him to be as versatile as possible.”

Baymax glances over at Skye, Fitz, and Trip. “Hello! I am Baymax.” He waves his hand slowly in a circle.

Skye grins. “Hey,” she says, putting her own hand up. “You wanna scan me?”

“Very well. Please put your arms out and to your sides.” Skye does, and Baymax scans her, then announces, “There are no signs of physical ailments, although I do detect an elevated heartrate. You are excited?”

“Hell yeah I’m excited!” says Skye. “This is awesome!”

“You haven’t seen anything yet!” replies Hiro, grinning. “C’mon, Baymax, let’s go show off your new skills.” He beckons for Baymax and the others to follow him out into the hallway.

“Jemma! Jemma, c’mon, they’re gonna show us something cool!” Skye says, bouncing over to grab Jemma’s arm.

Jemma squeaks, tipping into Skye and attempting to right herself before they get moving. “Does this involve a healthcare companion doing action movie party tricks?” she asks playfully.

“Maybe! C’mon, we’re gonna miss it!” Skye tugs on her arm and looks at her pleadingly.

“Fine, fine,” Jemma laughs, then asking Honey, “Are you coming too?”

Honey giggles. “It’s a wonderful show, you go and enjoy,” she says.

Hiro leads them to a small janitor’s closet and opens the door, letting Baymax go in first. Inside, there’s a stack of two-by-fours on cement blocks, as well as several other pieces of wood. “Okay, big guy, let’s do this!” Hiro grabs a piece of wood. “Front kick!”

Baymax’s body stiffens slightly, and he kicks at the board, breaking it in two instantly.

“Knife hand! Hammer fist! Roundhouse!” As Hiro calls out commands, Baymax demonstrates the moves, his hands and feet demolishing the pieces of wood. At the end of the show, Hiro and Baymax bow, and Fred slow claps.

Tadashi chuckles. “Well, it definitely looks cool.”

“Right?” Hiro turns to the newcomers, grinning broadly.

Fitz is grinning too. “Very nice.”

Jemma nods at Tadashi. “How exactly did you rationalize your healthcare robot learning martial arts?” she asks, though it sounds like a tease as much as a genuine question.

Tadashi shrugs good-naturedly. “What did you say, burglaries?” he asks Hiro.

“Sure! Burglaries, or maybe like some kind of mugging situation! You never know,” Hiro says with a lazy grin.

Trip laughs, nodding. “Well, this is pretty awesome. You guys are brilliant.”

Skye holds out her hand. “High fives? You guys deserve that.”

Hiro hops a little to slap Skye’s hand. “Thanks! We’re pretty great.” Tadashi also high fives her, looking amused at how his little brother speaks for him. Then he turns to Hiro and they bump fists, making an explosion noise as their hands spring apart.

Then Skye turns to high five Baymax too. “Uh, does he know that?” she asks.

“Actually, he knows fist bump!” says Hiro. “Try it.”

Skye does, mimicking the hand motion the boys had done, and Baymax waves his fingers as he moves his hand away and chirps, “Ba-la-la-la-la-la!” Which makes Skye immediately shriek “OH MY GOD, best robot ever!”

Jemma is snickering. “That’s rather delightful,” she admits.

“Okay, probably time to put him back on his charging station now,” says Tadashi with a smirk. He begins to herd Baymax and Hiro out of the room.

When they get back to the lab, Wasabi finally glances up. “Aw, did I miss the karate demonstration?”

“You’ve seen it eight times,” says Gogo.

“Yeah, but it’s so cool! Except you should probably clean up the wood more than once a week, you know.”

“That’s what she said,” Fred grins.

Wasabi glares. “Anyway, what are we doing now?”

“Well, they were wanting to see the botanical gardens,” Honey explains. “And I think that would be a lovely way to spend the rest of the afternoon!”

Hiro’s stomach rumbles and Baymax announces, “Hiro is hungry! Please remedy this by finding appropriate nourishing foodstuffs.”

“Good plan,” chuckles Tadashi. “How about we work on that and then head for the gardens?”

 

* * *

 

The garden is exactly as expected, really, a variety of flora arranged pleasingly, and Jemma keeps stopping at every plaque to read about the particular plants growing. When one is designated as being native to the area, she waves Honey over to clarify details, and more often than not Wasabi joins in.

Hiro and Skye, meanwhile, are playing with Hiro’s Megabot that he smuggled in. Skye seems to particularly enjoy making it chase squirrels and birds, the angry red face showing. It took her a few minutes to get the hang of the controls, but now she’s handling it like a pro.

Fred is studying the plaques too, but for a different reason entirely. “I wonder whether this would be any good,” he murmurs while looking at a tree labeled Vitex agnus-castus. He glances around quickly, then reaches to pull some of the leaves off.

But Tadashi is too quick for him. “No you don’t!” he says, pulling Fred’s hand away. “Didn’t you ever learn not to smoke strange plants?”

“Nah. It always works out pretty well for me,” shrugs Fred.

“Yeah, sure does,” replies Gogo, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure the ER doctors would agree with you.”

“Yolo!” says Fred cheerfully, taking a drag of his regular joint.

“Is he always so… blatant?” Jemma asks Honey and Wasabi in a whisper.

“Well…” Honey begins, looking distressed.

“Pretty much,” chimes in Wasabi.

“My,” Jemma says, making a face that rather explains how she feels about that (disapproving, but not so that she’s going to make a fuss to any great degree).

The various groups move forward at their own paces, with Trip, Fitz, and Gogo ending up vaguely together since all three are not particularly interested in anything. So they’re sort of meandering along, when Trip notices Gogo watching Honey. Not in a creepy way, but she’s kind of...gazing? Which is interesting.

Trip waits until Gogo’s attention is drawn somewhere else before asking casually, “So, is there something going on with you and Honey?”

“What?” Gogo looks startled. “No. Why would you think that?”

“I mean, I don’t wanna pry,” says Trip quickly. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s cool, but you were just looking at her and it was real sweet. Thought it might mean something.”

Gogo’s eyes dart away. “Maybe. I dunno.”

Fitz glances up from the plaque he’s reading. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” chuckles Trip, patting his arm. Then he says to Gogo, “Well, it’s really none of my business, but you might wanna stop lookin’ at her all doe-eyed if it’s really nothing. Give people the wrong idea.” He winks.

Snorting, Gogo replies, “Please. I’ve never been doe-eyed in my life.”

“Well, better not start now,” replies Trip with a grin.

“Hey, so while I’m thinking about it,” says Tadashi, after a few more minutes in the gardens, “what’s the plan for Disneyland tomorrow? What time do you guys need us at your mom’s place, Skye?”


	44. so I sing and hold my head down and I break these walls round me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiaying takes the kids to Disneyland and California Adventures. Various forms of wackiness ensue.

“Does everyone have their tickets and things?” Jemma asks, walking backward to make sure she can see everyone.

“We’re fine, Jemma,” says Skye reassuringly. “We’re all grown-ups here. Well...mostly everyone,” she adds, glancing at Hiro. Hiro sticks out his tongue. “We remembered.”

“I just want to be sure,” Jemma mumbles, grabbing nervously at her purse strap. Skye squeezes her hand.

Gogo says, “We should take a picture by one of the giant letters,” nodding at the enormous CALIFORNIA sculpture at the gates of the park. “Y’know, since you like tourist selfies so much,” she adds to Honey, smirking.

Trip, who’s been vaguely listening to the group at large, notices this and nods to himself.

“F for Fred!” says Fred, jumping a little. “The best letter!”

“And for Fitz,” adds Fitz, before mumbling, “It’s better than my other letter, anyway.”

Honey beams. “Perfect!” She grabs Gogo’s arm and starts to hurry over in that direction, looking absolutely delighted.

“I guess we’d better follow,” Jiaying murmurs, amused.

They do, crowding together under the giant F obligingly. Skye and Hiro immediately make terrible faces.

“On three!” Honey shouts, lifting her phone. “One, two, three!” The phone makes a cute little shutter-click noise.

“Okay, now can we go in?” asks Hiro, who’s trying to play it cool but is obviously excited.

“Not so fast,” says Tadashi, pointing at the line of people waiting ahead of them.

“I know, but it’s still waiting _in_ line!” Hiro sprints ahead. “C’mon!”

Tadashi rolls his eyes fondly. “That kid.”

 

* * *

 

“So do we have a plan?” asks Wasabi, when they’ve stopped inside the park by a giant sun-shaped sculpture. “I did some research about what’s new and fun here. I guess Cars Land is the newest section…”

“No thanks!” interrupts Fitz. “No _Cars_ , please. _Cars_ is horrid.”

“Oh, no,” Jemma mumbles, mostly to Skye. She’s heard this before.

“It’s by far the weakest of Pixar’s movies worldbuilding-wise, and storywise it’s entirely ripped off of _Doc Hollywood._ Why do that? Five-year-olds aren’t going to know that reference! And what’s more, it’s never explained where the cars come from. Are they built? Do parent cars get to order a child car? Or are they never children at all? Are they simply rolled out from the production line as young adults into the world and given no time to adjust? Who builds them? Other cars? That’s a bit fucked up, isn’t it? To say nothing of why cars are the only beings in the films! Did humans all die out and the cars somehow began to evolve into bioelectric beings? Why are the tractors cows? Why do they _need_ cows? Surely they don’t need the milk...do they secrete gasoline? Do they _eat_ the tractor-cows?”

Fred gasps. “Oh my god, I’d never thought of it that way. Is it a post-apocalyptic film? That’s deep, man. You’re brilliant. The cars were the only ones to survive in a harsh desert wasteland.”

“Ooooookay, not that I’m not into fun conspiracy theories about kid’s movies and all, but I’m gonna head for Toy Story Mania,” says Hiro. “You guys have fun with that.” He starts for the giant Mickey Mouse head roller coaster.

“That’s a safe option,” Jemma agrees, tugging Skye’s hand. “It’s a shooting game, but it’s also very much not. Come on!”

The others start to follow, though Trip hangs back to comfort Fitz for a moment. Wasabi says, “Let’s start a game! How many fedoras can you see? I’ve got two already!”

Skye snorts. “Is this like, a game to see what people not to talk to?” Gogo gives her a high five.

Wasabi shrugs. “Whatever you want it to be.”

They make their way through the crowd, all of them staring at different passersby and attractions on the way, and they manage to only lose Fred once (Honey whispers to Jemma that this is, in fact, an accomplishment). The line itself is at least in the shade, so the time that passes while they’re in it isn’t excruciating, though the same few jokes being told by the giant animatronic Mr. Potato Head over and over isn’t exactly wonderful.

“Skye, sit with me!” says Hiro. “We’ll kick ass!”

“Okay!” Skye grins. “Sorry, Jem, can you manage without me?”

Jemma rolls her eyes playfully. “I’d been doing just fine the first twenty-odd years of my life, so while I am going to insist on sitting with you on the rides where we can hold hands, I can let you go for this one,” she says. “Want to pair off, Fitz?”

“Oh, alright!” Fitz glances at Trip. “That’s, um, alright with you, yeah?”

“‘Course,” says Trip. “I can sit with you if you like, Jiaying?”

“How kind of you to offer,” Jiaying smiles.

From there it’s easy to sort out: in order to keep Fred from being the one sitting with an innocent child, Honey volunteers to sit with him; Gogo and Tadashi shrug and team up; Wasabi, though he looks not entirely thrilled about sitting next to a random person with possible random germs, agrees to be the solo rider this time around. By the time they’re at the front of the line it’s wholly decided, and the pairs slide into the slow-moving cars cheerfully.

The ride itself is more straightforward than it seems: after getting their 3D glasses on, they’re taken through a series of animated game screens where they use the shooters their cars are equipped with to aim darts, pies, and other miscellaneous objects at cartoon targets designed to resemble various carnival attractions. Jemma and Fitz are both laughably bad at it, which she expected and may have chosen him as a partner because of in order to avoid competition, but the others all seem to be making a decent showing.

“I never saw these movies,” Gogo says to Tadashi. “Why are they all so cheerful?”

Tadashi laughs. “To engage the kids, I guess?”

Gogo rolls her eyes.

The ride ends and once they’re out and recycling their 3D glasses, they start comparing scores. “400014!” cheers Hiro. “Beat that!”

“Almost did, nerd,” says Skye, grinning. “399998.”

Hiro scoffs. “Beginner’s luck!”

“Hiro, you’ve never ridden this either,” Honey chides.

“Yeah, but I’ve played enough games like it,” shrugs Hiro. “But _you_ haven’t,” he says to Skye teasingly.

“Hey, fetus, you realize I’ve been playing games since before you were _alive_? Try _Duck Hunt_ sometime, see how you like that.”

“I’m still mystified by younger generations’ ability to excel in things like this,” Jiaying murmurs, though it sounds like a compliment. “I don’t know how I even managed 74980.”

Immediately Jemma blushes, reaching for her phone apparently to respond to a text message (Fitz can tell she’s faking).

“How’d you do, Jem?” asks Skye.

“Divide that score by, ah, approximately three,” Jemma says sheepishly.

“Aww.” Skye pats her shoulder. “It’s okay. You always kick my ass at Scrabble.”

Jemma turns to rest her head against Skye’s shoulder a moment, mumbling what is probably a thank you.

“So, the line for the roller coaster is right over there, looks like,” says Tadashi, “if we wanna go there next.”

“Yes, please!” Honey exclaims, grinning.

“I’ve got dramamine for whoever wants it,” Jemma adds.

Wasabi holds out his hand, looking relieved.

Jemma grins, digging around in her bag for the packet and then tearing one off for him. “Anyone else? It’s better safe than sorry, I think,” she declares before taking some herself.

“A decent point,” Jiaying agrees, accepting some as well.

As a group, everyone seems to decide to follow Jiaying’s lead, taking some for themselves. In Skye’s case, it’s to avoid the embarrassment of throwing up in front of her mom for the first time at age twenty-one; in Tadashi’s, it’s to set a good example for Hiro (who has also taken some but is whining about the chalky taste).

They’re in the queue about five minutes when Fitz starts in explaining functions of the design of the roller coaster to Trip, based on research he’s done and also observation: the launching lift hill is the most unique thing about it, though of course it’s not the only roller coaster in the world with a launching lift hill, but before he’s even finished the other engineering students chime in, too, which means it’s only a matter of time before Gogo turns it into a debate about which is the best kind of roller coaster to really get that rush of adrenaline.

While that’s going on, Skye leans over to Honey and asks, in what she thinks is a subtle tone, “Hey, Honey. Are you doing Gogo?” Of course, her idea of subtle is accompanied by raised eyebrows and her normal speaking voice.

Honey’s eyes go wider than usual and Jemma hisses, “ _Skye,_ really!”

Skye rolls her eyes and, holding her hand up to form a cover of sorts, stage-whispers, “Hey, Honey, are you doing Gogo?”

“No!” Honey squeaks, visibly flustered. “I’m - I mean, we’re not - I mean she’s - but…”

“So that’s a ‘not yet,’” replies Skye with a smirk.

Honey glances over at Gogo, currently educating the boys on what really constitutes a high-octane roller coaster. “It’s an I care about her very much and would never jeopardize that,” she says diplomatically.

That gives Skye pause. “Gotcha,” she says, nodding.

Jiaying ends up opting to be the single rider for this ride, though the line is arranged such that she doesn’t wind up sitting next to a stranger but just gets to go by herself; Fitz is nervously chattering to Trip. “...and I once read an entire book about the physics of roller coasters, it was very comforting, turns out knowing the science behind it makes it less frighten-ING!” The last syllable is a drawn-out shriek as the ride launches them forward suddenly.

The ride goes quickly, as rides like this often do, and they all scream (some louder than others) as they speed over hills and around corners and through the loop in front of the Mickey head. By the time the ride ends and they step off, they’re all varying shades of breathless and flushed and windblown (Honey’s long hair is a wind-whipped mess, one she tries to tame with a brush pulled from her purse; Wasabi is generally disheveled and muttering the periodic table of the elements in a kind of soothing mantra as he brushes himself off).

“Well!” Jemma exclaims, though she sounds the slightest bit shaky. “That was certainly something.” She reaches for Skye’s hand as if to ground her.

“Yeah,” says Tadashi, running a hand through his hair. “Get what you paid for with that one.”

Gogo’s smiling for real. “I loved it.”

“Oh my gosh!” Honey shrieks, waving madly at a booth nearby. “There are photos!” She runs over to find their group’s pictures, giggling.

Fitz ambles over to join her, notices the expression he’s making, and grunts, “Nope.”

“Well, I’m getting one,” Honey exclaims. “But I won’t share it with people if you don’t want?” That, said to Gogo and Wasabi and Fred, being as they’re the other ones in the frame.

Fred shrugs. “Whatever, it’s all good to me.”

“I’m not screaming, so that’s fine,” replies Gogo. She’s not; she looks as happy as someone can while still closing their mouth.

Honey beams, paying for the photo and carefully sliding it in her purse before turning back to the group. “Where to next?” she asks brightly.

“Tower of Terror!” chirps Skye, grabbing Jemma’s arm. “C’mon!”

“So soon after the roller coaster?” Jemma asks, looking vaguely horrified.

“Yeah!” Skye nods, grinning. “It’s supposed to be super fun!”

“You know, you don’t have to pretend dropping god knows how many stories straight down is fun if you don’t want to,” says Fitz quietly to Jemma.

“Thirteen, about,” Jemma mutters, making a face.

“I’d be happy to go with you, if Jemma wants to sit this one out,” Jiaying offers, with that same shy “mom things?” voice.

“Oh!” Skye’s a little surprised, but she brushes it off and nods. “Sure!”

“I think it sounds exciting,” Jiaying says, and though she doesn’t entirely sound convinced of this, she’s clearly making an effort.

“I wanna go too!” says Hiro.

“And me,” adds Gogo.

Fred steps forward too. “Sounds awesome.”

“Okay! So we’ll go do that and....meet the rest of you....” Skye trails off, glancing at the rest of the group.

“On a bench,” insists Fitz. “You can meet us wherever that ends up being.”

“You’ve got our numbers,” Honey says, “you can text us once you’re out?”

Skye nods and turns to leave, beckoning impatiently. “Let’s go!”

“I saw this movie,” says Fred as they walk. “It was kinda weird and fucked up. There was a lotta suicide in the backstory for a kids’ movie.”

“How high were you?” asks Gogo skeptically.

“Respectably,” replies Fred. “It made the 3D better, I gotta say.”

Jiaying looks mildly shocked, and Skye quickly says, “Wow, this building is pretty neat! It actually looks like a hotel and stuff!”

Hiro giggles behind his hand, but then nods and says, “Gee whiz,” in an overly cloying tone. Skye glares at him, but at least Jiaying seems to be appropriately distracted.

“It’s very appropriately old Hollywood,” she offers, raising her eyebrow at some of the “artifacts” behind the velvet ropes.

Skye glances at Gogo, hoping her face is appropriately reading _please don’t say anything weird or embarrassing in front of my mom she’s a grown-up_. Gogo seems to at least get the panic from that and says, “It’s cool. I dig this place.”

Nodding, Fred says, “ _The Twilight Zone_ is pretty legit.”

Thankfully, Skye’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out to see a text from Jemma.

>> _How is it going? We’re still looking for a place to sit that’s out of the way enough, so Fitz is very cranky, but Honey has done some shopping!_

Skye smiles and takes a second to reply.

>> _Good luck! Fred keeps talking about weed, but other than that we’re doing okay._

“Jemma, I assume?” Jiaying asks, smiling.

“Yeah, she just wanted to check in. I guess they’re having trouble finding someplace to sit.” Skye rolls her eyes. “Fitz is picky as fuck.”

“Wasabi too,” replies Gogo with a smirk. “Good to know it’s not just our little group with a finicky weirdo.”

“I like that word. Finicky.” Fred makes a vague gesture with his hands and smiles.

It’s not long before the queue leads them to the room with the video introduction, the vague backstory of the ride (Skye looks right at Gogo and mouths “spoopy,” which has the added benefit of sending Fred into silent hysterics) that kills time until they get to the second part of the line. This setting is much more industrial, but they pass through it faster, and then they’re taking in their seats on the ride.

They luck out and get the front row, Hiro slipping into the seat and eagerly asking Skye if he’ll sit next to her (Jiaying slides in next to her daughter, seeming amused), while Gogo and Fred slip into the other side. They’re treated to more ominous narration before the car starts to jostle them, and after the doors in front of them open, the ride plummets. And then climbs, and then plummets again, repeating this until it seems satisfied. Throughout, Skye screams loudly and excitedly, Hiro yells, Fred seems to have genuinely not been expecting the drops, and Jiaying’s infrequent screaming is mixed with giggles at the absurdity of it all. Gogo doesn’t scream.

When they climb out, Hiro and Skye are chattering excitedly about the ride, and Fred exclaims, “Ooh, gift shop!” and ambles over in that direction. The others follow, Gogo smirking and Jiaying looking exhilarated.

After Fred deliberates for far too long about what to buy, they eventually leave (he decided on a lobby bell sporting the name and logo of the hotel) and wander off down Hollywood’s main street. Hiro spots the sign for Animation Academy and points. “I’m gonna go in there! It’s probably air-conditioned,” he explains.

“Hey, you’re smart,” teases Skye. “You guys all good with that? I could go with some AC right now.”

They agree, and wander inside. The next class starts in about twenty minutes, so Skye texts a heads-up to the others - she assumes Fitz will be glad of the opportunity to sit down in a space that’s fairly quiet and also nicer than outside.

Their arrival is heralded by Honey squealing, “Gogo, I bought you a present!” On her head is a pair of pink sequined mouse ears with a bow, so the content of this present is worrying.

Gogo cocks her head. “Oh yeah?”

Grinning, Honey pulls another pair of mouse ears out of a bag and places them on Gogo’s head. “Souvenirs!” she chirps.

“Thanks.” Gogo sounds annoyed, but she can’t keep the tiny smile off her face.

“Aren’t you glad I don’t have a disproportionate affinity for sequins?” Jemma whispers to Skye.

 

* * *

 

“Fred, if you don’t stop dinging that stupid bell I will throw it into the lake,” hisses Wasabi.

Fred shrugs. “I’m moved by the music, I can’t help it.”

“Thank you for saving these seats for us,” Jemma says to Fitz. “They’re wonderful, right on the lake and all.”

“Sure,” says Fitz, practically preening. “I thought they’d do nicely.”

Hiro and Tadashi walk back to the group holding an assortment of ice cream bars. “Here you go, guys!” Tadashi starts passing them out.

“Thanks!” Skye takes one, grinning.

“Yes, thank you,” Jiaying agrees. “I don’t think I’ve eaten this much junk food in one day… well, ever, really. I’m not complaining, though. It’s part of the experience.”

“How have you never been here, anyway?” asks Trip. “I mean, the only reason I’ve been is that my uncle took me for my birthday once, but you only live a few hours away.”

Jiaying shrugs, unwrapping her ice cream and smiling at Skye. “I’ve just never had a reason before now,” she says.

That makes Skye smile and look at the ground. “God, I’m not good at, uh, feelings and shit, but thank you,” she murmurs.

“Of course,” Jiaying murmurs, but she lets the subject drop because she doesn’t want to embarrass Skye further.

“How was your stupid hang-gliding ride?” Gogo asks Wasabi. Her tone is light; she’s not really making fun of it.

“Great!” retorts Wasabi. “They take you past the bridge and over the vineyards and the ocean and the mountains and-”

“It was quite relaxing,” interrupts Fitz with a smile.

Hiro nods. “I’m gonna get Baymax to fly like that!”

“Oh really?” teases Tadashi, ruffling Hiro’s hair. “And whose robot is he again?”

“Yours, but I’m making him more awesome!”

“And what did you guys end up doing?” Trip asks the girls. The boys had split off to go on Soarin’ Over California, leaving them to their own devices.

“Well,” Jemma says, “first we went to ride the other roller coaster, Goofy’s Sky School or whatever they call it, I’m not sure why they call it that but it was all right.”

Gogo shrugs. “Kinda dinky, but it was alright.”

“And then we went to ride the rapids ride,” Jemma continues eagerly.

“I don’t regret having to take a phone call,” Jiaying admits wryly. “I could do without getting soaked through.”

“And then we went to the Little Mermaid ride to dry off because dammit, most princesses don’t even get a ride, so even if it’s dumb I want to ride it,” Jemma finishes.

“Also I got to be grossly adorable with you, so there’s that,” says Skye, poking Jemma in the arm. “Look, the fireworks are starting!”

 

* * *

 

“Dare you to eat that waffle in as few bites as possible.”

Hiro grins. “Please. What is this, amateur hour?” He immediately sets in on it like a starving dog.

Skye looks smug, while Tadashi sighs. “You had to dare him, didn’t you?” he asks.

“Well, yeah, it’s funny!”

“Is this sort of thing normal?” Jiaying asks, sounding mostly curious.

“Unfortunately, yes,” replies Wasabi, watching Hiro in revolted fascination.

“I think I’m beginning to understand your motivation behind creating a healthcare companion,” Jemma says to Tadashi.

Tadashi chuckles. “Well, there’s more to it than that, but this kid could definitely use someone else to look after him.” He rolls his eyes fondly as Hiro chokes down the last chunk of waffle.

“Six bites!” whoops Hiro. “Beat that!”

“You kidding me? I just wanted to see you make an idiot out of yourself,” teases Skye.

“You know what’s really good on waffles?” asks Fred. “Nutella.”

“Too bad you don’t have any,” says Wasabi, looking wary.

“OR DO I!” Fred magicks a jar out of what seems like thin air.

Gogo’s eyes widen slightly. “Jesus, Fred. Where did you have that stashed?”

“In the alternate dimension,” he says without a hint of irony. “Anyone want some?”

“No, thank you,” Honey says faintly, like she’s trying not to be horrified.

Fred glances around, sees he has no takers, and shrugs. “Your loss, dudes.” He begins to spread globs of Nutella generously on his remaining waffles.

“I really don’t know if it’s a great idea to have such a large breakfast,” Jemma mumbles, wrinkling her nose. “We’re going to be riding rides all day, it might… be best…” She shrugs down at her rather sad little English muffin.

Skye pats her shoulder. “You’re cute. Thanks for worrying about us.”

“I just know who’s going to wind up doctoring you if you fall ill,” Jemma replies.

“We’ll be careful,” says Trip with a smile.

“What are we doing today, anyway?” Wasabi asks.

Fitz raises a hand like he’s in school. “Actually, I was rather hoping we could go on the Jungle Cruise. I thought there’d probably be monkeys, and…”

“There are monkeys at the zoo, too, which you theoretically could visit whenever you want,” Jemma points out, trying not to roll her eyes. “I highly doubt this would be worth it.”

Pouting, Fitz replies, “But not _these_ monkeys!”

Trip chuckles. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I wanna go to Indiana Jones!” says Skye.

“Yeah!” adds Hiro. “I hear that ride’s awesome!”

“Conveniently, they’re neighbors,” Jemma says, nodding to the map she’s had unfolded beside her this whole time.

“We should do Big Thunder Mountain, too,” Honey chimes in. “It looks so cute!”

“Sounds good to me,” says Tadashi. “You ready to go there, kid?” He glances at Hiro, who’s guzzling a glass of milk.

“You bet!” says Hiro, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

“It’s the leafiest tree in the wildernesssssss!” sings Fred loudly, doing a fairly decent impression of the Big Thunder Mountain voiceover. Everyone giggles.

“That’s the sequiniest headband in the wiiiilderness,” says Gogo, smirking and pointing at Honey’s mouse ears.

Jiaying, who’s been sitting over in New Orleans Square waiting for the kids since she got a pressing phone call in the middle of the Jungle Cruise, tips her head curiously. “There’s a new joke, apparently,” she says, though it’s halfway a question.

“Yeah, the railroad had this stupid voiceover that was like ‘It’s the wildest ride in the wiiiiiiilldernesss,’” explains Skye with a grin, adjusting her brand new Indiana Jones fedora. “It was fucking hilarious.”

“I see,” Jiaying murmurs. “And you bought more souvenirs!”

“Totally!” says Skye, snapping her fake whip. “Where else am I gonna find overpriced Indiana Jones crap?”

Hiro snaps his whip and whacks her on the leg (not that it hurts her since it’s just soft rope). “Nowhere!” he says, grinning. Skye flicks him on the arm in return.

“You’re not bringing that into the lab,” Tadashi says, but he’s smiling.

“Well, I’ve checked the wait times on the app,” Jemma says, “and the line for Pirates is just slightly shorter, so do we want to do that one first?”

There’s general agreement, and they head in the direction of the ride. “Barbossa was always my favorite part of these movies,” comments Trip. “Geoffrey Rush seemed like he was having a great time.”

“I loved these movies,” says Skye. “I snuck into every single one of them, even when I had money. It just seemed fitting.” She grins.

Jiaying chuckles. “You might have to just give me a list of movies to catch up on,” she says to Skye. The implication being that she’s interested in learning about what interests her daughter.

“Okay!” Skye smiles kind of shyly. “I’ll do that.”

They’re all quiet for a minute, and then Fred says, “The scariest thing about these movies was when I realized that we all have skeletons _inside_ ourselves.”

Honey chuckles. “I wish we’d have gotten to know more lady pirates, though. Elizabeth should have joined up with - oh, what was her name, from the first film?”

“Zoe Saldana,” says Trip. “Badass girl, right there. I would’ve liked to see more of her.”

“Yes!” Honey exclaims. “And much more aesthetically appealing than Johnny Depp.”

“Hell yes,” nods Gogo.

By this point, Jemma is both nodding and blushing furiously, which Skye notices. “Should I be jealous, honey?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“No,” Jemma mumbles, “no jealousy required, promise.” She squeezes Skye’s hand.

They make their way through the line and get herded into a boat, and then it’s off through fake cricket noises and spooky narration to the ride itself. Despite attempts to make it seem scary at first, the giant dioramas of life in an island town besieged by pirates are more silly than anything, and the only noteworthy part of the Johnny Depp mannequins is how disjointed they look next to the old-fashioned caricatures that populate the rest of the scenes.

But on the way back to the starting gate, Honey spots a painting on the wall and grabs Gogo’s arm, shouting, “Lady pirates! Oh, yay!” Anne Bonny and Mary Read, the caption declares.

“They look kind of like Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, if they were pirates,” comments Skye.

“Those were two of the most infamous pirates who ever lived,” Tadashi says. “They both started out dressing as boys and eventually became part of the same crew. The book I read said they were more vicious than a lot of the guys they sailed with.”

“Cool!” Skye says, grinning. “So were they gal pals, or like... _gal pals_?”

Tadashi laughs. “Probably both, actually.”

They’re barely out of the building when Jemma announces, “Wait time is only ten minutes at the Haunted Mansion!”

“But what about the gift shop?” asks Skye, making a puppy-dog face. “I wanna buy pirate toys.”

“We can come back,” Jemma points out. “And you might want to buy spoopy ghost toys instead, so don’t be so hasty.”

Skye snorts. “God, it’s scary how well you know me.”

As they walk to the Haunted Mansion, Jiaying nudges Skye and whispers, “That’s a blessing. You’re lucky to have that in her, I don’t think I ever came close.” The _with your father_ goes without saying.

Skye chuckles a little nervously and says, “Thanks. I...I’m pretty lucky to have her in general.”

Jiaying just smiles.

The line goes just as quickly as promised, but as they’re stopping at the door to be let in they see an attendant, presumably given the task of regulating the line, just standing there and smiling eerily while curling and uncurling his hand into a fist; it’s positioned like he’s saying hello, but it’s not a wave hello, period.

Honey laughs and returns the not-wave as they step into the elevator chamber, although her attempts to be creepy are woefully lacking.

“I’m not sure you could be creepy if your life depended on it,” says Gogo with a small smile.

When the elevator starts descending, Skye grabs Jemma’s arm, though she tries to play it cool immediately after. “It startled me.”

“You’re adorable,” Jemma whispers. As the elevator doors open and they begin to make their way toward the cars, she turns to Jiaying and says, “I think I’m going to need to sit with her for this one, just in case.”

“I understand completely,” Jiaying says.

“I’ll go with you!” Honey offers brightly.

“Thank you,” Jiaying replies with a polite nod. “My apologies for throwing off the numbers and turning the trip into a game of ‘pass the mom.’”

“Don’t be silly!” Honey exclaims.

“Hey, I’m happy you’re here,” Skye says. “I think it’s great. I never got to do dumb shit like this, and now I do, and it’s great. So thanks, Jiaying.”

“You’re welcome,” Jiaying says. She didn’t mean it in that way, self-deprecation is just too easy sometimes, but it’s obvious from her tone how much she appreciates Skye’s words.

Fred puts up a hand. “I’ll go it alone, it’s no big. I’m pretty good company for myself.”

Honey and Jiaying are the first to slide into a car, followed by Skye and Jemma, Fred, Fitz and Trip, Gogo and Hiro, and Wasabi and Tadashi. It’s the least adventurous ride, scooting along the track and treating them to a variety of scenes animatronic and holographic that Skye loudly declares “spoopy” and “creppy” so often that Jemma’s practically doubled over giggling (and Jiaying whispers to Honey, “Am I missing an important joke?”) and Fred seems to be carrying on an exuberant conversation with...no one in particular.

When they pass by some angel statues, Fitz stiffens and whispers, “Don’t blink, don’t even blink, blink and you’re dead!” Trip chuckles and squeezes his hand.

Skye tries to tug Jemma towards the gift shops near the exit when they leave, but Jemma sighs exasperatedly. “Let’s get moving toward Fantasyland, there are shops there,” she says. “There are shops everywhere, it’ll be all right.”

Sure enough, the first thing they see is the Mad Hatter shop. “C’mon!” says Skye eagerly. “Jemma, you have to buy a hat!”

“I don’t need a hat,” Jemma replies, turning to beg the others to back her up.

“But then we could match,” says Skye, with the saddest puppy expression possible.

“You wouldn’t, really,” Fitz points out, “because they don’t sell fedoras here, and also…”

“C’mon, let’s pick out mouse ears,” interrupts Trip. Fitz sighs and follows him.

Wasabi shrugs. “Okay, I guess we’re all getting hats now.” He wanders over to the character section, with Fred at his heels.

“Look, Stitch is eating my head!” Fred plops one of the alien hats on his head.

Tadashi chuckles. “Suits you.”

After a long moment of deliberation, Wasabi picks out a Goofy hat. Then he turns to Tadashi. “What are you getting?”

“Oh, I’ll pass-”

“These!” Hiro runs over holding a pair of R2D2 mouse ears. “C’mon, Tadashi, they’re great!”

“Or I guess those.”

Honey shoos the boys over to the checkout line, snapping pictures as soon as they’re rung up; Gogo leans against the entrance to the shop, feigning nonchalance while she plays with her phone, but she’s smirking.

“You should get a tiara!” Skye’s saying to Jemma. “So you can be a princess.”

Jemma wrinkles her nose, but then she spots a silver tiara adorned with a picture of, inexplicably, Ariel and Cinderella inside a heart. “Oh my god,” she exclaims, waving Skye over.

“Holy shit, Cindy is literally making bedroom eyes,” Skye says.

“I’ll get this one,” Jemma decides, skipping over to the register.

Meanwhile, Skye wanders over to where Jiaying’s been watching with amusement and says, “You should get one too! Um, I mean, if you want.”

“A princess tiara?” Jiaying clarifies.

“A queen tiara!” corrects Skye. “Or something else, I dunno.”

“Tiaras are slightly better than…” She sighs and nods at Fred’s new alien-eating-his-head hat. “Help me find one?”

“Okay!” Skye practically skips over to the tiara section. “So there’s the ones that are fucking covered in diamonds, like Jemma bought, or there are some that are slightly less ridiculous and are just beads.”

Jiaying chuckles. “Less ridiculous might be appropriate.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Skye looks over them for a while and finally grabs one that’s Tiana-themed, with pearl and gold beads making the points of the crown and other pearls and three big green jewels in the middle of them. “How about this one?”

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Jiaying says. “I enjoyed that movie.”

“Cool! I’ll pay,” says Skye. “Since, y’know, I owe you like twenty years’ worth of Mother’s Day presents.”

“Thank you,” Jiaying says. “I’m going to find some present for you, too, but not here. You’ve already met your silly hat quota.”

Once they’re done paying and everyone has their hats on and has regrouped, Skye says, “See, Jemma, Jiaying’s got a queen tiara.”

Jemma tilts her head. “Your story has holes in it,” she replies.

“Oh, c’mon,” sighs Skye playfully. “She’s the queen of a different place and you’re still a princess, okay?”

“Work harder,” Jemma declares, though it’s clearly a joke.

“She’s the queen, I’m the princess but I hate wearing tiaras, and you’re a visiting political ally?”

“Better,” Jemma says. To the others she chirps, “Where to next?”

“Teacups?” asks Gogo. “They spin, apparently.”

Skye grins. “Spinning contest?”

“You’re on.”

Jemma and Honey exchange worried looks.

“And I’ll be in another teacup enjoying the day, thank you very much,” announces Wasabi.

“I’ll join you,” says Fitz immediately.

They have a short wait in line to sort out the seating arrangements, which is to say sort out that the boys will be taking nice calm teacup rides while Skye and Gogo drag the other girls along for maniac spins. Honey insists on the teacup adorned with pink and gold hearts, while Skye picks one with flowers on it and grins at Jiaying, raising both eyebrows.

When the ride starts, Gogo immediately begins trying to spin hers. Which it does...very slowly. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters.

Skye, over in her floral cup, is spinning merrily and sticking her tongue out at Gogo. Meanwhile, Wasabi, Trip, and Fitz are contentedly not spinning in their plain purple cup.

At the end of the ride, Skye smirks. “You tried?”

“Shut up,” says Gogo.

Jiaying frowns at their surroundings once they’ve stopped to regroup. “I see dozens of girls dressed as princesses, but no rides attributed to them,” she says.

“Cinderella had a carousel,” Gogo says, rolling her eyes, “but apparently it was scaring off boys or some bullshit, so they turned it into the prince’s carousel.”

“Good grief,” Jiaying sighs.

“But there is a Snow White ride!” Wasabi adds. “We should go!”

“That’s either going to be wonderful or horrifying,” Jemma says.

 

* * *

 

“Well, that was uncomfortable,” Gogo says as they walk out of It’s a Small World.

“I was trying to count the dolls so I wouldn’t think about how horrible it was,” Jemma says with a frown. “I think I lost it somewhere around two thousand.”

Hiro groans. “ _And_ the song is stuck in my head now!”

Skye has a wicked grin on her face. “Is it never gonna give you up?”

In unison, Hiro and Wasabi screech, “NO!”

“Are we all done with Fantasyland for now?” Honey asks loudly, hoping to change the subject.

“Probably,” says Tadashi, rolling his eyes at his brother’s hysterics.

They wander out of Fantasyland, past the Matterhorn, which is closed today, when Gogo stops in her tracks and says, “Racing cars!” with more enthusiasm than she’s had for anything all day.

“Oh!” Honey exclaims. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” Gogo walks purposefully towards it.

“I’m gonna go on the submarine,” says Wasabi. “See you guys later?”

“Ooh, I love fish! I’ll come too!” Fred joins him, and to Wasabi’s credit he only makes a slightly dismayed face for a second.

“My phone!” Jiaying suddenly exclaims. “I’ll be…” She waves toward a nearby cluster of tables, smiling apologetically, and she may or may not be making up a reason to avoid either activity.

The remainder of the group heads toward the line for Autopia, but upon seeing the 60 minute wait time, Jemma winces. “Will you be horribly upset if I wanted to go to Innoventions instead?” she asks Skye. “I just… don’t know if it would be worth it for me to wait so long to drive a tiny car horribly, is all.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” Skye kisses her cheek. “Go on, go play. That’s your thing, you should go enjoy the science stuff.”

Jemma sighs with relief. “Anyone joining me?”

“Yes, please,” Honey says immediately.

“And me,” adds Fitz.

“Guess I’ll come too,” says Trip with a grin.

“Wonderful!” Jemma exclaims. “We’ll be… in there. I have my phone, darling.” With that, she leads the others into the tall Innoventions building, not bothering to hide her glee.

The line for Autopia really doesn’t take _that_ long, maybe forty-five minutes, and Gogo, Hiro, and Skye spend most of it talking about _Star Wars_ and how bad the latest _Transformers_ movie was. Tadashi rolls his eyes affectionately and considers how much of his life he spends acting as a babysitter.

When Gogo gets in the car, she’s annoyed to find out it’s on a pre-existing track, with no way of getting off (you can bump the rail a little, and she does). The cars don’t even go fast enough to hit the one in front of her, which really fucks up her plan of running into Hiro and Skye’s cars as many times as possible. She settles for muttering curses under her breath and flooring the sad gas pedal.

When Hiro speeds by with a wave, she flips him off.

Skye calls, “Having trouble there, slowpoke?”

“You won’t be when I run your ass over!” Gogo yells, and a child in the car a few feet behind her starts crying. Oops.

When they get off the ride, Tadashi sighs. “Did you have to trash talk during it? That poor kid was pretty startled.”

Gogo shrugs. “They started it.”

They beat a quick exit towards where Jiaying’s just wrapping up her conversation (it doesn’t exactly sound like work, but considering how disappointing that ride turned out to be, Skye can’t really blame her), and Skye says, “Okay, let’s go see how the others are doing and then I wanna go to Star Tours!”

“Yeah!” says Hiro, and Gogo looks interested.

“How was your car ride?” Jiaying asks, attempting to look interested.

“Kind of lame, honestly,” says Skye. “We couldn’t get off the track. Also, Gogo made a kid cry.”

“Accidentally.”

Jiaying frowns like she has three different responses to that, but what she says instead is, “Where are the others?”

“The submarine ride and Innoventions,” replies Hiro. “I’m kinda wishing I’d gone to Innoventions, honestly.”

“Well, we’re going now, we gotta go get them,” says Skye. “I’ll text Jemma and we’ll go get Fred and Wasabi first.”

When they meet them outside the submarine ride, Wasabi’s looking pleased, and Fred seems very serene. “Where to next?” asks Wasabi.

“Star Tours! After we go get the others from Innoventions.”

When they catch up with Jemma, Fitz, Trip, and Honey, they’re almost done watching a presentation about ASIMO, a robot. “Of course,” says Skye fondly.

Jemma turns around and waves at them, and as the applause sounds she and the others hurry over. “I wish you’d have got here in time to see all of it, that was fascinating!” she exclaims.

“It seems cool,” agrees Tadashi. “Ours was...less that.”

“But now Star Tours!” says Hiro.

Skye and Hiro are more into it than anyone else, though Jemma is trying her very best. “The graphics are impressive,” she says gamely as they’re exiting.

“Yeah! I wish Bobbi were here,” says Skye, almost wistful, “she’d love it.”

Jemma makes a face.

“Who’s Bobbi?” Jiaying asks, interested.

“Bobbi Morse is flawless,” Skye replies, without missing a beat. “Her favorite movie is _Varsity Blues._ One time, she met John Stamos on a plane and he told her she was pretty.”

“Bobbi is someone else who works at the mall with us,” Jemma supplies, trying to play cool. “She’s sort of taken us. Under her wing. You know.”

“I see,” Jiaying says. It’s clear she’s trying not to laugh.

Their next stop is Space Mountain, where they spend the entire duration of the wait listening to Fitz rant about the illogically designed model spaceship. “You know, I understand why for the purposes of the ride that they’ve designed the queue to wrap around the edges of what seems to be the cargo bay, because it’s easier to get on, but it’s on a raised platform and that seems very impractical to me. Shouldn’t that space be used for actual cargo or some such? Although, that begs the question, is it a cargo bay at all, because clearly there are shuttles launching out of it. Poorly designed shuttles too, because they don’t have roofs, and if you tried to fly one of those into space blood would come out all your orifices immediately, if you didn’t freeze first. And another thing, why is there an engine suspended from the ceiling? That’s the most impractical place to keep a spare that I can think of…”

“Dude, breathe,” says Fred. “Relax. Look at all the pretty stars!”

“I’m perfectly capable of breathing while talking fast, thanks very much,” retorts Fitz.

Trip squeezes his hand. “I think he means maybe it’s not worth getting worked up about.”

“But it’s _impractical!”_

Despite that, they all have a good time, filing into the seats two by two (the couples, Honey and Gogo, Fred and Tadashi, Hiro and Wasabi, and Jiaying by herself, by her request), and Fred spends most of the ride cheerfully shouting things about space and colors.

Skye spends far too long looking wistfully at the lightsabers in the gift shop. “No, Skye, if you’re going to invest in a lightsaber don’t you want it to be a quality one?” Jemma asks, regretting it the moment she’s said it.

“Good point!” Skye says. “Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it,” Jemma says through her very best attempt at a smile. “Let’s hurry over to Buzz Lightyear, yes?”

 

* * *

 

Skye whoops as she shakes herself like a dog. “That was awesome!”

“‘I’m glad we saved that till the end of the day,” Jemma smirks. “We can just go back to the room when we’re all done.”

“Oh, but Winnie the Pooh first!” Honey exclaims. “I promised my cousins I’d go and tell them everything about it.”

“I could go for a snooze right now, actually,” says Fred.

“It’ll be quick!” Honey promises. “See, it’s just a five minute line, we’ll be in and out in no time.”

It’s a pretty standard ride, with cheesy moving displays of Pooh and his friends, up until they hit the Heffalumps and Woozles section. “This is _amazing_ ,” gasps Fred in awe, staring at all the bright colors and moving lights.

“This is certainly something,” Jiaying murmurs, sounding much more distressed.

“We’ve found Fred’s favorite ride,” snarks Gogo.

Skye’s giggling hysterically. “This would probably be less funny if I were totally sober, but it’s hilarious!”

“It’s a very good post-drinking ride,” Jemma agrees.

When the ride comes to an end a few minutes later (having passed through much more normal areas), Hiro comments, “That was pretty wild.”

“I feel like I never have to take drugs,” says Trip.

“I think that was a very nice end to the day!” Honey declares, contentedly wrapping an arm around Gogo’s shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been based off of one of the authors' personal experiences at Disneyland. Some of the merch described may or may not be currently available at the park, but this is [Jemma's tiara](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a2/a9/04/a2a90462d2a778077decffc665c0be7d.jpg).


	45. come take my hand, see that no border, no boundary can hold you in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen takes her boys suit shopping and Akela is helpful.

“Girls, it’s the end of the day. Please go home. You’re not the poor bastards who have the after-hours shift,” says Irani with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

“I’m on my way out,” Karen says, raising her hands defensively. “I’m not goin’ home yet though, the boys promised me they’d let me take them suit shopping.”

Irani presses her lips together. “Well. Good luck to you,” she says, sounding vaguely disapproving.

“You just headed home, Kara?” Karen asks the other woman, busy rummaging in her purse.

“No,” Kara says, and she shakes her head after a moment, realizing it sounded terse. “I, uh, I actually have a date with this guy?”

“Oh!” Karen exclaims, grinning. She knows it’s been hard for Kara to meet people, so she’s more excited than is possibly polite. “That’s cool!”

“Yeah,” Kara murmurs. “I… wish me luck?”

“Of course!” Karen realizes how stupidly happy she sounds right now, but - well, it could be a really good thing. “Good luck!” She’s about to say more when her phone buzzes, and after picking it up she apologizes, “Sorry, I’d definitely stay and chat more but Foggy and Matt are waiting for me in the food court.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara shrugs. “You already had plans, you should go. Have a nice night, Karen.”

“You too,” Karen chirps. “See you tomorrow, see you Irani, see you poor bastards!” That last is called in the vague direction of the back offices before she lets herself out and heads to meet the boys, unable to stop smiling.

“You’re chipper,” says Foggy with a grin.

“Oh, Kara’s got a date,” Karen says like this is an explanation.

Matt furrows his brow. “Who’s Kara?”

“She works with me,” Karen says, sounding vaguely exasperated because, well. “I’ve mentioned her before! Nice girl, been through a rough time?”

“Oh yeah!” Foggy nods. “Well, I hope she has fun. You ready?”

“Sure thing! You guys ready to look amazing?”

Matt shrugs. “I guess. You’d know better than me what looks good.”

Karen rolls her eyes playfully. “There are a lot of things I know better than you, this just happens to be one of the practical ones.” She waves them in the direction of Men’s Wearhouse.

Foggy snorts. “Please, Matt, like you don’t dress like a male model anyway.”

“Do I? I really wouldn’t know,” teases Matt.

“You’re pretty snappy,” Karen giggles.

“Well, thanks,” says Matt, offering his arm for her to take.

It’s so dapper and just so perfectly Matt that it adds to Karen’s good mood to link up with him like they’re about to go down the Yellow Brick Road, and in that spirit, she offers her other arm to Foggy, grinning. “Let’s go,” she says.

“To the Wearhouse!” says Foggy cheerfully as they head in the direction of the store.

When they enter the store, Akela comes up to greet them. “Hello,” she says. “Are you Karen?”

“Sure am!” Karen declares. “On my right is Matt and on my left is Foggy, and they need some suits that really scream ‘take me seriously!’”

“All right,” says Akela, “what are you gentlemen looking for in a suit?”

“They’re studying to be lawyers,” Karen declares, beaming proudly. “So… something professional. Something that’s appropriate for them.”

Akela nods. “Have either of you purchased a suit before?”

Foggy grins sheepishly, shaking his head. “Not me.” He glances over at Matt. “You haven’t, right?”

“No,” says Matt with a chuckle. “This is all pretty new to me.”

“Before we get started, are there any details I should know that will be unacceptable to you? Fabric, color, and so forth?”

“Soft fabrics only for me, please,” Matt replies. “No cotton. Silk, if you have it?”

Akela nods, pulling out a tape measure. “Let me get your measurements, please,” she says, stepping forward to do Foggy first. “You two can sit over there,” she adds to Matt and Karen, gesturing to some benches a few yards away.

Karen nods, gently steering Matt in the right direction before making herself comfortable. “I’m kinda excited, which I’m just now realizing is silly,” she says.

“What for?” asks Matt, smiling but not like he’s making fun of her. He finds her enthusiasm endearing.

“I dunno, you guys are getting all… done up,” she mumbles, tucking hair behind her ear in the most sheepish way. “It’s exciting. You’re getting ready to go out in the world and do something.”

“Hopefully,” he says. “It’ll be nice to be done with school and actually helping people.”

“I understand,” she replies. “I mean, not… exactly. What you guys are gonna do is nothing like what I do. Or what I wanna. I don’t know. It’s a good impulse, though.”

He smiles and says, “Well, probably a nicer impulse than cagefighting, anyway.”

“I’d be a terrible cagefighter,” Karen jokingly agrees.

“Good. Don’t do it. Terrible habit,” jokes Matt.

Foggy comes over. “You’re up, slugger.”

Matt stands, leaning on his cane, and gestures to the bench. “All yours.”

“What a gentleman,” jokes Foggy, settling in next to Karen.

Matt walks over to where Akela is waiting, stopping just in front of her. “You’ll have to give me instructions,” he says with a smile, “I’ve never been measured before.”

“No need to worry, sir, it’s a very simple process,” says Akela. “First I’ll need you to raise your arms slightly so I can measure your chest.”

Matt does, staying still as she measures under his arms and over his shoulders. Then she leans forward to measure his neck; conveniently, she’s only a few inches shorter than him. She works almost silently, with an air of professionalism that seems above this mall chain.

“So,” Matt says after a few minutes of silence, “How long have you worked here?”

“Seven months,” she says nonchalantly.

“Do you like it?”

She snorts. “It pays the bills. I like music.”

“Oh, music’s nice. What do you listen to?”

“I doubt you’ve heard of some of my favorites, which doesn’t mean that I’m a hipster,” she replies. “I like a little of everything. The last concert I went to was Janelle Monae, she’s one of the more mainstream ones.”

“I imagine concerts must be more fun if you can see them,” jokes Matt. “But they’re a little chaotic for me, personally.” He gestures to his glasses.

Akela makes a _hm_ noise. “Well, I can see half of them, anyhow. I make do with my good eye.”

“Oh. You’ll forgive me for not noticing before, I hope?”

“Of course,” she says with a small chuckle. “Most people don’t if they’re not looking closely. You have more of an excuse than most. Please lift your arms again so I can measure your waist.”

He does, and she falls silent for a few moments before asking, “And you? She said you were in law school, what else do you do?”

He huffs a laugh. “Not much. Law school kind of kills your social life.”

“You must have _one_ hobby.”

“You really don’t want to know, I promise you,” he replies. “It’s not...exactly illegal but the police aren’t celebrating it, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah. You look very clean-cut for a delinquent,” she says, sounding almost cheerful.

“I get that a lot.”

Once she’s done with the measurements, Akela beckons Karen over. “Would you come help me select some suits for your friends? Unless you gentlemen would prefer to join us?”

“Ah, no, that’s okay,” says Foggy immediately, who looks as if he’d rather eat rusty nails than have to pick out a suit for himself.

Karen rolls her eyes affectionately. “See why I had to make this appointment?” she asks Akela.

“Yes,” says Akela, smiling.

“Thanks for agreeing to it,” Karen murmurs, going to frown over a rack of pinstripe suits. “It’s kind of a weird time of day to do this, but the boys had class and I don’t get off till six.”

Akela shrugs. “You’re a mall employee. I see no problem with doing you a favor.”

“Still,” Karen says. “I’m sure you wouldn’t work evenings if you had a choice. That’s one of the nicest things about admin, honestly.”

“I can imagine,” says Akela. “But this is not so bad. Your friends are quite charming.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Karen teases. “They’re sweethearts, but egos are not something they lack.”

Akela laughs. “As with most men.”

“Don’t I know it,” Karen replies rhetorically. “You think black, gray, brown, or blue would work for them better?”

Akela turns to study the two men, who appear to be engaged in a very serious discussion about what to name their firm (Foggy seems to be insisting that Murdock should come first, while Matt disagrees), and finally says, “Blue, I think.”

“Blue!” Karen repeats. “Stripes?”

“No, plain would be better for this.”

Karen nods and picks out a couple different styles of jacket in the boys’ sizes before asking Akela, “So, you wanna grab lunch with us this weekend, maybe? We’re going to the farmer’s market with Matt’s not-a-girlfriend.”

“Oh!” Akela seems surprised. “I...yes, I think I’d like that. Thank you.”

“‘Course!” Karen grins. “It’s always fun doin’ stuff with new people! And I’m gonna try to get to know more other mall people. I feel kinda silly not knowing anyone but Irani and Kara and the guys, really.”

“I don’t have many friends either,” replies Akela. “You shouldn’t let it bother you too much.”

Karen smiles sheepishly. “I don’t, I mean I’m not really worried about it, but I guess I like feeling connected to a place,” she explains.

“Understandable,” nods Akela. “How about these?” She gestures to a rack of suits that match the criteria she’s been given.

“I like!” Karen exclaims. “Guys, what do you think for starters?”

Foggy glances over. “Okay!” He shrugs and grins. “What do you think, Matt?”

“I think she’ll have to bring it over here before I can say,” replies Matt with a chuckle.

Akela brings over the suits, and she and Karen help them as needed. She guides them over to a set of mirrors and asks, “What do you think?”

“Ooh, fancy,” says Foggy, blatantly turning around to check out his own ass.

“Well, I can’t speak to how it looks, but it feels great,” adds Matt. “This’ll work well.”

“I think you’ll wow them for sure,” Karen declares.

“Excellent.” Akela smiles.

“Thank you,” says Matt, “you’ve been very helpful.”

“Yes, thanks!” Foggy chimes in.

“Glad to be of service.” 


	46. I am aiming to be somebody this somebody trusts with her delicate soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this round of trivia, Peggy Carter and her friends come to help the other teams take down Hydra. Also, there is reason to be concerned about a developing relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for discussion of an abusive relationship, particularly sexually abusive. Also for onscreen depiction of a relationship that is heading towards abusive and is pretty skeevy either way.

“Do you think we could acquire that team?” Anne asks Bobbi quietly, eying the Jupiter Phoenix team at their usual table.

“Who?” Hank follows her gaze. “The youngsters?”

Anne tries not to roll her eyes. “Them,” she agrees. “FitzSimmons and their friends. I’m afraid if we don’t, our competitors might.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Maya offers.

“I highly doubt they’re going to join up with asshole,” Bobbi declares. “I think they’re mostly just here for the fuck of it, which means that they’re not going to get involved in _this_.” The rivalry between the two teams, she means.

Maria shrugs. “I think at this point we’re all basically just here to keep the Nazis from walking off with the win.”

“Yeah, it was a rough couple of weeks when you guys couldn’t make it,” says Mack. “Bobbi and I held down the fort with whoever happened to be here, but _those_ assholes still placed.”

“This is the only context in which a person should rightfully say thank goodness for Bludgeon of Broken Families and Control Microwaves,” Bobbi sighs.

Over at the table where Trivia Corps usually sits, Sif and Melinda are awkwardly waiting. “Where’s Coulson?” asks Sif, raising an eyebrow.

Melinda shrugs. “He didn’t say he wasn’t coming.” He hadn’t said he _was_ , either.

Sif takes the opportunity to hope that maybe Coulson’s given up entirely and won’t come.

The door swings open and in walks not Coulson but Peggy Carter, one hand loosely holding Angie’s and the other waving for the group behind her to follow. That group is rather large and also comprised entirely of proper adults, most of whom look out of place in Applebee’s.

“What the hell is this?” asks Fitz, cocking his head.

“Oh, that’s my uncle and his friends,” replies Trip, very nonchalant. “Uncle Gabe’s a teacher at Andrew Jackson, and I guess he hangs out with the other teachers a lot. That’s Peggy, Angie, Jarvis, Dum Dum, Jim, Dottie, Daniel, and Howard.”

“Howard… Stark?” Jemma asks faintly.

“Well, he’s not a teacher. I guess he’s on the school board or something, I dunno. Uncle Gabe says he hangs around with them a lot.”

“You think he’d take a selfie with me?” asks Skye.

“You’re a reasonably attractive girl, so yeah,” says Trip with a roll of his eyes.

Jemma is about to say something dismissive when her phone goes off, and after she reads it, she nudges Skye impatiently. “I need to get past, Bobbi wants to meet in the ladies’,” she says.

“Uh,” says Skye, taken aback. “Most people are a little less obvious when they’re sneaking off to cheat.” She quickly grins, but she is confused.

Jemma thwacks Skye in the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says. “It’s strategy for tonight, or something. I’m supposed to bring someone from Darcy’s team, too, except Darcy’s not here yet, so…” She shrugs, then crosses to the table and taps Carina on the shoulder, showing her the text message as an explanation before they head for the ladies’ room.

Skye shrugs, trying for nonchalance, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t watching Bobbi as she heads for the ladies’. Trip nudges her and says playfully, “Jealous?”

“Psh, no,” she scoffs. “Why would I be jealous of the...enormous smoking hot Amazon woman? Who knows way too much about _Star Wars_?”

“That was the least convincing lie I’ve ever seen and I’ve known Jemma since we were tiny,” says Fitz.

 

* * *

 

“Is everything all right?” Carina asks, leaning tentatively against the bathroom counter.

“Yeah,” Bobbi says. “My team has been talking, though, and we all agree that we can’t stand to see those Nazi dickbags place for another week. It’s nobody’s fault that attendance has been spotty, I know sometimes we get weird shifts and I know you guys were in California -”

“Yes,” Jemma squeaks, eyes wide, because she honestly didn’t expect Bobbi to remember that (even if the pictures were all over Facebook and Instagram).

“And whatever, life happens, it’s not a big deal, but since we’re all here…”

“Since we’re all here, what?” comes a new voice, belonging to Peggy. “If I’m interrupting some secret conversation, I’ll duck out without a worry.”

“It’s not a secret!” Carina exclaims nervously, blushing. “We’re just talking about -”

“Beating the Hydra assholes,” Bobbi finishes. She tilts her head at Peggy, appraising. “You’re Sharon’s aunt, right? I admit I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Sharon’s been keeping me updated about the mayhem that goes on here,” Peggy says with a shrug. “It took longer than I would have liked to find a night we were all able to come, but when a racist gang thinks they can get away with making a positive showing at any event, it’s hard to sit idly by.”

“Exactly what I was saying,” Bobbi grins. “So we’ve got representatives here from four different teams, and only the top three get noted. I brought you two -” With a smile at Carina and Jemma. “And I apparently got lucky enough to stumble onto you -” With a respectful nod to Peggy. “So we can agree to do our very best tonight to keep that top three fuckwad-free. Does that sound like a plan?”

“A brilliant one,” Jemma says admiringly.

“Perfect,” Bobbi says. “Now, we should get back out there before your girlfriend starts freaking out about why didn’t she get invited too.” Said to Jemma, but Carina and Peggy both smirk too. Peggy gives a playful salute to the younger women before they all exit and return to their tables.

When Jemma gets back, her group seems to be in the middle of a discussion about robots, which is to say Tadashi’s robot. “...and he can do a bunch of sick karate moves!” Skye’s saying to Peter and Gwen, who look riveted.

“As well as scan any person for a complete medical examination overview,” adds Fitz.

“Oh my god,” Gwen squeaks, “that is so cool!”

“And incredibly useful,” Jemma agrees. She nudges Skye, raising an eyebrow. “We should give everyone their souvenirs before the round starts, no?”

Skye nods. “Okay!” She grabs the basket of figures - of course it’s an actual basket, of course Jemma had one of those lying around - and passes it to Gwen, who’s sitting next to her. “Here, pick one!”

“Ooh.” Gwen rifles through the basket. “Cool.”

There’s a mix of Princess, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, _Toy Story_ , and _Nightmare Before Christmas_ in there, and Gwen debates for a while before pulling out Daisy Duck. “You should take Donald,” she says to Peter. “Since we never wear pants in the apartment, and all.”

Peter laughs. “Perfect!” He pulls out Donald and puts him next to Daisy on the table.

“That’s charming and I’m also not sure I wanted to know that,” Jemma says.

Gwen snickers as Peter passes the basket to Akela. “I haven’t seen most of these movies,” admits Akela, cautiously pawing through the figures.

“I’m sorry,” says Trip, not sounding sarcastic at all.

Akela shrugs. “I survived.” She finally pulls out the Zero figure, perched atop a trio of pumpkins. “This ghost dog is amusing.”

“Zero!” says Skye with a grin.

Jemma beams too, sliding back out of the booth and picking the basket up before motioning for Skye to follow. “We’ll report back,” she says to the others. The closest table to theirs is the Lucky Bombshell table, which by now is populated by everyone who’s ever been on the team. “Good thing we got so many extras,” she whispers to Skye.

“Hey,” says Skye when they come up to the table. “So, we got a bunch of figures from Disneyland, and there’s enough for everybody to take one, if you want.”

“You guys are awesome,” Darcy declares, reaching for the basket and beginning to search before pulling out the lesser-known Clarabelle Cow. “This is so weird, I love it.”

Rogue’s a little shyer looking through it, finally grabbing Cinderella in her blue dress. “I always liked this movie, dunno why,” she says with a shrug.

Carina rifles through looking almost purposeful, and it only takes her a moment to find Rapunzel and explain softly, “I know why I like this movie.”

Nebula, by contrast, glares as she pulls the basket over to her. There’s a very long process of her pulling out every single princess figure, scoffing at it, then tossing it back in, before she finally pulls out the _Nightmare Before Christmas_ child with the skeleton outfit. “Ooh. That’s more like it.”

“You would,” Raina says fondly, casually looking through the basket until she finds a figurine of Tiana in her green princess gown and smiles. Skye can’t help it; she yelps “You gotta be shitting me!”

Lorelei just looks amused at both Skye’s outburst and Raina’s choice, though only the latter is commented on, a honeyed, “Of course you find the princess with a flower on her dress.” Her own choice is, unsurprisingly, mermaid Ariel, and she smirks like she’s daring anyone to point out why.

When the basket gets to MJ, she’s more nonchalant than Rogue as she takes the other Cinderella. “I like it too,” she says, with a smile.

Laura blinks in confusion. “I don’t understand. These are from...movies?”

“Yes,” Jemma says helpfully. “A whole bunch of them, some of them older than others.”

“I didn’t see many of them,” says Laura, seeming at a loss. “My mother preferred to read to me, and Logan...he doesn’t see many movies.” She stares at the basket for a moment before asking, “Why are some of the animals wearing clothes?”

“Because cartoons,” Darcy says.

“I’m starting to see why my mother didn’t want me to watch cartoons,” says Laura. “This dog isn’t wearing clothes.” She picks up Pluto.

“That’s Pluto,” Cessily says, “he’s Mickey’s dog. It’s kind of weird, I guess, Mickey being a talking mouse...that has a dog...you don’t think about it when you’re a kid.”

“I would have,” Laura says. “I like this dog. He is not confusing.”

Cessily makes a sympathetic noise in her throat as she looks through the figures. “I’ll take this dog,” she says, pulling out a tiny brown dog with a bow on its head. “They can be dog friends!”

Skye glances uneasily at Raina one more time and then says, “Cool, everybody enjoy your toys. We gotta go play Santa some more.”

Raina notices that look - although she doesn’t know why it’s being given, it’s one she’s used to - and waves cheerily as Skye and Jemma move along.

When the Rebel Alliance looks up at them expectantly, Skye says, “We brought you guys Disney figures! Pick one,” because she can’t be bothered to use more words.

Victoria raises an eyebrow. “Toys,” she says dryly.

Isabelle’s already grabbing the basket. “Oh good!” she says, taking the Belle figure and giving Victoria the kind of smirk that makes everyone feel like they’re intruding on something private just by seeing it. Victoria’s eyes go wide, and she very quickly grabs Snow White in an action that seems almost defensive. Her expression is certainly a dare to say anything more.

“Is it cool enough to have Merida?” Bobbi asks, rummaging around until she finds the princess she’s looking for. “Excellent. Even with her bow and arrow.”

Melinda comes over with Sif at her heels. “Hi,” she says to Bobbi. “Mind if we join you? Phil’s a no-show.”

“Are those for us?” asks Sif, looking at the basket with a grin.

“Take a seat,” Bobbi says, just as Jemma is stammering out, “Please, ah, please pick one, yes!”

Sif grabs Bullseye from _Toy Story_. “I only saw the first one, but it’s a horse,” she explains.

“Is Mulan there?” asks Melinda. Sif sorts through until she finds her and hands her to Melinda almost shyly. “Thank you.” Melinda sits down with a satisfied smile.

“Welcome to the team,” Anne says wryly, not even caring that her smugness shows, before reaching for the basket and pulling out Jack Skellington.

Hank looks through them before taking Oogie Boogie. “Always thought this fellow was rather interesting.”

“Sweet,” Maya declares as she pulls Rex off the top of the pile. “Everything is better when you’ve got toy dinosaurs, I think.”

Maria chuckles as she rifles through them, finally selecting Jessie the cowgirl. “I think Aly will be happy to get this.”

“Aly?” Jemma asks before she can stop herself.

“My niece. She’s six and she wants to be a princess-superhero-policewoman-ballerina,” says Maria, smirking.

When Mack gets the basket, he says in disappointment, “I was kinda hoping there’d be a Gadget figure,” before taking the Chip and Dale.

Finally, Heimdall pulls out Buzz Lightyear and smiles. “I always liked him.”

While the others have been making their choices, Victoria and Isabelle have been playing with their princesses, uncharacteristically whimsically; Jemma sees this and nudges Skye, grinning.

“Awww,” says Skye before she can help herself. “Can I take a picture? I feel like Twitter would appreciate this.”

Victoria startles, realizing she’s being addressed, but it’s not like she can exactly deny what she’s been doing. “Fine, but for the love of god don’t tag us,” she drawls.

“Aw, I would never!” Skye replies playfully, snapping a picture of the figures standing close together. “I just think subversion is funny.”

“It would be better if they ditched their princes and ran off together,” replies Isabelle with a laugh.

Once they’ve stepped away from the Rebel Alliance, Skye glances around the restaurant before looking at the table full of newcomers. “Trip said that was his uncle and friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Jemma agrees. “We spoke with Peggy in the ladies’ room, she seemed wonderful.”

“Okay! We’ve got plenty, let’s go make friends.” Skye grabs Jemma’s arm and tugs her in their direction.

“Hello there,” Peggy croons upon seeing the girls arrive. “I hadn’t realized you were one of Trip’s friends.”

“He’s dating my flatmate,” Jemma says quickly. “And they’re very lovely together, and he’s very lovely, and we’ve got these toys we bought at Disneyland and we were wondering if you all wanted to take one? In the spirit of…” She trails off, wrinkling her nose, as she’s not really sure what it’s in the spirit of but babbled that out before she could think the better of it.

Angie grins. “Sure! Thanks for thinking of us…?” She pauses, frowning like she’s not sure how to end her sentence.

“Jemma,” says Jemma. “And this is Skye.”

“Hi!” Angie waves. “I’m Angie, that’s Peggy, and this group of hooligans are our friends.”

“Speak for yourself, Ms. Martinelli,” says an elegant-looking man with a British accent and a vaguely affronted expression.

“Angie,” says Angie with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, lemme take a look.” She rummages through the basket for a little while before pulling out Mickey Mouse. “Classic,” she explains with a grin.

“You’ve just made my decision for me, too,” Peggy declares, finding Minnie to match and bumping Angie’s shoulder.

“I’m going to be sick,” the other woman at the table, a blonde, announces cheerfully.

“What _ever_ , Dot,” replies Angie. “Here.” She passes the basket.

Dottie looks through it, making a face at most of the remaining princesses, before pulling out a little girl figure with a pink dress and a horrifying grinning skull-face. “Perfect!”

“Well, that figures,” snarks Howard, taking his sweet time before deciding on Pocahontas. “Legs,” he explains. Peggy scowls in response.

Next, the basket gets passed to a currently-smirking brown-haired man, who reaches for the villainous fuzzy pink bear from _Toy Story 3_ and holds him up, motioning to the cane he’s holding and then to a human-sized one beside his own chair. “Same,” he says to Howard.

The largest of the group laughs uproariously, his mustache wiggling slightly. “Well done, Sousa,” he says. He selects Pete, saying with a shrug, “I can relate.”

Trip’s uncle looks over his choices before taking Woody. “I’ve shown you all the pictures of Trip dressed as Woody when he was seven, yeah? Cutest damn thing.”

“I’m sure!” Jemma exclaims, nudging Skye.

“Sounds adorable,” says Skye, mostly managing not to sound sarcastic.

The Japanese member of the group shrugs and takes Jasmine. “Thank you,” he says with a smile. “I’ll put her in my studio.”

“You’re up, fancy,” says Angie, offering Jarvis the basket.

Jarvis rolls his eyes and takes it, seeming at a loss for what else to do. “This fellow seems amusing,” he says, taking Goofy.

“Awesome,” says Skye once everyone seems settled with their choices. “Uh, have fun, nice meeting you, and uh...good luck!” She quickly bolts before it can get awkward.

“Oh, we should give one to Lance,” Jemma says, though she seems ambivalent about doing. “It wouldn’t be right to leave him out.” That’s said intentionally in the earshot of the Hydra table, which _is_ being left out and very pointedly so.

Skye snorts. “Yeah, okay.” She grabs Aurora in the pink dress and strides over to where Lance is making a drink behind the bar. “Hey,” she calls, “we brought you something from Disneyland. Merry happy or whatever.”

Turning to glance at her, Lance gives her an incredulous look, which doesn’t let up once he sees what she’s holding. “Uh...thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Jemma giggles, stepping up to join. She notices a woman a few feet away from them who looks familiar, though she can’t place her name, and turns to Skye as if to ask, _shall we?_

Skye nods and steps forward. “Hey, uh, I feel like I’ve seen you around somewhere, do you work at the mall?”

‘Yes,” the woman replies, looking startled. “In admin. And you’re…?”

“Ice cream,” Jemma says. “I mean, I work at the ice cream shop. I’m not literally ice cream.”

Skye giggles and adds, “I’m at the Apple Store. Unfortunately. Skye, and this is Jemma. And your name…”

“Kara.” But it’s not the woman speaking, it’s Ward. He’s slipped up while they were talking and put his arm around Kara, letting his hand rest on her waist in a way that would be totally normal from anyone else (but considering what she knows about Ward, it’s giving Skye the creeps). “How’s my drink coming, baby?” he asks. Skye wants to throw up.

Kara bites her lip, gaze tracking to Lance at the bar, who for his part slides the drink over with a disgusted expression. “All ready,” she says softly.

“Attagirl,” says Ward. “Now c’mon, let’s go sit down. It’s gonna start soon.”

“We were talking with her,” Jemma exclaims.

“And now you’re done,” says Ward, in a tone that is meant to mean the discussion is over.

Unfortunately for him, Skye sucks at understanding subtle cues, especially from assholes. “We’re done when she says we’re done!” she replies. “And you can just fuck off.”

Kara opens her mouth to reply, but then she glances at Ward and, off his frown, murmurs, “We’re done.”

Skye, who had been raring up for a fight, deflates a little and, though she looks concerned, she nods. “Okay. Uh, nice meeting you.” Then she turns to Ward. “Less nice seeing _you_ again.”

“Just like your sister, holding onto silly grudges and being a pain in the ass,” sighs Ward, starting to lead Kara off by the arm.

That’s such a stupid statement it takes a minute to register in Skye’s brain. “ _What?_ ” she finally asks.

Ward gestures vaguely at Lucky Bombshell’s table before sitting back down at Chest of Drawers’ table. “Flowers.”

“ _Raina?_ Oh my god, you idiot, we’re not related!” Skye can’t help but laugh, it’s so absurd.

“Are you sure?” Ward raises both eyebrows.

“My mom is Chinese, and you’re a fucking asshole,” growls Skye. “C’mon, Jemma.”

Jemma, who’s been watching this with an increasingly horrified expression, juts out her chin and huffs disdainfully. “I suppose we’ve just spent all of our allotted dealing with racists time for the day,” she says coolly, taking Skye’s hand.

They saunter back in the direction of their table, both of them radiating defiance to the best of their ability, but as they pass the Lucky Bombshell table Darcy loudly scoffs and mutters, “Nazis, am I right?” They have to stop to appreciate that one.

Skye snorts. “Apparently.” Then she turns to Raina and asks, almost shy, “Uh...what exactly did he mean by that?”

Raina blinks, and Laura says, “He is a very bad man.”

“He is,” Raina agrees, smiling with uncharacteristic softness at the younger woman before looking Skye straight-on and motioning her closer so she can talk quietly. “I had a fling with him.”

Skye can feel her mouth fall open. “Sorry?” she asks.

Raina laughs almost silently. “A fling,” she repeats. She nods to Lorelei, adding, “We both did.”

“To rather different effect,” Lorelei murmurs, smirking deviously.

“Oh my god,” says Skye, too horrified to leave. “Why?”

“Well, I had my suspicions,” Raina shrugs. “I’ve heard what those Hydra boys are capable of, and I’ve seen him in particular being horrendously creepy.” She raises an eyebrow at Skye. “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

“Well yeah, but...I didn’t need to test it out firsthand!” yelps Skye. “Are you okay?” Because Raina’s kind of weird and creepy but nobody deserves Ward’s bullshit.

Raina nods. “Believe me, if there was a way to get it known once and for all without getting involved, I would have,” she says. “But when _she_ was sleeping with him, she found out something that I just had to test out, and that was that he doesn’t use safewords.”

“Even worse than Christian Grey,” Darcy stage-whispers.

“And that was the cherry on the sundae,” Raina continues. “I put on my best exotic sub act and seduced him into what I can only describe as a few weeks of increasingly rough, increasingly dangerous sadomasochism. I’m a big girl, I can handle it, but I needed to hear exactly what he’d say and see and feel exactly what he’d do when he didn’t feel like he had to hold back. I needed the proof to be able to expose him.” As punctuation, she puts her arms on the table, wrists up, to show the still-healing cuts.

“He choked her, too,” says Nebula, sounding disgusted. “Broke blood vessels.”

“And when she said she was done for the night, he didn’t respect that,” Carina murmurs. “Violently.” She shudders.

“I managed to get audio of that one,” Raina says, with an expression like she’s not going to explain how.

“And to no one’s surprise, he used racial slurs,” adds MJ with a roll of her eyes.

“Good god,” Jemma murmurs.

Skye’s been quiet, mostly just looking horrified, but she finally asks, “Uh, are you, uh, okay, do you need…?” What, she’s not sure, but she couldn’t just listen to that and not offer some kind of help.

“I promise I’m all right,” Raina declares, smiling her vaguely eerie smile. “I want you to spread this like wildfire, though. All of you. I could take it, and that’s exactly why I had to, to keep it from happening to someone else.”

“Okay.” Skye nods. “Um. Can we…?” She nods toward the restroom.

“I’ll go let the boys and Gwen and Akela know you’ll just be a minute,” Jemma offers, hurrying off to do.

Looking wholly unsurprised, Raina nods and pushes out of her chair. “Back quickly,” she says, heading straight in the direction of the ladies’ and knowing Skye is following.

Once they’re inside, Skye says, “Um, okay, so when I was visiting my mom, y’know, she runs this charity to help abuse survivors, and she had, like, this picture in her office and I recognized you in it. And I guess I just wanted to...make sure this-” she nods at Raina’s wrists “-doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Which picture was it?” Raina asks.

“There were three women, painting a living room,” says Skye. “They all looked happy. And Jiaying - my mom - she said the girl in the picture called herself Raina too.”

Raina smiles again, more distantly. “Who would have thought that you were the long-gone Daisy,” she muses. “I heard her talking about you once. I don’t think I was supposed to have, but I did. From what she told Gordon, I think she thought you were dead back then, no thanks to your father. He sounded like a piece of work.”

Skye laughs. “Yeah, that’s what she said. I guess it’s just as well I don’t remember him.”

“I’ve known the sort,” Raina says. “Trust me, it’s for the better.”

“Wait a minute. You didn’t answer me,” says Skye, but she’s grinning a bit.

“This has nothing to do with that,” Raina promises. “Honestly, the shit Grant Ward pulls isn’t something anyone should experience, but I’ve known worse. Consider it a necessary experiment.” She chuckles. “I know you’re smart enough to stay the fuck away from him, but in case anyone might let themselves be fooled, they should know what he’s capable of.”

Skye nods. “So...this is kind of weird but I have this network set up at the mall, like, a secret internet? Would it be okay if I put the proof up on there? It’d spread faster that way than by word of mouth, I think.”

“How resourceful,” Raina smirks. “I can get the audio and the photos I took emailed to you tonight.” She thinks a moment, then adds, “And written descriptions, for anyone who doesn’t want to look at it directly.”

“Okay! Thanks, that’ll be...good.” Skye nods.

“Of course,” Raina murmurs, very briefly laying a hand on Skye’s shoulder before withdrawing. “And honestly, I’m pretty sure his thinking we’re sisters is part of why he slept with me in the first place, so even though he’s an idiot for thinking that, I feel like that means it’s my not-sisterly responsibility to tell you to look out.”

Skye snorts. “Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks for the warning. But we’d better go back cause it’s hard for me to stop making fun of Ward once I start.”

“There would be worse sisters to have,” Raina says cheerily. “Let’s rejoin our teams before your girlfriend starts to worry.” And with that, she turns on her heel and heads for the door.

Skye gets back to her table just as Scott’s reading off the team names. “Jupiter Phoenix, Lucky Bombshell, Bludgeon of Broken Families, The Rebel Alliance, The Howling Commandos, Nippyfrost, and Promise of the Champion!”

Jarvis, who’s been drinking, calls out (louder than his usual voice), “Who in the bloody hell is that? They sound atrocious!”

“Chest of Drawers, mate,” says Lance, gesturing toward the Hydra table.

Peggy snorts out a laugh.

Scott’s first question is “For what purpose were Chihuahuas originally bred?”

“For food and for sacrifices,” says Dum Dum to the rest of his team.

Angie widens her eyes. “Oh.”

“What single city contains about twenty percent of the residents of its entire continent?” asks Scott.

“New York!” says Skye eagerly.

Trip raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think…”

Skye turns to glare at him.

“Okay.” He shrugs and dutifully writes down the answer.

“It’s Sydney,” Isabelle says confidently. “I spent some time there. Very overpopulated city.”

The rest of the round continues much as it has before, and then the music round starts. It starts with a song that sounds like it’s from the forties that’s something about an evil bumblebee, and no one quite knows what to make of it.

“This is going to be my Halloween costume this year,” Darcy announces.

Rogue giggles. “Really, Darce?”

“Really,” Darcy agrees. “I’ll get a sexy bee costume and, like, fangs and a knife.”

The next song is immediately recognizable for its painful badness, and the strumming guitar and vaguely breathy male voice gives it away. “Fuck John Mayer,” hisses Dottie, and Peggy nods and cringes dramatically.

Meanwhile, over at Hydra’s table, Ward wiggles his eyebrows at Kara. She can’t help it, she flinches, but the longer he stares at her the more her (tentative, entirely wary) smile grows.

When the last of the songs starts up, Hydra immediately starts yelling “Bullshit!” because the song appears to be in Korean.

“2NE1,” Bobbi says. “It’s called ‘I Am the Best.’ Annoyingly catchy, weirdly good for working out.” She glances up to see Raina writing it down with a smug smile and Skye whispering it in Trip’s ear eagerly.

The first sports question is, “What is the name of the Rhode Island School of Design's Hockey Team?”

Lorelei snickers. “Write _the Nads_ ,” she says. She’s more immature here than she is anywhere else, but it’s a good outlet.

Over at the Rebel Alliance’s table, Maria’s smirking as she says, “It’s the Nads. No, really.”

The next one, “What is the lightest weight category in professional boxing?”, almost seems too easy.

“Flyweight,” Peggy hisses, tossing back the last of her drink and waving Lance over for a refill.

Lance ambles over and, noticing Dottie, gives her a smirk. “How’s the night treating you, love?”

“Fine,” says Dottie, curling her lip just slightly.

“What are you up to after this? ‘Cause I was thinking maybe we could get another drink together, if you were up for it…”

“I think I’m up to anything that doesn’t involve you,” snorts Dottie.

“Are you going to go over and help him out?” Bobbi whispers to Isabelle, looking vaguely mortified. “I mean, _you’re_ actually his friend.”

Isabelle snorts. “Are you kidding me? This is hilarious. I _live_ for Hunter embarrassing himself in front of women. I haven’t had this since college, this is great.”

Hunter kind of stammers for a bit before taking Peggy’s drink order and slinking off with his metaphorical tail between his legs, leaving Dottie looking very satisfied.

“Harsh, Dot,” says Gabe, but he’s giggling.

“Warranted, I’d say,” Peggy sniffs.

The next question is “What year were girls first allowed to play Little League Baseball?”

“1974,” says Isabelle.

Dottie gives the same answer, looking smug about it.

There’s grumbling coming from Hydra’s table, naturally. “PC bullshit,” snorts Rumlow.

Sports goes fairly smoothly, and as he tallies Lance is shocked and terrified to see that Lucky Bombshell’s inappropriate anatomical joke actually wound up being true this time; all of the teams are feeling all right at the end of the round, with the possible exception of Hydra, who are making faces at each other.

Then it’s onto history, which starts with the question, “At the time the American colonies went to war with England, which American city had the largest population?”

“Philadelphia, obviously,” Peggy mutters.

Most of the Rebel Alliance looks puzzled until Mack says “It’s Philadelphia.”

Melinda and Sif glance at each other and Melinda murmurs, “Nice to be on such a low-pressure, cooperative team.” Sif grins and nods.

“We’re glad to oblige,” Anne says smugly, overhearing.

Scott’s next question is, “Which President once killed a mountain lion with a knife?”

“I bet it was Teddy Roosevelt,” Darcy exclaims.

“Why?” asks Rogue.

“Because that man was a walking meme,” Darcy replies.

One of the later questions of the category is, “For what crime was Socrates sentenced to death by poison?”

“Impiety and corruption of youth,” Victoria whispers, smirking.

“Sounds familiar,” Bobbi chuckles.

Isabelle waggles her eyebrows. “ _Does_ it now.”

Meanwhile, Lucky Bombshell is looking at each other like they’re daring one another to see who can come up with the best answer, until MJ finally says “Too many orgies” with a devious look on her face.

“And that would have had to have been a _lot_ of orgies,” Lorelei declares.

Hydra is writing something down that no one else overhears but that causes Kara’s eyes to go wide and her jaw to drop; Nebula notices this and narrows her eyes. “Would it be acceptable for me to walk by and ‘accidentally’ cut him a little?” she asks.

“I don’t think you could accidentally cut him anywhere it would count,” Carina whispers.

“Damn.” Nebula’s pulled out her knife and is habitually playing with it. “I want to.”

“In time,” Raina says airily.

Scott passes out the identification grids, the theme of which turns out to be 80s cartoons. Hydra begins confidently, immediately getting _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,_ _Transformers_ , and, thanks to one member, _My Little Pony,_ before stalling out. They manage to announce these so loudly that if anyone hadn’t known those three before, they would.

Lorelei frowns at a square of big-eyed cartoon dogs wearing what appear to be thrift store apparel, murmuring, “I highly doubt they actually made a cartoon called _Sweater Puppies_.”

“ _Pound Puppies_ , weirdo,” Darcy chuckles, feeling kind of cool that she’s comfortable enough with terrifying hot Lorelei to call her a weirdo to her face.

“I think knowing that makes you much weirder,” Lorelei retorts cheerfully.

“Well, this is a fucking rip-off,” Bobbi says. “Where the hell is _Jem and the Holograms_?”

“Should’ve asked the trailer for the movie that,” says Maria with a smirk. Maya snorts out a laugh.

Mack rolls his eyes. “That’s _Thundercats_ ,” he says, pointing at one of the squares.

“That one’s _Rainbow Brite_ , Sharon loved that when she was little,” Peggy points out.

Looking over the sheet, Gabe adds, “And that’s _Muppet Babies_ , that was Trip’s favorite.”

Skye and Trip and Peter are too busy yelping all of the answers for anyone else at Jupiter Phoenix to get a word in edgewise, not that anyone is trying. Jemma looks vaguely embarrassed about her lack of knowledge (but then, she can’t help that she was too busy watching educational programs as long as she could stand children’s television) and Fitz just looks baffled, as does Akela. Gwen is rolling her eyes and dutifully writing down the answers.

To kick off the entertainment category, Scott asks, “What actor who played a Batman villain was also in a 1950s musical?”

“Julie Newmar,” Bobbi and Isabelle say in union, completely by accident, and then turn to look at each other.

“How did you know that?” asks Isabelle.

“How did _you_ know that?” Bobbi counters.

“Catholic school, they showed movies a lot and new movies showed too much cleavage and had swearing.” Isabelle shrugs.

Bobbi chuckles. “I like watching women perform,” she says. “You’ve seen her legs, right?”

“Jesus, you two, get a room,” Maya supplies helpfully, smiling reassuringly at Victoria when she notices the slight alarm crossing her face.

The rest of the category proceeds accordingly, and Hydra becomes progressively more annoyed as they’re unable to answer questions. Ward in particular gets both louder and more handsy, pawing at Kara more blatantly. Kara seems to be all right with this, or at least she’s pretending to be all right, smiling nervously, but it’s pretty clear this isn’t her first idea of a good time.

“Is everything okay over there?” Bobbi asks in a low voice, pretending to be focused on the answer sheet.

“Doesn’t look like it,” says Mack, eyes narrowed.

“Of course it’s not okay, it’s the Nazi squad,” Victoria mutters.

Melinda snorts. “I’d like to teach him a lesson.”

“I don’t think we should do that right now,” Bobbi mumbles. “If we try to make a scene, he might escalate it, or take it out on her. Or she might get the wrong idea and take his side.”

Maria’s nodding. “She’s got a point, sadly. We should keep an eye on him though.”

Scott announces that the category for lists is “Ten shows that have won for Best Outstanding Comedy since 1980!”

At this, Angie perks up. “Now that’s more like it! This is my kind of category.”

“Get us started, darling?” Peggy suggests.

“ _Friends, Arrested Development, 30 Rock, Modern Family, Seinfeld,”_ Angie rattles off without missing a beat.

The girls of Lucky Bombshell, however, seem much more perplexed. “Darcy?” Carina asks hopefully.

“If I _can_ stay away from television comedies, I will,” Darcy shrugs.

“Can we just describe the plot of every television comedy that gets critical acclaim?” Raina asks. “A group of white people, bonded either by blood or circumstance, finds themselves embroiled in wacky mishaps that may or may not occasionally involve caricatures of minority groups?”

“That one gal in _Modern Family_ is Latina,” says Rogue with a wry smirk. “You know ‘cause she speaks bad English or somethin’.”

“My point stands,” Raina deadpans.

Over at Jupiter Phoenix, Skye is bemoaning the Academy’s poor taste while the others wrack their brains for more answers (they’ve written down six). Once when she pauses to take a breath, she overhears the discussion Lucky Bombshell is having and snickers. “Pretty good description, actually.”

No one’s really surprised when the Howling Commandos win the night. The Rebel Alliance and Jupiter Phoenix are right behind them, “and none for Chest of Drawers, bye,” says Skye with a grin. Hydra’s table probably can’t hear her, but she ducks when one of them starts to look her way, just in case.

As they’re standing to leave, Peggy makes a point of meeting the eyes of every one of the women who’d been in their restroom strategy session and nodding respectfully (it especially seems to make Jemma smile). Bobbi waves politely, Jemma gives nervous salutes, Carina just smiles and shoves her hands in her pockets.

Bobbi and Mack leave together, almost making it to Mack’s truck before Howard stops them. “Hey there,” he says, clearly addressing only Bobbi. “Where you headed? I think I could offer you a pretty good time.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m headed home, where I’m going to be getting a pretty good time all by myself,” she snaps.

“You don’t say?” He raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like something I’d like to see.”

The only response she gives to that is a quick punch to his jaw.

“Holy shit,” says Victoria, who’s just come out of the building. It’s alarmingly fun watching the other woman get angry, she’s realizing.

“What?” asks Isabelle, who’s a few steps behind and didn’t see any of it.

“Bobbi just decked creepy Stark Sr.,” Victoria murmurs.

“Dammit, I miss everything fun,” Isabelle grumbles. Then she says, a little softer, “Was it hot?”

“Unbearably,” Victoria admits.

“We should talk about that more when we get back to your place.”

“Please.” Victoria is suddenly starting to feel like a creep, so she raises her hand and waves Bobbi and Mack goodnight, then beelines for her car.

Mack glances at Bobbi. “You good?”

“Yeah, good enough,” she replies. “It okay with you if we keep watch for a minute?” She means, of course, for Ward and Kara.

He nods. “Sure thing."

They don’t have to wait long before the two emerge: Ward holding Kara’s hand, Kara looking a bit skittish and sticking close to him. Bobbi glances at Mack and he nods again, and they wait for Ward’s car to leave before getting into the truck and driving after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [and how her restless mind keeps her up in the night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/9499179).


	47. tongue tied and twisted, go on baby and go to my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Maya attempt to talk to Kara. Meanwhile, a variety of characters attend Isabelle's kickboxing class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: unknowing discussion of abusive relationship.

**SECRET INTERNET**  
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 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _JupiterPhoenix_ , 18-June-2015  
_So, Ward is even more of a gross dickhead than we thought. Tell me someone else saw the weird shit going on with him and that girl?_

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _FuckOff_ , 18-June-2015  
_Yeah, I did. I wanted to cut him but Carina said no._

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _SunbeamBerry_ , 18-June-2015  
_I didn’t say no, I said you wouldn’t be able to do it effectively without making a scene. There’s an important difference. Should someone intervene in a less-violent way?_

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _Mockingbird_ , 18-June-2015  
_It wouldn’t be a bad idea for someone to try to talk to Kara, away from Ward. It’s entirely possible she just doesn’t know how horrible he is._

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip •** _PeerReview_ , 18-June-2015  
_Pepper and I could do it if nobody else wants to. I’m pretty okay at debunking the myth of seemingly-charming douchebags._

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _Potts,_ 18-June-2015  
_Kara seems like a nice girl. I’m fine with going to talk to her, but you’ll need to fill me in on the details of what went on before we do that, Maya._

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _Tinkerballs,_ 18-June-2015  
_Good. Bobbi and I tailed them to his place after trivia, but we couldn’t do much after they got out of the car and went inside._

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • _Mockingbird,_ 18-June-2015  
_Let us know how it goes and if we can do anything to help._

 

* * *

 

Pepper tentatively opens the door to the admin office, all smiles, and when she sees Karen and Kara clustered around the front desk she calls, “Hi!”

“Oh, hey, Pepper,” Karen says with a shy smile. Pepper is one of the people she knows of but doesn’t really know and yet finds incredibly impressive and put-together. “You need somethin’?”

“I was actually just coming to invite you both to lunch with Maya and I,” Pepper says. “The sort of getting-to-know-you offer that we’ve been remiss in not extending so far.”

“Shit, I actually told the boys I was gonna run errands at my lunch,” Karen exclaims, looking mortified. “I am so sorry! Can I make it up another time?”

“Of course you can,” Pepper replies warmly. Truth told, this is actually easier, because they don’t know what Kara has told Karen that might complicate her presence for this conversation. “Kara, what about you?”

Kara tucks hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I could get lunch,” she says shyly. “Thank you.”

They gather their purses, and Karen grins as she says, “See you soon!” and heads out the door. Once she’s out of sight Pepper goes to hold the door for Kara.

“It’s just food court lunch, not classy at all, but I’ll cover you,” Pepper explains. “Maya should be waiting for us.” They get their food (a smoothie for Pepper, a slice of pizza for Kara) and find the table Maya has already claimed.

“Hey,” Maya says cheerfully. “Parking is hell today, I’m really glad I’m out of here after this.”

“Maya is in grad school,” Pepper explains. “Her schedule is a mess a lot of the time because of classes and projects.”

“Oh!” Kara exclaims. “That’s neat, what are you studying?”

“Biotechnology at the moment,” Maya shrugs. “But you can name a biology subfield and I’ve probably dabbled in it.”

“That’s so impressive,” Kara murmurs. “I’m pretty hopeless at science myself.”

Pepper and Maya exchange a glance, both of them wondering how much of that perceived hopelessness, just in a general sense, was there before Kara tangled up with Ward. “Well, we’ve all got talents,” Pepper says diplomatically. “But that’s enough of that. How are you liking it here? Are you seeing anybody, have you made any good friends?”

“Oh, it’s nice here!” Kara says. “I haven’t met that many people yet, I’m not very good at putting myself out there, but I’m sort of seeing a guy from IKEA. Grant, do you know him?”

Maya and Pepper exchange glances, trying their hardest not to let their revulsion show. “Yeah, I saw you two together at trivia,” Maya says. “Look, uh…”

“Have you been around him and his friends much?” Pepper asks carefully.

“Not really,” Kara shrugs. “I mean, I’d spoken to a few of them before trivia, but so far we’ve just been hanging out and getting to know each other by ourselves.”

It’s an innocent enough answer, but it still makes Maya frown. “Have you heard about what they get up to?” she asks.

“Well, they’re not really that good at trivia,” Kara admits, smirking and looking like she’s shocked she’s daring to do so.

“Yeah, no, it’s… you haven’t heard anything?” Pepper asks. “Any rumors?”

Kara wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like to listen to rumors,” she says warily.

“Well, you might want to listen to these,” Maya replies. “Look, a lot of those IKEA guys, they, uh, they’re bad news. They’re in a gang.”

“What, you mean, like _Grease_?” Kara asks, chuckling.

Pepper shakes her head. “More like _American History X_ ,” she says. “Have you noticed that none of their friends aren’t white?”

“Well, I’m not white,” Kara retorts.

“Well, have you seen his tattoo?” Maya asks instead, because that’s an easier way of explaining it than the other, she thinks.

“No,” Kara says. “I haven’t… I mean, we haven’t slept together yet, so I haven’t seen him naked. What does a tattoo have to do with anything?”

“Look, Ward and his friends are Nazis,” Pepper mutters. “They’re in a Nazi gang.”

“I overheard one of them saying that their trivia team was almost going to be named Aryan Nightmare Void,” Maya adds.

Kara just stares at them for a moment, looking shocked and confused. “That sounds like something out of a movie,” she says. “A bad one.”

“It does, but it’s completely true,” Maya sighs.

“I don’t understand,” Kara says. “Grant would never do a thing like that! He was in a lot of trouble when he was younger, there was a fire at his parents’ vacation house and they blamed it on him, but he’s a good person.”

“No, he really isn’t,” Maya replies.

“You don’t know him like I do!” Kara exclaims, abruptly standing up and frowning at the others. “You’re both just… you’re _jealous_!” And with that, she storms off in a huff.

“Shit,” Maya mutters.

“Look, we’ll figure something out,” Pepper sighs. “I should get back to work. See you at kickboxing tonight?”

 

* * *

 

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • By _PeerReview,_ 18-June-2015  
_We tried talking to her. It didn’t go well._

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • By _LikeAGirl_ , 18-June-2015  
_Oh shit. What happened?_

 **Re: Trivia Night Gossip** • By _Potts_ , 18-June-2015  
_She didn’t want to believe us when we said he was awful and stormed off. Very “but Daddy, I love him!” except with more willful denial of Nazism._

 

* * *

 

“Okay, time for warm ups!” says Isabelle, calling her class to attention. “Side taps first!” She demonstrates the movement for them.

Everyone responds accordingly, though Skye murmurs to Jemma, “I’m glad everyone else is doing this too so no one can judge how stupid I look.”

“I’m sure there’s a point to it,” Jemma replies. Her brow is furrowed with concentration.

Skye continues to moan quietly as Isabelle leads them through the rest of the warmup, then starts them on the actual moves. “Okay, this is the part where I apologize for my cheapass gym that refuses to buy enough punching bags for you all,” says Isabelle with a grin. “That’s why you’re all going to partner up after I show you the basics.”

She demonstrates the jab, cross, face block, and kick moves for them, and they mirror her. “Good, good. Alright, now you’re gonna split off into partners. Experienced person with inexperienced person.”

Skye looks over at Jemma, and sees that she’s wearing an identical expression of dismay. “Well,” says Skye, with an uncertain grin. “At least this way I can’t accidentally punch you in the face or something?”

“Yes,” Jemma says faintly, but she’s too terrified to move.

“Shall we?” comes Peggy’s voice from beside her. “If you didn’t already have someone picked out, that is.”

Jemma’s eyes go even wider. “No!” she exclaims. “I’m… I’d like to partner with you, yes.” She looks at Skye with more of that anxiety.

“Aw, go on,” says Skye, patting her on the arm. “You’ll be fine.” She glances around a bit nervously.

Melinda slips over and asks, “Partners?”

“Sure.” Skye lets out a breath that would be a sigh of relief if she would admit to it, and nods.

Maya and Pepper just shrug amiably at each other.

Laura looks over at Darcy. “You do not know things, and I do. It would make sense for us to be partners.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Darcy agrees with a chuckle.

The remaining two, Dottie and Ana, size each other up. “I guess I should look out for you,” says Dottie dubiously.

“I promise I am far from a helpless child,” Ana smirks, “but thank you.”

Isabelle calls out, “Okay, I’m gonna demonstrate the first sequence for you now. Then the experienced ones can give it a go, if you feel comfortable. When the inexperienced partners feel ready, they can try it.” She demonstrates a fairly elementary sequence of kicks and jabs.

Melinda glances over at Skye, smirking. “Ready for this?”

Eyes wide, Skye nods slowly.

“Counting off, three, two, one, go!” says Isabelle.

Peggy launches into the routine almost perfectly, like she’s known it for years, and Jemma can’t help but gape. “You’re incredible,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry?” Peggy asks, pausing.

“In… you’re…” Jemma shakes her head, blushing. “Do you come a lot, then?”

“When I can,” Peggy says. “It’s an acceptable excuse to beat the shit out of something, and given how often I find myself wanting to do that, it’s a good outlet.” Said completely cheerily.

“Oh!” Jemma giggles. “That makes sense.”

Dottie is having no trouble at all with the moves, looking almost bored as she goes through the sequence a few times for Ana’s benefit. “So exactly how much do you know how to do?” she asks as she moves.

“This is new to me,” Ana says. “I’ve done aerobics, though, and I’m aware of how to throw a decent punch.”

Nodding, Dottie looks a bit lost in thought for a moment. “Alright. You ready to try it?”

“I think so.” Ana steps up to the bag with a ready smile.

Over where Maya and Pepper have teamed up, Maya seems to be struggling. She can punch and she can kick, but her rhythm is, plainly put, terrible.

“We could go over it slower if you wanted?” Pepper offers.

“Need help?” asks Isabelle, coming over.

“Sadly,” Maya sighs. “It shouldn’t be this hard, but then again, I’m the girl who’d skip PE to go read in the library.”

Isabelle chuckles. “It’s all right. Here, try it again?”

Maya does, trying to keep pace and somewhat failing.

“Alright, well, your stance needs work,” says Isabelle, not unkindly. “Er, do you mind if I touch you to correct it?”

“Please,” Maya replies.

Isabelle gently adjusts her as needed, then says, “Try it this way.”

Again, Maya does, going a bit slower this time. “Like this?”

Not really, but Isabelle sees no reason to be unkind. “Better. One more time, a little slower so I can see exactly where you’re having trouble?”

Pepper’s been watching all of this with a giant smile. She’s pretty used to the routine in here, she’s fine just waiting, but it’s really adorable watching Maya put in all this effort for reasons unspecified but obvious. “I’m gonna grab a drink of water while you sort it out,” she says, turning to do so.

Darcy and Laura are also having a bit of trouble. “You’re doing it wrong,” says Laura.

“How?” Darcy asks, sounding petulant.

“Would you like a detailed list or an overview?”

“Whichever one helps me get better at punching,” Darcy declares. “I can’t always rely on a taser or a conveniently-located swimming pool to do my job for me.”

Laura nods. “Your thumb should go on the outside of your fist, otherwise it may shatter when you make contact with your target. And your stance is weak - I could push you over easily.” She gives Darcy a gentle shove to prove her point. Darcy sways and then rights herself with a pout. “Stand with your legs farther apart and keep your weight centered. That will make it harder to knock you down.”

“Centered,” Darcy repeats, trying to mimic the stance Laura displays. “Like this?”

“Yes. Very good. Now try the moves again.”

“Careful,” Pepper murmurs as she rejoins Maya and Isabelle. “She’s going to start doing your job for you.” It’s said with a nod in Laura and Darcy’s direction.

Isabelle laughs. “She’s welcome to try. I’m not sure that’ll catch on though.”

“Her style does seem a little less accessible,” Maya agrees. “Effective, though, maybe.”

“No,” Laura’s saying, “your rhythm is awful. Watch me do it again.”

“She doesn’t sugarcoat,” Pepper muses.

“Which works, but doesn’t always make your clients happy.” Isabelle smirks.

“I don’t think anything could make some people happy while they’re learning how to beat up a bag,” Maya mutters, clearly speaking from experience.

“Bags today, douchebags tomorrow,” replies Isabelle fake-cheerfully.


	48. again again I let it go, let it go, cover my mouth, don't let a single word slip out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy works on organizing a game for her fellow mall employees, and Maria has to intercept a confrontation gone awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: subtle verbal abuse.

“Okay, so we’re not doing too bad!” Darcy muses, looking over the spreadsheet she’s got pulled up on her laptop. “Somehow Natasha’s entire pile is actually on a bottle, so they’re all good, Maya and Pepper, or, y’know, _Virginia_ , they’re taken care of.”

Skye snorts. “God, that’s such a bad name. No wonder she goes by Pepper. My sympathies to her.”

“Plus this way her name can be a pun, so that’s always a plus,” Darcy giggles. “Rogue’s gonna use Anna and Marie both since technically they’re both her names, then MJ’s gonna use Mary, Carina’s gonna use Carrie, Nebula’s gonna use Nikki - and doesn’t that sound like a bad movie from the 90s - and Laura’s just on a bottle as is. Gamora’s using either spelling of Gabriella, Quill’s using his first name, Drax is using Dallas because, and I quote, ‘This man was very heroic and helped the alien girl get to the cave so that she could let out the light.’”

“Uh, I feel like that’s a movie but I’m not sure which one.” Skye raises an eyebrow.

“ _The Fifth Element,_ ” Darcy explains blithely.

“Oh! Duh.” Laughing, Skye adds, “Well, I haven’t told you everyone’s names on my end, have I?”

“No, but you need to let me read you the ones that people have actually posted on the secret internet already, since you clearly haven’t looked at the thread,” Darcy says. “Bobbi’s using Barb or Bob, Mack got sort of close with Alfonso, Sif is going very 80s with Stefanie, and Raina, to nobody’s surprise, opted for Rose.” She grins. “And I, of course, chose Asha, because if the show’s not going to use it then I damn well will.”

“Nice! I went with Belinda because Coke’s not cool enough to have my name, I guess, or Jemma’s. She said she wants Jenna, or anything that starts with ‘Jen.’ Trip went with Antonio, and weirdly enough they _do_ make Leo.”

“I have to ask,” Darcy begins, “why Belinda?”

Skye giggles. “I mean, you heard about what my dad named me, right?”

“Indeed I did,” Darcy says, “and I’m pretty sure _that_ has a Coke bottle.”

“Yeah, but I’m not using it. I figured Belinda _also_ sounds like the name of a cow, so why not?” Grinning, Skye adds, “Also, because it’s funny.”

“Aw, but you’d be a very cute cow,” Darcy teases.

“Make all the boy cows go MOOOO?” asks Skye playfully.

“And all the queer girl cows too,” Darcy agrees. She checks the time and wrinkles her nose. “Anyway, I have to pop over to sneakerville to get Wanda and her brother signed up. Feel free to recruit on your own, too.”

Skye gives her a salute. “Will do, chief.”

Darcy beams, gathers her tablet and soda, and starts for the Foot Locker. It being one o’ clock on a weekday means that there’s almost nobody there except her current conversational targets, one of which is jogging around the store straightening boxes that already look perfectly fine and the other who is sitting on one of the benches writing in a notebook.

The boy looks up from the box he’s pretending to fix. “Hello,” he says. “Can I help you find something?” He manages to make this sound suggestive.

Darcy raises an eyebrow. “Uh. Yo.” She gives a half-salute half-wave. “I brought the stuff for the Coke game.”

Wanda blinks. “Oh yes. Please explain this?”

“So!” Darcy grins, then goes to sit on the bench next to but not too close to Wanda. “They’ve been putting out these Coke bottles with people’s names on them, I think they started doing it last summer and then this summer it started again. When Skye and her bunch were in the airport in San Fransokyo they realized that there are a lot of bottles with people we know’s names on them and started taking pictures.”

“And that’s the whole game?” asks Pietro, looking a bit dumbfounded.

“Not exactly.” Here Darcy pulls up her spreadsheet with a flourish. “They make a lot of people’s names, but they don’t make everyone’s. So for those whose names aren’t available, I have a list of pseudonyms to choose from.”

Wanda takes the spreadsheet from her and scans it carefully for a while before smiling. “My name’s there,” she says. “Good.”

“Mine won’t be,” says Pietro sourly, looking over it. “I suppose I will take Pete.”

“You could always get wacky with it,” Darcy suggests. “I mean, I chose Asha, for chrissakes.”

He shrugs. “Pete will be fine. It is a less ridiculous name than Peter.”

“Pete it is,” Darcy says, making notes on her spreadsheet. “You wanna look over the other pseudonyms we’ve got going? Whoever has the most bottles documented by the end of the run is gonna get a prize.”

“What sort of prize?” Wanda asks.

“Haven’t decided yet.” Darcy shrugs cheerfully. “It may or may not be the cheap entertainment-related souvenir of one’s choice.”

Wanda chuckles. “Alright. Let me see the list.”

“It’s not complete yet,” Darcy explains, “but we’ve got a few of the alt names picked out already, anyway. The full list will be on the board when it’s done.”

“Ah, I see. I will look at that then, thank you.”

Coulson wanders in, making his very best Official Cop Business face. “Darcy,” he says, nodding a greeting. “You’re Pietro, right? And…”

“Wanda.”

“Hey, great, we can get you signed up for the Coke game too!” Darcy exclaims.

“The what?” Coulson stares at her as if she’s just informed him she’s part velociraptor.

“The game I’m running to see who can find the most name-emblazoned Coke bottles by the end of the summer!” she explains chipperly. “Conveniently, I know Phil is on the automatic list, so all that’s left is to get your email for the official list!”

Nodding slowly, as if he’s still processing, Coulson says, “Oh. Ah, all right.”

“Enter it here,” Darcy declares, handing him her tablet.

He does, looking slightly blindsided the whole time. “Here you go.”

“Sweet,” Darcy says. “Winner is going to get a prize.”

They stand around looking awkwardly at each other for a moment before a loud, angry voice drifts in from outside. It’s not quite yelling, but the person’s obviously upset. Coulson frowns and heads out of the store to see what the commotion’s all about.

“I know I told you dark blue! Why did you buy light blue?” It’s Grant Ward. That explains a lot. Coulson sighs.

Ward’s directing his anger at a shorter brunette woman that Coulson’s seen around recently, but he doesn’t know her name. “The only shirt they had in your size that was dark blue was too expensive,” she murmurs. “I didn’t feel right paying that kind of money. I thought you wouldn’t mind, it’s, it’s a very nice blue.”

“Yes, but it’s not the one I wanted,” he says, speaking slower now, as if to a child. “I thought you’d be able to figure that out.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, ducking her head.

“Apologies don’t mean shit when-”

And that’s when Coulson decides to stop being a bystander. “Excuse me,” he calls, trying for cheerful but businesslike. “Is there a problem here?”

“No,” says Ward, trying to herd the girl away.

“Are you sure?” Coulson turns to her. “Do you need help, miss? Is he bothering you?”

“No,” she repeats, seeming uncomfortable with the formal address. She looks at Ward almost wildly before adding, “You don’t need to be so nosy.”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting. Coulson pauses for a moment before replying, “Well, miss, my job as a security officer is to keep the peace here. Your friend there was causing a disturbance and I felt it necessary to come over and investigate.”

Ward scoffs. “Always getting into other people’s business, aren’t you, Coulson?” He practically sneers the last bit.

“Only when their business interferes with me being able to do my job. Look, Mr. Ward, do you really think that was the best way to handle that situation?”

“I’m not sure you’re qualified to answer that,” says Ward. “You don’t know the details of the situation.”

“Maybe not, but there are very few situations that call for that sort of behavior.” Coulson’s frowning, unwittingly making his very best disappointed dad face. “You do realize at this point I could take you back to the security office for a visit with Fury, don’t you?”

Ward laughs. “On what grounds? You haven’t got shit on me.”

“Many scary, very Nazi, wow,” Darcy whispers, half to herself and half to the twins. This isn’t the fun kind of trainwreck to witness, but she still can’t avert her eyes.

Pietro snickers. Wanda tilts her head. “That’s one of the Nazis?”

“That’s _the_ Nazi,” Darcy says. “Or not, like, the head Nazi, I’m pretty sure he’d be the shittiest head of anything ever, but the one we’ve been talking about. The one who did that shit to Raina.”

“Oh.” Wanda narrows her eyes. “He looks like the type. Narcissistic, manipulative, self-absorbed.”

“All of that and more,” Darcy agrees.

Meanwhile, Coulson and Ward’s discussion has been getting more and more heated. “You have to understand that I can’t have you causing a disturbance in public like this,” says Coulson, sounding like he’s barely keeping it together.

“Good to know I can’t even raise my voice anymore,” replies Ward, and he’s not quite yelling but he’s well on his way. Next to him, Kara is fidgeting with her purse and her hair, looking simultaneously terrified and mortified.

“Sir, you are deliberately escalating the situation. I will use force if necessary.”

“Is something going on down there?” Maya murmurs, craning her neck to see down the corridor in the direction of the agitated voices.

Maria also looks in that direction. “Aw, shit,” she says, almost cheerfully. “It’s Ward and Coulson.”

“Should you… help?”

“Maybe.” Maria shrugs. “He might have this under control. Coulson usually tries to talk ‘em down before he calls in the big guns.”

“Meaning you,” Maya supplies playfully.

Chuckling, Maria nods, ducking her head. “Sometimes. Sometimes even Fury, if we can get him off his ass and out of the office. I dunno, though, Coulson’s methods work about half the time.”

But after waiting another minute or so, during which neither of the men has lowered their voices, Maria sighs. “Alright, I guess that’s my cue. Sorry to cut this short.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Maya shrugs. “You go do what you gotta do.”

Maria smiles at her before getting up from the table and striding towards the commotion. She pulls her taser out of her pocket just in case. “Hey!” she calls once she’s within earshot. “You wanna vacate, Ward, or get ten thousand volts in your ass?”

He scoffs. “You wouldn’t…”

Except she would. As he finds out momentarily.

While he’s writhing around, she glances over at Coulson. “Soft touch didn’t work, huh?”

He looks almost sheepish. “Sometimes it does.”

“Uh huh.” She glances down at Ward. “Do you need a stretcher, asshole?”

The noise he makes might be an answer, but mostly it just sounds pathetic.

“Grant!” Kara shouts, immediately dropping to her knees and hovering over him, making noises of worry.

“Well,” says Coulson, awkwardly, to Maria. “Thank you, I think.”

She smirks. “I figured you’d put him down eventually, but not until he made you. Acting as the middleman seemed like a good idea.”

“Appreciated.” He smiles. “Sorry for, uh, interrupting your lunch.”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “It’s fine. Maya understands.”

“Isn’t someone going to help him?” Kara near-shouts.

They both ignore her for a while, until finally Maria sighs, “Alright, let’s get him out of here.” Coulson nods, and they go to pick Ward up from the fetal position.

“Noooooo,” Ward whimpers, feebly attempting to escape their grasp. This, of course, does not work.

Kara whimpers too, making a face like she’s in pain along with him.

Maria turns to Coulson and makes a face as they drag Ward outside.

 

* * *

 

“-And he says ‘You wouldn’t’ like we’re in a fucking movie,” snorts Maria, downing the rest of her drink. “So I taze his ass, of course.”

“I, uh, I saw that part,” Maya murmurs. “It was pretty badass.”

“Thanks.” Maria grins sloppily. “So he went down and his girlfriend started fussing over him, and I gave Coulson shit until we got bored and dragged Ward’s ass outside. He tried to make a break for it once we hit the pavement, but he almost brought that poor girl down with him.”

“Make a break?” Maya echoes disbelievingly.

Maria giggles. “Well, I think he _thought_ was gonna make a break. What actually happened was, he tried to take a step and just about nosedived.”

“What did Kara do?”

“She tried to pull him up, but the poor thing couldn’t do it. I took pity on her and yanked him back to his feet, then Coulson told him to fuck off. Well, he said ‘leave the premises,’ but it was implied.”

Maya looks torn between chuckling and fretting. “I hope she’s okay,” she murmurs.

“I’m...not so sure.” For the first time that evening, Maria looks worried. “To hear Coulson tell it, he was being an asshole to her. I think he said she bought the wrong color shirt?”

“Fuck,” Maya says. “That’s...there’s no excuse for that.”

Maria shakes her head. “After he said that, I figured if Fury gets on my ass for it, I’ll at least feel good about myself.”

“How could he?” Maya asks. “You were doing your job, both as a security guard and a decent human being. You should feel great about yourself.” She’s had enough to drink that she barely even blushes as she says it.

That makes Maria smile. “You’re sweet. You’re also kinda drunk.”

Maya shrugs. “I got a nearly perfect grade on an exam, so there’s that to celebrate,” she says. “And, y’know. It’s getting-drunk-girls-night. It’s what we do.”

“It is,” says Maria. “So like, that secret internet shit that I’m not allowed on, they should probably know about this, right?”

“Oh, you know we’d let you on if we could!” Maya exclaims, momentarily distracted. “It’s absolutely not personal. Not like with a lot of the people who don’t get invited." She snickers.

“I completely understand,” replies Maria. “Legal whatnot and all. I don’t really care, but I know it’s how you guys get news spread sometimes. This is me giving you permission to tell them about this.”

Maya nods. “I think it needs to be shared, so thank you.”

“Of course.” Maria reaches over to pat Maya’s hand. “Anytime.”

 

* * *

 

 **Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _PeerReview,_ 24-June-2015  
_For those of you who didn’t witness or already hear about it, Grant Motherfucking Ward is at it again. According to Maria, who has given me full permission to disclose this, he was howling at Kara for buying him the wrong shirt in full view of the entire mall. Coulson tried to talk it out like he does, but when that didn’t work Maria had to tase him, and even then he didn’t pretend to act ashamed. Kara, for her part, was doting on him like it was her job._

_Guys, I’m really starting to worry._

**Re: Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _Asha_ , 24-June-2015  
_I can back this up. It was appalling and I for one am mildly stunned at Officer Dad. More importantly I want to go all dracarys on Ward’s ass, but._

 **Re: Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _InYourHead,_ 24-June-2015  
_I was there as well. He was very rude, aggressive, and threatening. (I suspect narcissistic personality disorder but would need more data.) This has been going on for a while?_

 **Re: Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _AndThorns_ , 24-June-2015  
_I’ll be glad to provide any data. That boy is unhealthy in a thousand ways._

 **Re: Sighing: Great White Asshole** • By _Melinda_ , 24-June-2015  
_I am going to be doing so much yoga when I get home. Hopefully I won’t punch something before then._

 **Re: Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _EnPointe_ , 24-June-2015  
_You doing okay, Mel? There are other ways to calm down than yoga, y’know. Physical ways. I bet Sif would be able to help you out with that._

 **Re: Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _LikeAGirl_ , 24-June-2015  
_I mean, you’re welcome to come to the gym with me if you want…? (Sorry for going off-topic. I want to throttle him too.)_

 **Re: Sighting: Great White Asshole** • By _Mockingbird_ , 24-June-2015  
_Don’t be sorry. I think we all need levity. But the throttling is a bit more pertinent. Should this be a formal event, or should we hold off for the best possible opportunity?_


	49. all the colors of the rainbow hidden 'neath my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various groups have their respective Fourth of July parties, from low-key celebrations to ones of questionable legality.

**HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 26-June-2015  
[sixteen pictures of queer couples kissing and rainbow flags]

 **Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _Asha_ , 26-June-2015  
_Brb, marrying my toaster_ [link]

_But seriously. Fuck yeah, if you’re crazy enough to want to get married you should be allowed!_

**Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _Mockingbird,_ 26-June-2015  
_Agreed. It’s nice that now everybody can fuck up their lives if they want._

_...I know who’s gonna be first in line._

**Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _EnPointe,_ 27-June-2015  
_Aww. I hope the secret fluffballs have a lovely ceremony._

 **Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _TrueKnight_ , 27-June-2015  
_Can’t stop smiling. What a great day._

 **Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _BoyScout,_ 28-June-2015  
_God bless America._

 **Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _WendyDarling_ , 29-June-2015  
_I am so excited for you guys!!!_

 **Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _Tinkerballs_ , 29-June-2015  
_I’m not saying I cried or anything, but. Okay, I did a little. Sorry about your shirt, Bruce._

 **Re: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HAPPY GAY WEDDINGS DAY** • By _ProfessionalStudent,_ 30-June-2015  
_It’s okay. :)_

 

* * *

 

“Ah ah ah!” Sam waves Steve’s hand away. “No one touches this grill but me.”

Natasha snorts. “I forgot how finicky you are about barbecuing.”

“You’ll thank me for it when you get a mouthful of these ribs,” retorts Sam with a grin.

“I can’t put my finger on it but that doesn’t sound right,” Sharon calls from the lawn chair where she’s currently (very safely and responsibly) sunning.

Bucky snickers. “I wasn’t gonna say it.”

“Children, I’m cooking for a bunch of children.” Sam rolls his eyes affectionately.

“That’s harsh,” Steve chides, bumping Sam’s shoulder.

“I didn’t say you aren’t _adorable,_ ” chides Sam, leaning over to kiss him. “Just that those three can’t go ten minutes without some kind of sex joke.”

“I can go a whole fifteen, thank you!” Sharon exclaims.

Natasha leans up from where she’s lounging on the grass next to Sharon’s chair to kiss the wrist that’s flopped off the side of the chair. “I’m a bad influence. Sorry, Sam.” She doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Damn right you are,” says Sam fondly. “How’s the watermelon coming, Buck?”

“Um,” replies Bucky. “The slices don’t all have to be the same size, right?”

Sam sighs. “Well, I guess not.”

“I think they’re going to taste good no matter what size they are,” Steve declares.

Natasha giggles. “You should know better than to say things like that by now.”

Steve shrugs, glancing showily between Bucky and Sam. Bucky’s trying to stifle his own giggles with his hand, mostly unsuccessfully, and even Sam is smirking.

After taking a moment to recover, Natasha sits up and, idly picking a daisy, starts to fiddle with it.

 

* * *

 

 **Fourth of July I guess** • By _FuckOff,_ 28-June-2015  
_So Gamora won’t get off my ass until I post about this, because Quill won’t get off her ass. If anybody wants to come hang out with us, we’ll be doing stuff in the parking lot behind Knowhere. Gamora says it’s a potluck. I say it might not be totally lame cause Drax says he has illegal fireworks._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _SunbeamBerry,_ 29-June-2015  
_Oh!! I am so sorry it took me this long to see this. Yes!! Please come everyone, it’s going to be so fun. I’m making confetti cupcakes._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _EnPointe_ , 29-June-2015  
_I’d come if I could, but the five of us are renting a cabin up in the mountains or something. Somewhere without fireworks. James can’t really handle them._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _PrincessDoctor_ , 30-June-2015  
_We may or may not come by, I’m not sure yet. Thank you for inviting us though!_

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _Monkey_ , 30-June-2015  
_Er, I, um. I’m not the biggest fan of fireworks myself, truth be told._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _TrueKnight,_ 1-July-2015  
_Hey, it’s okay. We can hang out at your place or something. Don’t worry, no one will make you go anywhere you don’t want to._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 1-July-2015  
_I KNOW JUST THE MOVIE TO WATCH_

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _Monkey_ , 1-July-2015  
_Oh god._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _FuckOff_ , 1-July-2015  
_Update: Gamora says there’ll be free booze. In case that changes anyone’s opinion._

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _WendyDarling_ , 2-July-2015  
_Checked with the boys and we’ll be there!_

 **Re: Fourth of July I guess** • By _FuckOff,_ 2-July-2015  
_Whoopie._

 

* * *

 

“Could you hand me the onions, darling?”

Ana smiles and does, kissing her husband on the cheek. “You’re a very good sport for doing this,” she says.

“Well, it does seem to be the expected order of the day,” he says jokingly.

“I only mean that I could have called for others to bring things,” she points out.

He shrugs. “You know I like doing things for others.”

“Oh, I do,” she replies playfully. “Even still.” The doorbell rings and immediately she hurries in the appropriate direction.

She opens the door to see Pietro and Wanda standing there, Pietro aggressively nonchalant and Wanda looking a bit nervous. “Hello,” Wanda says, trying for a smile. “We are here?”

“You’re the first ones,” Ana admits, “but that isn’t a bad thing! Please, come and make yourselves comfortable.” She ushers them toward the kitchen.

They do, acting a bit like feral cats (Wanda looking around at everything and Pietro hovering close to her). Sitting down at the kitchen table, Wanda says, “Thank you for inviting us. Er, I mean, we saw the flyer at the synagogue and Pietro thought it might be good. So yes.”

“Of course!” Ana chirps. “From what I’ve come to understand, this holiday can get rather rambunctious, and I am glad to offer an alternative for those who want it.”

Pietro nods. “Our parents used to take us elsewhere during the fireworks. I didn’t mind them as much, but she…” He glances at Wanda.

“I don’t like loud noises,” says Wanda, shrugging.

“Can’t say I blame you,” calls Jarvis through the screened back door. “Ghastly tradition, really.”

The door rings again and given that Ana has busied herself pouring lemonade, she calls, “Please come in!” Seconds later, Darcy and Ian and Jane and Thor troop in, grinning.

“We came and brought boytoys,” Darcy announces. “That’s cool, right?”

Ana laughs.

“Might I offer my assistance in preparing the food?” asks Thor.

After a moment, Jarvis calls, “Yes, actually, if you would. Thank you!” Thor grins and heads out the back door.

“Hello Wanda, Pietro,” Ian says cheerfully, waving a hand.

Wanda raises her hand in greeting. “Hello, Ian. Nice to see you outside of work.”

Pietro grins at Darcy. “Hey there.”

“‘Sup,” Darcy replies, flashing a thumbs-up that may or may not be sarcastic.

“I did not know you were Jewish,” Wanda says to Ian. “Or are you just here with her?”

Ian grins self-consciously. “Here with her,” he echoes. “I’m not really much of anything as far as all that goes, but she invited me along and it seemed pleasant.”

“Yeah,” Darcy smirks. “I’m not really sure what the boy-equivalent of a shiksa goddess is, but he fills the shoes well.”

Pietro snorts. “I see.”

“Don’t mind her nonchalance,” Jane says as she wanders toward the punch. “It’s one of the many topics she’s incapable of being serious about.”

“Oh, I was merely expressing my disappointment that such a lovely girl was taken,” replies Pietro.

Wanda rolls her eyes. “I am sorry about him. He thinks he is a ladies’ man.”

“Is all meant in fun,” replies Pietro. “I like to flirt, they like to flirt. No harm done.”

“Idle flirtation is a fun game,” Darcy shrugs cheerfully. “But I kinda promised someone that I’d try to keep it to a minimum in his presence.” She nods toward Ian, who blushes sheepishly.

Pietro nods, turning to Jane instead. “And you, do you like to flirt?”

“With my boyfriend,” Jane replies lightly, gesturing in Thor’s direction.

“And Helen and Sif, you totally hit on them sometimes,” Darcy chimes in. “But that aside, yeah, she and Thor are pretty much engaged. Kind of a thing.”

The doorbell rings again, and because Ana’s left the door unlocked it swings open after a moment and a pair of twenty-somethings enter. The girl is petite, brunette and wearing a yellow tank top and jeans; the boy is at least a foot taller than her and very muscular. “Hi!” she calls. “I hope you don’t mind us just coming in.”

“Of course not!” Ana exclaims brightly. “I’m glad you could make it, Kitty, who’s your friend?”

“This is Piotr,” says Kitty. Piotr waves and smiles shyly.

“Welcome,” Ana says. “I am going to put a sign on the door so we can move into the back and enjoy the weather. Will some of you carry the snacks?”

 

* * *

 

>> _So I’m turning the Fourth of July party into a birthday party for Skye._

_> >That’s fun! Is this a prelude to me needing to bring something?_

_> >Well, I mean, if you want to bring a present that wouldn’t go amiss, I don’t think she’s had nearly enough birthday presents in her life, but mostly I’m just letting you know because by virtue of not being Fitz or Trip you weren’t there when I had the idea and it’s polite to keep you updated._

_> >You’re sweet. I’ll see what I can come up with._

_> >Thanks, Bobbi. See you then._

 

* * *

 

“Hey guys!” calls Peter as the Helldivers approach. “We got kegs over there! Help yourselves.”

“I brought cupcakes?” murmurs Carina in response, frowning. Little good can come of kegs, in her opinion.

“Ooh, okay! Uh, over there with the rest of the food,” says Peter, gesturing vaguely toward the appropriate table.

MJ saunters over towards the keg. “Not bad, Quill.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised that we turned into party central,” Gamora says dryly from her current seat near the coolers of non-keg drinks.

“We are not in the center of the parking lot,” says Drax, furrowing his brow. “It is good that more people are arriving, though. They will be here to see my fireworks!”

“I’m looking forward to you actually setting them off,” Gamora declares. “Then maybe you’ll stop talking about them.”

Drax smiles. “Yes! Because no one will be able to hear me. They are very loud.”

Nebula rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s definitely the most interesting part.”

“When are you planning on setting them off?” Carina asks.

“When it is dark enough to see them properly, of course! I would not want the sunlight to obstruct anyone’s view.”

“No worries about that with this one!” calls Foggy as he, Matt, Karen, and another girl make their way across the parking lot. Foggy’s grinning.

“Oh, of course! My apologies, Matt.” Drax claps Matt on the arm. “How are your battle wounds healing?”

Matt chuckles, doing his best not to stagger when Drax’s hand makes contact. “Just scratches, really.”

The other girl scoffs. “You dislocated your shoulder and gave yourself a concussion again. I’d tell you to stop, except you wouldn’t listen anyway.”

“That’s our Matt,” replies Foggy cheerfully. “Boneheaded to the last.”

“Since these are apparently your guests, would you make the introductions?” Gamora says dryly.

Drax grins. “Of course! This is Matthew Murdock, one of my top opponents. He has brought his friends along. I have only met them once.”

“Foggy,” says Foggy helpfully. “Karen, and Claire.” He gestures to each girl in turn. “Roommates and friend with benefits, respectively.”

“Which one is which?” asks Nebula, raising an eyebrow. “For all we know, _you’re_ the fuckbuddy.”

Matt chuckles. “Not quite. Karen and Foggy are my roommates, and Claire and I have...an arrangement.”

“You’re making it sound weird,” scoffs Claire. “It’s not weird.”

“Nah, that just sounds very formal,” Karen declares, trying not to laugh.

“Whatever,” says Nebula, rolling her eyes.

Shyly, Carina lifts her hand. “Hey, Karen,” she says. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“Aw, of course!” Karen exclaims. “Did you make good on that cupcake promise?”

Carina nods eagerly, waving the other girl over toward the refreshments.

Nebula, meanwhile, is staring at Matt. “Uh, what exactly _do_ you do at parties like this?”

That makes Matt laugh. “I mainly eavesdrop,” he admits. “Karen got the idea to come to this, and I figured it would be nicer than sitting in the house by myself with earplugs in.”

Nebula nods. “Works.”

Peter ambles over to inspect the newcomers. When he spots Karen, he grins and says, “Well, hey there! Is it true that blondes have more fun?”

Karen has to work to keep from snorting. “I guess it depends on the blonde,” she says.

 

* * *

 

Three minutes after the time Skye was told to arrive at the apartment, the doorbell rings, and immediately Jemma yelps, “Act natural!” She waits for Fitz and Trip to scramble onto the couch (scramble being her agitated description, as they do no such thing) before calling out, “It’s open, come in!”

It’s not Skye, though, it’s Bobbi, who casually hangs her bag on the coatrack before she really takes in the sight of Fitz and Trip snuggling and Jemma sitting on the edge of her seat all eager. And she bursts out laughing.

“Are you going for a surprise thing? Because let me tell you, it’s not quite there,” she admits.

Jemma pouts. “I just want to make it nice for her,” she mumbles.

“You’ve been fussing at every little thing the entire time,” says Fitz, not unkindly. “It’ll be fine, Jem. She’ll be happy. She’ll make so much noise she’ll blow out my eardrums or something.”

Jemma makes the mistake of looking at Bobbi when that’s said and, based on her expression of complete raunchy amusement, nearly starts laughing herself. “I still just want… oh you know me, I want perfection,” she admits.

“Yeah,” Trip says, smiling. “Promise she’s gonna love it no matter what.”

The doorbell rings again and Jemma visibly tries to relax herself before calling, “Come in!”

Skye bounds in, grinning. “You guys ready for _Pacific Rim_ and explosions?”

“I think there’s something you should take care of first,” Bobbi says playfully.

“Huh?”

Bobbi nods toward the coffee table, where sits a painstakingly detailed homemade cake.

“Oh my god, did you make me a cake?” Skye turns to Jemma.

Jemma nods, too afraid to say anything.

Skye goes over to look at it. “Oh my _god,_ Jemma. No one’s ever made me a cake before.”

“You like it?” Jemma asks in the smallest voice possible.

Skye’s a little choked up when she says, “Yeah, yeah I really do. Thank you, Jemma. It’s the best present ever.”

Jemma falters for a second, not sure exactly what to do, and when she finally speaks, all that comes out is, “Trip helped.”

Skye comes over to throw her arms around Jemma and then looks over at Trip. “Thank you so much, guys, this is…”

Jemma nuzzles into Skye immediately, holding her close as she can. “I wanted it to be lovely for you,” she explains. “Since…”

“It is, it really is. You’re the best,” murmurs Skye. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jemma whispers. “There are presents, too.”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna spoil me,” says Skye, only half-joking. “Hi Bobbi!”

“Hey,” Bobbi nods. “You wanna start with mine? I’m a lazyass and didn’t wrap it or anything, but.”

“Shit, I don’t care!” Skye grins. “Thank you.”

Bobbi strides over to grab the plastic package out of her purse and hands it over smugly. “I figured you might appreciate this,” she says.

Skye yelps. “Mara Jade?! Where did you even find this?”

“The internet, with some perseverance,” Bobbi shrugs cheerfully.

Standing on her toes, Skye leans over to envelop Bobbi in a hug too. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Bobbi grins.

 

* * *

 

_> >Hey, Melinda, what are you up to today?_

_> >Not much. This holiday runs a little loud for my tastes. You?_

_> >The guys are dragging me out to a bar before going to watch fireworks. Pretty standard. We’ll be lucky if Fandral can get through the night without getting blackout drunk._

_> >I did that once on the Fourth. Big mistake. My ex-fiancé apparently spent the whole night watching me like a hawk to make sure I didn’t light anything on fire._

_> >Oh my god. I...didn’t know you were engaged._

_> >It was years ago. His name was Andrew. He’s a good man, but we drifted apart. Anyway. You said you’re going to a bar?_

_> >Yeah, probably one of the shitty ones around town. Fandral and Volstagg like them. Why?_

_> >Just thinking. I know a few places that don’t get too loud, I might hide out in one of them. You have fun. _

_> >Thanks! You too. :)_

 

* * *

 

Fandral is just starting to get to his “drunk bluster” stage, and Volstagg and Hogun are engaged in a spirited debate about the merits of _Adventure Time_ versus _Steven Universe,_ so Sif rolls her eyes and checks her phone. There’s a text from Melinda.

_> >Well, this bar is mostly quiet. At least it’s in a part of town nobody would be setting off fireworks in._

Sif chuckles and types a message.

_> >That’s something! We ended up in a more out-of-the-way place than I thought. There are people here, but nobody’s being obnoxious yet. They’re kind of ignoring me though. I wish you were here to talk to._

She takes a swig of her beer immediately after hitting “send,” because desperate much? But it could be meant in a platonic way. Probably.

After an agonizing three minutes, Melinda texts back.

_> >I like drinking alone, but that’d be nice. _

Sif makes a noise not unlike a dying frog and immediately texts Thor.

>> _EMERGENCY. Melinda is texting me that she thinks it’d be nice to be drinking with me!!_

It takes him seven minutes to respond, but finally she gets an answer.

>> _Can you not ask her which establishment she is reveling at?_

_> >I guess I could…_

_> >Have courage, Sif. Melinda is a good woman who will understand, if not reciprocate, your feelings._

Sif takes a deep breath and another long drink, and then texts Melinda.

>> _What bar are you at? I might be able to swing by._

_> >The White Lotus, on Fraction and Ellis._

At that, Sif almost drops her phone. Then she glances around the bar, sure she must have read it wrong, or that Melinda’s made a mistake.

_> >Um. I think we might be at the same bar._

Sif slides off her barstool and mutters something to her friends (Hogun is listening and nods, but the other two are too distracted to acknowledge her) before going to look for Melinda.

After a couple of futile minutes of wandering, her phone buzzes again.

_> >Well, fuck me sideways. I’m in the back corner near the neon sign._

It’s not a huge bar, so she’s able to find the table quickly. Melinda’s nursing her own drink, smirking. “Of all the gin joints of all the towns in the world…” she quips.

Chuckling, Sif slides in across from her. “How’s your night been?” Then she feels like an idiot because they were just texting about that, but it’s too late now.

“Quiet. Had one guy come over. He left very quickly.” Melinda smiles in that way she has that makes the other person not want to ask questions. “It’s nicer having you here, though.”

Sif feels her eyes widen. “Thank you,” she says shyly. “I think so too. Um, being with you, I mean, not…”

“I know,” says Melinda kindly.

 

* * *

 

“I wish it was possible to watch fireworks on TV, and therefore be able to turn the volume off, without having to hear them outside anyway,” Victoria grumbles.

Isabelle chuckles. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Although I like them, personally. My sister and I used to have competitions to see who could set off the loudest one.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “I bet you loved the screaming ones, those horrible wailers.”

“Of course! I’d win with them,” replies Isabelle with a grin. “But I’m sorry they bother you.”

“They’re not my favorite thing,” Victoria agrees. “Like someone synthesized the noisiest possible baby and then made it ten times even more annoying.”

“You’re very eloquent,” teases Isabelle. “Would kisses help?”

“Please?” Victoria says like it’s some great imposition she’s asking for.

Isabelle smirks and leans over. “Of course,” she murmurs against Victoria’s lips before kissing her deeply.

Victoria moans, pulling Isabelle on top of her and holding her alarmingly close. There’s nothing else that needs said just yet, not when there’s kissing to do and closeness to savor.

 

* * *

 

“Did you like your present?” Sam is grinning.

“I don’t know where you managed to find that monstrosity,” Steve retorts, though he looks like he’s about to laugh.

“Amazon, baby,” laughs Sam. “Doesn’t everyone need a button up covered in the American flag?”

“Nobody needs that,” Steve corrects.

Bucky’s giggling. “He didn’t tell me what he got you until I’d already bought the tiara.”

“Someday my birthday is going to stop amusing you idiots,” Steve says, and those are fighting words, which is appropriate given that this isn’t exactly a new routine.

“Nope,” says Sam cheerfully. “Never happen. You’re getting terrible patriotic shit until the end.”

“Fine,” Steve groans, but given the way he swings around to plant a kiss on Sam’s cheek, then Bucky’s, he’s clearly not too upset.

Meanwhile, Natasha pokes Sharon (who is stretched out next to her and snoring softly) in the arm. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” she murmurs.

“What?” Sharon asks, halfway moaning the word.

“Got a present for you.” Natasha leans over to gently kiss her on the lips. “Not that, I just wanted to do that.”

“Mm, gosh,” Sharon coos, though she doesn’t exactly stir from her position.

“So I made you a ring.” Natasha holds out a daisy ring, made of several braided together. “I’m not really a marriage kind of person, but it seemed appropriate.”

Appropriate to the day, appropriate to the arrangement, appropriate to the country’s recent decision. It doesn’t matter. Sharon grins as she takes the ring and slips it on her finger. “I think it’s lovely,” she declares.

“Hey, what gives?” asks Bucky indignantly, but he’s grinning. “I want a daisy ring too!”

“Oh, do you?” Natasha smirks. “The rest of you boys wanna get in on this too, while I’m at it?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Steve says.

“Yeah, make me one too!” chimes in Sam.

“Alright, gimme a few minutes,” replies Natasha with a laugh. “That one took me forever.”

 

* * *

 

>> _Sif? Is it going well? I don’t wish to worry about you but you have not replied for many minutes._

_> >Sorry. Turns out she was at the same bar. Of all the coincidences…_

_> >That is wonderful! But why are you talking to me rather than with your lady?_

_> >She’s not my lady, you’re ridiculous, and she insisted on buying me a drink, so she’s off doing that._

_> >Well! Enjoy that, my friend. Perhaps this is a sign for you to tell her tonight._

_> >Whatever you say, Thor. Oops, she’s coming back, I’ll see you later._

 

* * *

 

Everyone is sitting in folding chairs in the Jarvis’ backyard, eating barbecue and talking amongst themselves quietly. Wanda’s observing what she can in the fading daylight. Pietro’s explaining the origin of their cat Cardboard Box’s name to a perplexed Piotr (“he was born in a cardboard box, you see,” the logic of which makes perfect sense to Wanda). Sarah, who explained earlier that she is Vietnamese, from Canada, and not Jewish, but was invited anyhow, is kissing her boyfriend (this seems like an odd setting to engage in public displays of affection). And Darcy, who’s long since finished her food, is playing with...what seems to be a stick with fire on the end of it.

“What’s that?” she asks.

It takes Darcy a moment to notice she’s being questioned, but when she does she’s all smiles. “Sparklers!” she exclaims. “Kind of the coolest thing ever.”

“Sparklers?” Wanda tilts her head. “What are they for?”

“Mostly just for fun,” Darcy shrugs. “You can twirl around with them and stuff. Kinda one of the closest things boring regular people can get to magic.”

Wanda can’t help but be interested. “I thought all fireworks were loud and frightening. May I…?”

“No! These ones are totally chill,” Darcy says, reaching for the box and lighting one by touching it to hers before handing it over. “And you can - _Jane_! Come here!”

It takes a minute because Jane has to detach from Thor and wander over, slightly tipsy, but when she sees Darcy’s sparkler she knows what she’s here to do. “Want me to just take them at random?” she asks, getting her camera out.

“Go for it,” Darcy chirps, beginning to wave her sparkler through the air as Jane photographs. This keeps up for a minute and then as soon as she stops she says, “Okay, c’mere.”

Wanda does, holding her hand out to take it. “And we just...move it around?”

“Sorta, yeah,” Darcy agrees. “The technical stuff is all on the photographer’s end. You just have to sit back, or, y’know, dance around and let it happen.”

Wanda nods, starting to move it around while making a concentrating face. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “If they were all like this, I would like this holiday more.”

“Aw,” Darcy and Jane both say, because it sounds like it should be the time for that.

“Well, not all of us need to go around exploding things to have a good time,” Jane declares resolutely. “Just hanging out, quietly, can be enough.”

“Yeah, Jane’s one to talk, she’d rather every holiday be spent sitting around politely discussing issues of the day in their inside voices,” Darcy jokes. “But she does have a point.”

Chuckling, Wanda says, “Yes, this is much nicer. Our parents would usually take Pietro and I to somewhere secluded for the evening. I find fireworks upsetting.”

Jane nods. “They’d be better if there wasn’t quite as much noise,” she agrees. “I don’t mind them, but I don’t really need them. But people like flashy stuff, I guess?”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t always consider themselves a people,” Darcy teases. “I admit that’s part of the appeal of this,” and she nods to the sparklers, “but I get your point.”

“Pietro!” calls Wanda. “Come and play with the sparklers! You’d like them, you can make interesting shapes with them. They are like portable fire.”

 

* * *

 

>> _And every time one of them went off Fitz would get all jumpy and squeeze onto Trip. He was practically sitting in his lap by the end._

>> _Aww, poor little guy. We’ve been lucky, the only ones we’ve seen tonight have been far enough away that they’re not loud. Sam’s building the fire for s’mores right now._

_> >That sounds nice. We’ve been gorging ourselves on confetti-flavored Jaeger cake._

_> >That’s a weird phrase out of context. Must be good, though. Also I made them all daisy rings earlier and then James made me a crown. _[attached picture]

_> >You know, it really is. That applies to both statements. And holy shit, that’s precious._

>> _Thanks. :) They’re sweet. I assume Skye’s having a good birthday party then?_

_> >Yeah. It’s also fairly precious. They all take good care of each other._

_> >Adorable. We’ve been spoiling Steve. Patriotic presents out the ass. Anyway. I’ll let you get back to it._

_> >Oh, we’re just watching the movie now, there’s a lot of snuggling, I have a feeling I’m going to wind up being someone’s pillow. You know. But hey, if I’m keeping you from similar snuggles._

_> >As soon as Sam gets the fire going, I’ll probably disappear, but right now he’s just ineffectually trying to get the kindling to burn and cursing. Also, Morse, are you seriously trying to seduce both of them? Cradle-robber._

_> >I’m trying no such thing! They may both be trying to seduce me sometimes, but whatever._

_> >Whatever you say. ;) Oh, Sam’s got it going now. I’ll talk to you later? Happy 4th._

_> >You too. Send my best regards._

 

* * *

 

“Awww,” murmurs Skye, glancing over at where Trip and Fitz are tangled up together sleeping (Fitz is quietly snoring). “They’re too damn cute for their own good.”

“They are alarmingly endearing,” Bobbi agrees, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

“If you told Fitz a year ago he’d be snuggling in his sleep with the prettiest black boy he wouldn’t’ve believed you,” Jemma mumbles into Skye’s lap. “I’m glad he’d’ve been wrong.”

Skye reaches to pet Jemma’s hair. “Me too. You sleepy too? We’re not even to Otachi yet, honey.”

“I’m just comfy,” Jemma insists. “This’s nice. The boys having the slumber and the girls having the party.”

“It is,” agrees Skye. “Thank you for all this. It’s...it’s really great. And thanks for coming, Bobbi,” she says, tilting her head up to look Bobbi in the face (not the easiest feat since she’s leaning on Bobbi’s shoulder but she feels like it’s important).

“Of course,” Bobbi exclaims. “It was fun and it was adorable. And hey, you’re actually aware of who Mara Jade is, so you were fun to shop for.”

“‘Course. Thanks for lending me the books, by the way,” says Skye. “I couldn’t find those ones and it was driving me nuts.”

“Conveniently, I have at some point in my life been able to find all of the ones,” Bobbi declares smugly. “Any time you need any of that stuff.”

Skye makes a noise that is probably a bit too sexual (she’s going to blame it on the booze she had earlier). “You’re so hot,” she mumbles.

Bobbi totally catches that, of course, and Jemma does too, cooing, “You’re drinky.”

“Maybe,” says Skye playfully. “Maybe I think so anyway.”

“Well, maybe we both think so, but that doesn’t mean you’re not drinky,” Jemma mumbles.

Bobbi can’t help it, she snorts with laughter. She’s pretty sure she wasn’t actually supposed to be present for this conversation, in the grand scheme of things, but she can’t say any of it is at all shocking to her.

“Yeah, well, I have _two_ hot girls touching me. Best birthday ever,” says Skye, nuzzling against Bobbi.

 

* * *

 

_> >Hey, thanks for tonight. It was really nice._

_> >You’re welcome! I had a great time walking with you. Thanks for the drink, too._

_> >Please, Sif. It was the least I could do. I’ll see you at work tomorrow._

_> >Yeah! Yeah, see you then. Good night._

_> >Night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's [shirt](http://www.jedlickas.com/static/store_images/si/381_large.jpg) and [tiara](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/81V%2BCq9rAoL._SX450_.jpg).


	50. these cracks that I show as I'm watching you go aren't tearing me apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobbi plans a fashion show in the mall to appease her boss, and tries to keep the chaos to a minimum. Meanwhile, her friends continue to be uneasy about Kara's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a verbally abusive/controlling relationship.

**Re: Fashion Show Models Wanted! •** _Mockingbird_ , 6-July-2015  
_All right, you guys, it’s solidified! The lineup for the fashion show is as follows._

 _Bridesmaids:_  
Sif  
Carina

_Mother of the Bride:  
Pepper (thanks Pepper, you’re such a pal)_

_Lingerie:  
Lorelei (thanks for getting her involved, Raina, she’s being weirdly cooperative about it)_

_Brides:_  
_Maria (thanks for recruiting her, Maya)_  
_Darcy_  
_Sharon_  
_Tasha_  
_Raina_  
_Karen_

 _Grooms and groomsmen:_  
_Steve_  
_Thor (thanks for recruiting him, Sif)_  
_Rhodey (thanks for recruiting him, Pepper)_  
_Mack (thanks for playing along, friend :3)_

_Everyone just be present the day of at least an hour before showtime, all right? Thank you all so much, it’s ridiculously helpful and saves the higher-ups time and money (because the gift cards you all expect are nothing compared to model fees)._

**Re: Fashion Show Models Wanted! •** _EnPointe_ , 6-July-2015  
_Sure thing, Morse. It’s gonna be fun. :)_

 

* * *

 

“And... _what_ is it you’re doing tonight?” Irani is making the sort of face she might make if Karen had just told her she’s planning on becoming a penguin.

“Oh, uh, Bobbi from David’s Bridal, her managers wanted her to organize a fashion show of some of their dresses and suits and whatever,” Karen explains. “Usin’ people from the mall saves on models, and then there’s, what’d she say, a chance that we’ll actually look like a variety of people. Of course, I’m pretty sure I got recruited ‘cause I’m tall, but still.”

Irani nods slowly. “I see. It’s logical, I suppose. And will you be participating as well?” she asks Kara.

Shyly, Kara shakes her head. “Nah, I… I’m not good at crowds, anyway,” she says, focusing on apparently reorganizing the contents of her purse.

“Kara, you ready to go?” Ward asks, appearing at the door.

Kara startles, then seems to plaster on a smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we were just talking,” she says.

“About what?”

“Oh, Bobbi from downstairs put together a fashion show, I guess,” Kara murmurs. “It sounds kind of fun, if. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Hm,” says Ward. “Well, are you gonna be in it?”

Kara shakes her head. “I’m just finding out about it,” she says.

“Well, that’s probably just as well. I don’t think she’d ask you, cause, y’know.” Ward lets the uncomfortable silence stand for a moment before he gestures impatiently. “Let’s go.”

Kara flinches, and it’s subtle, but it’s still enough that Karen sees it. “I’d better get moving too,” she declares. “Where are you guys parked?”

“Oh, we’re over at IKEA,” replies Ward, looking mildly confused as to why Karen’s asking.

“Oh! Cool,” Karen says cheerfully. “I was gonna catch the bus. I’ll walk over there with you.”

Ward frowns just slightly, but then shrugs and begins to herd Kara out of the office. Karen waves once at Irani before she follows along, chattering brightly about the most inconsequential things she can think of. Between what she’s just witnessed and what she’s heard rumors of on their secret internet (Carina invited her a few weeks ago after discovering their mutual affinity for post-terrible day milkshakes) she feels like it’s the right thing to do, even though she’s technically parked on the top level of the parking garage.

Ward’s not entirely sure what this girl’s doing or why she’s following them, chattering like a starling, but he’s not thrilled about it. Kara making friends is one thing, but this girl...she seems nosy in a way he doesn’t like. He recognizes her type, the do-gooders, the ones who get off on being sanctimonious and telling others what to do. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on her and discourage Kara from talking to her.

He interrupts the girl mid-word when they arrive at his car. “Alright, well, we’ve gotta go now,” he says, opening the door and nudging Kara into the front seat.

“Bye, Karen,” Kara says softly as the door shuts.

“Bye, Kara,” Karen says through the shut door. Slowly, she makes her way over to the bus stop, where she sits and waits a full four minutes after she sees Ward’s car drive off to hurry back across the street to her car, texting Carina.

>> _Hey, can you let Bobbi know I’m gonna be a little late? Something came up._

 

* * *

 

Natasha nips at Sharon’s neck, enjoying the little mewling sounds she makes. “You’re hot,” she murmurs.

“I feel ridiculous,” Sharon replies self-consciously, fussing with her hairspray-crunchy hair, “but I’m glad it does something for you.”

“It really does,” hums Natasha, leaning around to kiss her cheek and then tilt Sharon’s head for a kiss on the lips.

“Shit,” Sharon breathes, slipping a hand under the satin of Natasha’s dressing gown to pull her closer still.

Natasha moans and presses against Sharon. “How much time do we have before showtime?” she asks.

They’re interrupted by a spray of water barely skimming their heads to splatter against the mirror. “Not long enough to sneak off for a quick fuck, animals,” Bobbi chirps.

That makes Natasha laugh against Sharon’s lips. “Aw, you just gotta ruin our fun.”

“Shit, I’m sorry I’m late!” Karen shouts, running into the room with an open lipstick in her hand. “Something came up, I had to take care of it…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bobbi says kindly. “Your dress is on the rack, labeled with your name. If you need help doing hair, Pepper or Lorelei can give you a hand once they’re done.”

Lorelei, currently working a complicated and very certain web of braids in Carina’s hair (given the halter dress she's been assigned it seemed necessary), smirks. “Promise I only pull hair if you’re into that,” she says, causing Carina and Raina to laugh (Carina nervously, like she’s afraid to, and Raina secretively).

Sif snorts, mostly to herself. “That’s not quite how I remember it going,” she murmurs.

“Cool,” Karen murmurs very faintly, sliding into an empty chair and waving sheepishly at her nearest neighbor (Maria).

Maria smiles back, though it’s a bit strained. This really isn’t her usual environment and she’s less than comfortable (the last time she’d worn a dress was at Patrick’s wedding, or maybe Aly’s christening), but she promised Maya. “So…” she says awkwardly. “How’s admin treating you?”

“It’s, uh, not bad,” Karen exclaims. “Pretty casual most of the time. Which I guess security… kinda isn’t.”

Chuckling, Maria shakes her head. “I mean, mostly it’s just escorting shoplifters and drunk idiots out the front doors. Nothing compared to being on the street. But it’s fine.”

“The street?” Karen echoes.

“Oh, I forgot you’re new. Sorry. I used to be a real cop, and then I busted up my leg and when they let me out of therapy, I ended up here.”

“Oh my gosh,” Karen says, not bothering to explain that she’s not new in the technical sense since she might as well be for all the socializing she does. “That’s so intense, wow. You must be a real badass, huh?”

“I guess,” replies Maria with a smirk. “I just do my job, really. Sometimes it involves tasing assholes, that’s always fun.”

“I bet,” Karen declares. “So that post said Maya got you to do this? Are you two, like…?”

“No! Um, I mean, we’re friends.” Maria feels guilty for sounding like she’s offended by the idea. She’s not, not at all. “She’s very persuasive, is all. She helped me out awhile back, and I figured helping her friend out with this was the least I could do. I’ve, uh, I’ve got someone else, sort of. Maybe.”

Karen nods. “Gotcha,” she says, even though she doesn’t quite. “Well, that’s good of you, then.”

Maria shrugs. “‘Spose so. How’d you get roped into this?”

“I’m tall, mostly,” Karen replies self-effacingly. “You’ve gotta have at least some tall girls in the fashion show.”

“Fair,” Maria nods. “At least you _look_ like a model. Me…” She gestures to herself vaguely. “Not so much.”

“Aw, I think you look nice!” Karen exclaims, finding it easier than addressing the compliment.

Maria snorts. “You’re sweet. I feel ridiculous.” She looks down at the frilly, girly, _decidedly_ unlike her dress she’s currently wearing. “I haven’t worn a dress like this since I was three and my mother made me.”

“Check it out, guys,” Darcy exclaims, pulling an overlarge plastic ring from her purse and sliding it on her finger. “I got my very own pizza ring!” Those who get the joke do, of course, laugh, but it’s legitimately nervewracking that she keeps hamming it up and taking selfies with it until Bobbi enters and glares her down.

“Get that plastic piece of junk off your finger, Lewis,” she hisses.

Darcy’s eyes go wide before she salutes. “Yes, ma’am,” she says faintly, stowing the toy.

“Okay, you guys, places!” Bobbi shouts, turning to the others and brandishing her clipboard.

“Why aren’t you participating in this circus again?” asks Natasha, smirking.

“I am involved,” Bobbi retorts. “I’m organizing you assholes and appeasing my boss.”

Natasha doesn’t have a comeback to that, so she just shrugs and follows Bobbi’s order.

“All right, so we’ll be starting with Pepper,” Bobbi barks, nodding for Pepper to start the line. “Then Sif, then Carina, then we’re gonna have some pairs. Steve and Sharon, Natasha and Thor, then Darcy by yourself -”

“Not that I’m super jazzed about marriage but isn’t it kind of telling having the so-called plus size bride both by herself and totally covered up?” Darcy asks.

“I didn’t dictate the latter, and as for the former, I figure you’re a big enough showoff to carry your own walk down the runway,” Bobbi declares. Once Darcy nods, she continues. “Maria and Mack, then Karen and Rhodey, then Lorelei -”

“Save the good stuff for the end of the night,” Lorelei drawls.

“And finishing up with Raina,” Bobbi says.

“Figures her dress would be covered in flowers here too,” Maria mutters to Mack, who’s come up to stand next to her. He chuckles and nods.

“I’m not asking you guys to do ridiculous _Project Runway_ struts or anything,” Bobbi adds, “but at least try to look a little bit professional? For the couples, I’d like if you could walk down together, then let the so-called bride take a twirl.”

Sif comments, “But none of the rest of us have ever been married…”

Bobbi makes a noise in the back of her throat that could be mistaken for a growl and glares very angrily at her clipboard for exactly ten seconds before brightly announcing, “I’m going to go out and introduce each dress, and when you hear yours being called, count to three and take the stage. Got it?”

There’s a chorus of agreement. Natasha waits for Bobbi to leave the room before sneaking forward to plant another kiss on Sharon.

“I know what you’re up to, Romanov,” Bobbi shouts over her shoulder.

Moments later, they can hear a round of applause from the crowd, and softly Carina says, “Oh my. That sounds like a lot of people.”

Sif smiles over at her. “It’ll be fun! We’re wearing ridiculous dresses and acting like models. I haven’t ever done anything like this in my life, it’ll be hilarious.”

Anxiously, Carina twists the absurdly gem-encrusted bracelet around her wrist. “Everyone’s going to be looking and suddenly I’m realizing what a horrible idea it is.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Sharon says. “Did your girlfriend come to watch?”

Carina nods, looking horrified.

“So just focus on her,” Sharon suggests.

“She’s going to be making silly faces, I bet,” Carina frets.

“I have heard that to imagine the audience in their undergarments will relax you!” chimes in Thor. “Although I cannot see the usefulness of this, myself.”

“I really can’t either,” Carina mumbles, blushing furiously.

“It’s going to be over soon,” Steve offers, smiling reassuringly. “Very soon. You’re right at the beginning, it’ll be all right.”

Sharon squeezes his hand fondly. “You’re good at this,” she whispers in his ear.

They hear Bobbi utter the words “mother of the bride” and Pepper turns around with an uncharacteristically goofy grin. “Wish me luck?”

“Knock ‘em dead,” says Rhodey with a fond smile. “I told Tony he’s not allowed to say shit unless it’s respectful and nice.”

“Gentlemanly as ever,” Pepper croons, stepping out onto runway with her head held high.

Sif listens to Bobbi reading the description of her extremely feminine dress and has to work to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter. The whole thing is pretty much the best joke: tomboy Sif in the girliest bridesmaid dress. Bobbi uses the word “lace” about five times and “elegant” and “feminine” and basically Sif would never have been caught dead in this dress under ordinary circumstances. But she trots out onto the stage obligingly and strikes a pose as best she can.

In the audience, Melinda, who is sitting next to Anne Weaver, raises her eyebrows. “That’s a different look for her,” she says quietly.

Anne just barely smirks. “It’s certainly something, isn’t it?” she replies.

“It is.” Melinda hasn’t stopped staring at Sif, even (especially?) when Sif trips over her own heel and, grinning, manages to right herself and practically gallop offstage.

“Do I detect a hint of interest?” Anne asks softly, still with that hint of amusement.

Melinda’s quiet for a long moment. “Do you really think I’m going to give you a straight answer?” she says, flashing Anne a smirk of her own.

“You wouldn’t be you if you did,” Anne declares.

“Damn right.”

By the time Carina steps onto the stage, she’s managing to at least fake confidence, or fake a cartoon version of confidence (straight spine, lifted chin). There’s much less copy about her dress, just a few details (available in 38 colors, though hers is a pale yellow that she knows makes her look even more like a My Little Pony; “crinkle chiffon”; “a back streamer for added drama”), so she can get on and off the catwalk in a fair amount of time.

Nebula has been bored out of her skull prior to this (you’ve seen one fancy dress, you’ve seen ‘em all) and she’s almost considering just leaving when Carina comes out. And honestly, she’s so used to seeing her girlfriend wearing normal human clothes that she almost doesn’t recognize her. _Shit._

“You did her up nice,” Raina whispers to Lorelei, smirking. “Like she’s a grown-up Myrcella in her punk phase.”

“You are so weird,” Lorelei says fondly, even though that’s sort of what she was going for.

Meanwhile, Nebula’s suddenly looking forward to the end of the damn show even more. Her girlfriend needs kisses.

Steve and Sharon are next, arm in arm, and they’re greeted with snickers and wolf whistles from Bucky and Sam in the audience. Sharon has to work to keep from rolling her eyes, Steve smiles that smile that simultaneously means he’s amused and vaguely disappointed, and they manage to look almost alarmingly normal in spite of it all.

“Well, don’t they just look adorably heterosexual,” giggles Bucky.

“The American Dream,” agrees Sam, chortling.

“We’re going to get them for mocking us, right?” Sharon asks through her smile.

“What makes you so sure they’re doing that?” Steve replies.

“Because they wouldn’t be them if they didn’t,” Sharon points out.

Natasha and Thor make for a strange pair, given that he’s at least a foot taller than she is, but they play their roles well. When Natasha does her twirl (making a face that anyone who knows her well would recognize as her “dear god this is idiotic” face), Sam and Bucky both wolf whistle again. She restrains herself from cheerfully flipping them off.

“Good grief,” Jane mutters to Maya, shamelessly ogling her boyfriend.

“He wears it well,” Maya agrees casually.

Darcy steps out next, holding her skirt like a Disney princess and attempting to glide down the catwalk as elegantly as possible. It may or may not look ridiculous, but she doesn’t really care. She’s dressed like a Barbie on top of a cake, it’s ridiculous.

Rogue nudges Nebula and murmurs, “Goddamn, she’s lookin’ good. Though those sleeves ain’t doin’ her any favors. Or the entire top half, really. I’d rather rip it off and look at what’s underneath.”

“Gross,” says Nebula, without any real bite. “Keep your sexual exploits to yourself. You horny people are weird.”

Maria comes out on Mack’s arm, just barely managing to keep it together. They’d been bantering about how funny it was the two gayest participants got paired up together, and now she’s feeling way more at ease, but she’s a little afraid of what Bobbi might do if she fucks this up.

“Oh,” Maya whispers. “Shit.”

Jane tilts her head. “Yeah, that dress isn’t great,” she agrees.

“No, but - I dunno, Maria looks…”

Jane nods sympathetically.

Just before their cue, Rhodey offers Karen his arm and smiles. “Sorry if this is weird, since we don’t know each other and all. Promise I’ll do my best to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Thanks,” Karen murmurs, taken aback slightly. “That’s...I mean, that’s nice to hear.”

Rhodey nods. “I’ve never done anything like this either. It’s weird but it might be fun. Ready?”

“Ready,” Karen agrees, grinning.

Their time on the catwalk is short, parading as Bobbi describes the “Coveted Bridal Style” and the “detachable split-front A-line overskirt with tie sash,” the latter of which Karen demonstrates by pulling the sash and stepping out of the overskirt with the best flourish she can manage (Rhodey hears Tony snickering and rolls his eyes), but it’s long enough that by the time they get backstage again Karen is giggling nervously.

“Not half bad,” Lorelei croons as she saunters past and makes her entrance. She can feel the whispers (“of course _she_ models the wedding night underwear,” etcetera) but she doesn’t care. This is old hat for her. Catwalks and lingerie and the intermittent flash photo? Normal.

She plants one on Raina when she steps backstage, grinning, and Raina lowers her eyes bashfully and murmurs something about “not in front of the children, silly,” but it all goes fast enough that there’s not time for anyone else to analyze it. Raina’s flower dress is a limited edition, which is why she’s closing the show, and she’s not exactly shy or subtle about playing it up. She’s not new to modeling, either, and Clint elbows the closest person to him (it happens to be Hogun) and murmurs, “How the fuck does she know how to model?” Hogun chuckles and doesn’t answer.

The models all do one final loop at the end of the show, to polite applause, and then just like that it’s over and Bobbi is backstage shouting, “Dresses on the rack as nice as you found them and don’t forget to get me your gift card orders by the end of the week!”

After the show’s over, most of the crowd starts to thin out. The ones that stay are there to greet the models, like Sam and Bucky (who have made a ridiculous cardboard sign that says HOTTIES WANTED and are waving it around). Natasha snorts when she spots them, and is about to follow Sharon and Steve out to meet their boys when she notices Karen perched on a folding chair, looking upset.

She’s no counselor, but she doesn’t feel right leaving after that, so she walks over and murmurs, “You okay?”

Karen flinches out of surprise. “Yeah, no, I’m just… I got carried away thinkin’,” she shrugs.

“Must be a pretty serious subject,” says Natasha, trying to come across as casual. “You look worried.”

“It’s kinda involved,” Karen demurs.

“I got time, if you wanna talk.” Natasha pulls another folding chair over and sits on it. “I’m no therapist, but you seem like the talking through your troubles type.”

“Sometimes, I guess,” Karen shrugs. “Thing is, it’s not really my troubles I keep going over. I - you know, uh, you at least know _about_ the stuff goin’ on with Kara?”

Natasha shrugs. “I’ve heard things. What do you know about it?”

“Well, I work with Kara, right?” Karen shakes her head. “I mean directly. And she’s been really quiet, really private since she moved here. Then one day she tells me she’s got this date.”

“Uh huh.” Bucky’s told her about how in therapy, the neutral filler words let the speaker feel like they’re being heard and understood. Not that Natasha has really had cause to use that, before now.

“So at first I’m thinkin’ great! I’m really glad she’s found someone she’s comfortable with,” Karen continues. “And then I start hearin’ the rumors. I saw that shit Ward did to Raina, I heard about whatever went down in the corridor. But, I dunno, I wanna think well of her choices, so I tried to tell myself that maybe… I dunno. Some bull about how he’s different this time. I didn’t wanna face up to the fact that he could be really bad for her.”

Natasha nods. “Is that the only thing that’s got you worried?”

“He came in to pick her up today,” Karen says. “And it’s the creepiest kinda subtle stuff he does, but he was doin’ it.  Guiding her around and - he said right to her that she hadn’t been asked to do the fashion show ‘cause of her face.”

Grimacing, Natasha replies, “That doesn’t surprise me at all. I could tail him and beat the shit out of him sometime.” She’s joking, but barely.

“Well, I… probably shouldn’t condone that officially,” Karen mumbles, “and anyway, now that I’m thinkin’ about it I oughta ask you if you have any other ideas? I don’t wanna get her any more hurt than she already has been.”

Natasha’s quiet a moment. Violence and mind games are her go-to reactions, and she doesn’t think the latter will be helpful here. “I’ll talk to my people about it,” she says. “Steve might have some good ideas.”

"Yeah?” Karen murmurs, sounding hopeful. “That’d be really cool of you.”

“Yeah. Some of us have prior experience with Hydra.” Natasha smirks. “Might be helpful somehow.”

“Might be,” Karen says. “Thanks, Natasha.”

“Sure.” Natasha tries for a smile. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Karen agrees. “I’m around. Not too mysterious to track down.”

That makes Natasha laugh. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do, Karen.”

 

* * *

 

“You guys looked good,” says Sam, nestling into Steve’s chest.

Steve smiles faintly, running his hand along Sam’s arm. “I’m pretty sure I was just supposed to be a prop,” he jokes.

“But such a pretty prop,” Natasha murmurs, eyes half-closed. She’s flopped across Sharon’s lap with her head pillowed on Sam’s thigh.

“You did twirl me very elegantly,” Sharon adds. She’s still towel-drying her hair despite being tangled up with the group.

“Yeah, well,” Steve begins, “you’re very inspirational.”

Bucky snorts. “God, you guys were adorably heterosexual.”

“Always a fun ruse,” Sharon declares, nudging Natasha.

Natasha chuckles, then opens her eyes. “Yeah. Hey, by the way, Karen mentioned something that I need to talk to you guys about.”

“We’re not adding another person!” says Sam with a roll of his eyes. “You do what you want on your own time, but wrangling the four of you is gonna drive me to an early grave, I swear.”

“But you looooooooove us,” sing-songs Bucky, kissing him on the cheek.

Snorting, Natasha replies, “No, that’s not it. Nowhere near that fun. She said she was worried about Kara, that Ward was acting weird and gross towards her. Muscling her around, making comments about her face, that kind of thing.”

“Ugh,” Sharon says. “The poor girl.”

“Yeah. She wanted to know if I had any suggestions.” Natasha smirks a bit. “My suggestions involved violence, but I promised her I’d ask you all in case you had better ones.”

“Violence sounds pretty awesome,” Sharon admits.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I third the call for violence.”

Steve frowns. “I don’t think that’s the best idea just yet,” he says, reaching to squeeze Bucky’s hand. “Especially because… well, because.”

Bucky gives him one of those soft _looks_ that makes the others feel just a bit like they’re intruding, even though that’s silly. Then he says, “Okay, so what _should_ we do?”

“Could set up some kind of system,” chimes in Sam. “Keep an eye on them whenever we can, look out for really bad shit that could get him busted.”

“I like that,” Sharon says. “I don’t know if it’s the only thing we can do, but it’s a good place to start.”

Natasha nods. “That’s good. Thanks, Sam.” She leans to kiss his thigh through his boxers.

Sam reaches down to lazily pet her hair, and they all start to murmur sweet nothings to each other until their eyes close and one by one they drop off to sleep. It’s not the most comfortable of arrangements, physically, but they’re relaxed and happy.

A few hours later, Natasha blinks awake. Her brain’s whirring, as it does, and she’s thinking about what Sharon said: “It’s a good place to start.” Tailing the couple is all well and good, but they can’t call the police on Ward for being a creepy douchebag. And if he did escalate, there’s no guaranteeing anyone who could help would listen to them.

She thinks for a while, and then she hears the subtle shift in Sharon’s breathing that means she’s waking up too. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You awake?”

Sharon stirs, sighing softly and trying not to disturb the boys. “Kinda,” she whispers. “I probably shouldn’t be, we’ve all got places to be in the morning, but.”

Natasha sits up slowly, quietly, until she can look Sharon in the eye (or approximately, given that the only light in the room is coming from the Wii that’s been left on). “What did you mean earlier when you said ‘it’s a good place to start’?”

“I don’t know,” Sharon says softly, making a face. “It’s like, I don’t want to drag especially Bucky into anything that could lead to shit with Hydra, but I don’t know if just sticking to the talking it out route is gonna work for long. Hell, it didn’t exactly do Coulson any good.”

“Yeah, James can’t be part of this,” agrees Natasha. “But I think you’re right, sooner or later violence might become necessary. You said something about that earlier, but I need to know how serious you were.”

“As serious as I can be,” Sharon declares. “I’m honestly ready to kick his sorry ass. Worse if I didn’t know I stood a chance of getting in trouble for it.”

Natasha laughs, though it’s more of a huff than anything. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Sharon smiles. “Are you asking for the reasons I think you’re asking?”

“Maybe. Not sure yet. I gotta talk to some other people, see if anybody else is feeling the same way we are. I just wanted to know if you were in.”

“Hell yeah,” Sharon says. “All the way, I’m with you.”

Natasha hums and leans forward to kiss her on the lips. “And I’m with you, _зайка._ ”


	51. and since your history of silence won't do you any good, did you think it would?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Mack have lunch together, which catches the attention of a jealous Tony; Wanda gives no fucks about Tony's ego and neither does Pepper; and Wanda and Pietro make new friends (sort of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief mention of physical and emotional abuse.

“Aren’t you worried you’re going to choke?” jokes Bruce, watching Mack inhale his pizza.

Mack grins, swiping some stray cheese off the corner of his mouth. “Nah. But it’s nice of you to be concerned.” He reaches down to grab Bruce’s hand and squeeze it.

Bruce smiles shyly. “Well, I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re...you’re important to me.”

“You too, Doc,” replies Mack. “How’s that, uh, gene splicing project going?” It’s not a gene splicing project, exactly, and he knows Bruce is going to correct him on that because that’s what he does, but it’s the only term he can remember.

Sure enough, Bruce smiles. “It’s not gene splicing exactly, I’m looking into mitochondrial gene expression and how that affects the spread of certain diseases amongst certain social groups. And it’s going pretty well actually, we just started examining the…” At this point the conversation becomes mostly unintelligible to Mack, but he finds Bruce’s excitement so adorable that he doesn’t care.

So he just watches Bruce chatter on about things that are _way_ over his head, nodding sometimes, and continues to eat his pizza. Bruce is picking at the salad he brought in between his sentences, but Mack decides that he’d better remind him to eat more once he wraps up this explanation. Finally Bruce winds down and says, chuckling, “And you didn’t understand a word of that, did you?”

“Nope,” replies Mack cheerfully. “But I like listening to you when you’re happy.”

Bruce squirms a little, but he looks pleased. “I know I can go on for a while so let me know if it ever bothers you…”

“It won’t. Long as you don’t mind when I go on about my shit.”

“No! I like listening to you too. Um, do you, have you, uh...built anything lately?” Bruce immediately makes a face like he wishes he could cut out his own tongue.

Mack pats him on the arm and launches into an excited explanation of the souped-up engine he’s building for Bobbi’s car. Bruce watches him talk with a fond smile, eating more of his salad (which relieves Mack - Bruce might not need an entire pizza for lunch like him, but he needs to eat).

Eventually their lunch hours wind down and Mack glances at his watch. “Well, you know I’d love to spend the whole day talking with you, but I gotta go back to the grind.”

“Me too,” sighs Bruce. “Thanks for this, though. It...it’s been really nice.”

“Thanks yourself,” replies Mack. “Don’t suppose I could get a kiss before I go?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Bruce replies before leaning over to kiss him on the lips.

Meanwhile, across the food court, Tony is fidgeting with his phone when he spots the pair. Now, he’s been hanging out with Bruce here and there, when Bruce wants to, so he knows Bruce could theoretically be into a guy or a girl or another gender entirely, but it’s one of those things that isn’t filed at the forefront of his brain so he hasn’t really thought about it. But there’s Bruce over there, kissing the guy from RadioShack.

“Huh,” he says, and tilts his head. Not that he cares, really, he likes to think of himself as an open-minded, accepting person, but this just isn’t something he’s used to seeing. Mild-mannered Bruce Banner, kissing a dude in the food court. Good for him. Tony’s not jealous.

He texts Pepper.

_> >DID U KNO ABOUT BRUCE AND MACK_

A respectable forty-five seconds later, a reply comes.

_> >Yes, Tony, I did._

_> >WHATS HE GOT THAT I HAVENT GOT :(_  
_> >IM BRILLIANT & SUPER SEXY_  
 _ >>DONT U AGREE?_

_> >I didn’t realize you were interested in playing the gentleman caller._

_> >IM INTERESTED IN LOTS OF THINGS_  
_> >IM VERY OPENMINDED_  
 _ >>U DIDNT ANSWER MY QUESTION_

_> >While I don’t doubt you have many and varied interests, I think one crucial one you’d be lacking here is a visible one in taking on this role you seem affronted to see others taking._

_> >I BOUGHT HIM THINGS PEPPER  
>>THATS HOW U SHOW U LIKE SOMEONE RIGHT?_

_> >You buy everyone things._

_> >BUT THESE WERE SPECIAL  
>>AND WE TALKED SCIENCE_

_> >I don’t know what to tell you, Tony. Maybe Mack just got around to making a move first._

_> >:( :( :( YOURE NOT HELPFUL_

_> >If you wanted someone to lie to you you should have texted someone else._

_> >IM GONNA TEXT RHODEY NOW  
>>HELL SUPPORT ME_

_> >Fine. I need to get back to work anyway._

Tony’s scowling as he shoots off a text to Rhodey.

_> >RHODEY BRUCE IS KISSING A GUY AND ITS NOT ME :(_   
_ >>COMFORT ME_   
_ >>TELL ME IM APPEALING_   
_ >>WHERE ARE U ARE U AT WORK_   
_ >>IM NOT GONNA GO AWAY UNTIL U ANSWER_

But after five minutes (during which he sends texts approximately every fifteen seconds) he gets bored and decides to drown his sorrows in ice cream. Besides, that cute Jemma girl works there and maybe she’ll want to flirt with him.

“Hey there,” he says in his best suave voice once he’s at the counter.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “What do you want?” she asks.

“Well, I find that ice cream helps when you’re not feeling your best.” He smiles charmingly.

“It has been known to have that effect,” Jemma agrees. “Did you have a flavor in mind, or were you going to deliberate vaguely for a while?”

“Well, I figure you know best, since you work here and all. I trust your opinion. You seem like you’re as smart as you are pretty.”

“Been at the top of my class since primary school,” she retorts. “That doesn’t always add up to understanding ice cream, but thankfully it’s done in my case. Birthday cake with extra chocolate.” She offers the solution about as tersely as one could.

“Sounds good to me.” He pouts just a bit. “Been having some...romantic troubles. Chocolate would help.”

“It is one of the more agreeable ways to release endorphins,” she says coolly, punching something in at the register and then stepping to the side to prepare.

“Yeah. I mean, wouldn’t you think that I’d be more appealing than most people? I’m pretty much a catch. I’m brilliant, and my dad’s loaded, and look at this face. I mean, really now, look at me.” Tony gestures vaguely to himself. “You’d be into that, wouldn’t you?”

Jemma has to work very hard not to laugh at that. “You really picked one of the worst people to ask,” she says.

“I think perhaps you might have better luck looking for pity elsewhere,” says a new voice. Wanda appears from seemingly thin air, looking completely done with Tony’s shenanigans.

“Thank you,” Jemma mouths at Wanda.

“Hey, I’m not looking for pity! I mean, not in so many words. If you wanted to give it I wouldn’t be opposed. Do I know you?” Tony furrows his brow.

“Wanda Maximoff,” she says, with just a hint of disdain.

“Yeah, not ringing a bell,” replies Tony with a shrug. “But hey, sounds like the name of somebody I’d like to get to know. How’s dinner sound?”

Wanda laughs before she can stop herself. “I do not think you really wish to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, I dunno, you’re perfectly acceptable,” says Tony, looking her up and down.

“And you, Mr. Stark, I think that you are not. Goodbye.” Wanda glides away, ignoring Tony’s yelped protests. She’s headed to meet Pietro; she doesn’t really want to get involved in Tony’s drama.

“Pietro,” she calls into Foot Locker, “come with me. I am going to buy a star lantern.”

“What for?”

“Because it will look nice. Come.” She stares at him from the entrance until he shrugs at Hogun and follows her out.

They walk downstairs to Fuego, which Wanda has been to on occasion (Pietro has not). She immediately walks over to the display of star lanterns, while Pietro lingers at a shelf full of kitchenware. “What is this?” he asks, holding up a package with a mason jar in it that’s labeled “The Original RedNek Wine Glass.” “Why is it redneck?”

Clint, who’s straightening the vaguely science-themed corner, glances over. “It’s a Southern thing,” he explains. “Rednecks use those as glasses all the time.”

“But why a wine glass?” Pietro asks. “It seems a waste of glass. Couldn’t they simply use the jars they already had?”

Shrugging, Clint says, “Dunno, kid. I just work here. Can I help you find anything?”

“No, my sister is looking for a star lantern but she found them. I am just looking.” Pietro moves on to the jewelry shelf, where he spots a heart-shaped necklace that says “Let’s make out.” “This seems largely impractical. Why would someone wear it?”

“Because they were horny?” Clint tries to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Like I said, I just work here, I don’t bother to look at all of the shit we sell.”

“I do not see a reason for it.” Then Pietro spots a pair of socks printed with cats wearing glasses. “Cats don’t need glasses. Their eyesight is far superior to those of a human. Therefore it is redundant to put glasses on them.”

Clint sighs. “Kid, I really don’t make any of this shit. I just sell it.”

“But shouldn’t you know about the products you sell?”

“Motherfucker,” mutters Clint under his breath. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Pietro is quiet for a few minutes as he wanders through the shop. But then he spots a shirt with a pair of bears, one black bear and one polar bear, and the words “Let’s make a panda.” “That is not how genetics work,” he says. “Their offspring, if it were even viable, would be a shade in between the two colors, most likely. Barring some sort of extremely rare mutation, the resulting cubs would not be born with two-tone fur…”

“But imagine the news coverage if they were,” Raina drawls, sliding into the store. She waves cheerfully to Clint. “Hello, bird boy!”

Clint makes an odd yelping noise.

“I startle him,” Raina stage-whispers to Wanda, standing nearest her. “I’m still not sure why, I’m nothing but civil.”

“I startle people sometimes,” replies Wanda, almost cheerfully. “You are Raina, yes? I’m Wanda. We have never met in person.”

“That’s true,” Raina agrees, just as cheerful. “I saw your wanted ad for psych experiments. I’d volunteer, but I don’t want to skew your results.”

Wanda chuckles. “That’s alright. I had plenty of volunteers. Though I am intrigued by you, if that is not too odd to say. You are an interesting person.”

“Better reaction than I usually get,” Raina chirps. “Dare I ask exactly what catches your interest? At the risk of sounding terribly vain.”

“You say things that no one else would. You do things that others consider strange. I am interested in that. I do and say similar things, at times.”

Raina nods slowly, smirking. “I like the somewhat irony of a self-described weirdo studying psych things,” she declares. “You might actually figure something interesting out.”

“I hope,” says Wanda. “It might be helpful. I want to understand how other people work.”

“That’s noble, and not in the sanctimonious way,” Raina muses.

“Thank you. I think,” replies Wanda. “Most people are confusing.”

“That’s very true,” Raina sighs. “And at that point you just have to figure them out well enough to manage them.”

That makes Wanda laugh. “I am not sure I will ever be able to do that.”

“You seem bright enough,” Raina says with a shrug. “And managing can take many different forms.”

“Could you elaborate?” asks Wanda. “I find I do not always know how best to handle social situations.”

“It depends on the person you’re managing,” Raina says. She nods to Pietro, still grilling Clint about puzzling merchandise. “In this situation, you know it’s better to just step back and let it happen, meanwhile going about your business.”

“Yes,” giggles Wanda, nodding. “He will talk when he wants and I cannot stop him.”

“But it’s harmless, I assume, so there’s no reason to stop him,” Raina counters.

“Generally. He is just...enthusiastic.” Rolling her eyes, Wanda asks, “You are from the weed store, yes?”

“I am from the weed store,” Raina agrees, sounding amused. “Which, contrary to popular opinion, doesn’t actually sell weed.”

Wanda cocks her head. “Then why does everyone call it that? I have never been inside, I admit.”

“We sell things that cater to a… weed-smoking clientele, let’s say,” Raina says. “So-called decorative glassware. Striped poncho-sweaters and other parts of the uniform. Brownies.”

“Ah. That makes sense, I suppose.” Wanda’s quiet a moment, looking at the lanterns. Then she says, “I don’t think what you did was wise. With Ward.”

Raina smiles faintly, like she was just waiting for that to come up. “I don’t think a lot of people do.”

“It was risky,” says Wanda. “You could have been hurt much worse.”

“I know,” Raina shrugs. “But the thing is, I _have_ been hurt worse. For every bruise I posted a photograph of on Skye’s secret internet, I’ve had a broken bone. For every name he called me, I’ve heard three worse than it.” She pauses. “It had to be done, and I had to be the one to do it.”

Wanda nods. “I see how it was valuable, yes. I am glad you’re safe now.”

“Thanks,” Raina says. That gets a little easier for her to hear every time it’s said. “I’m not sure my safety didn’t come at the expense of someone else’s, but.”

“You can’t control that,” replies Wanda, trying for gentle. “Everything will be all right. Or at least, that is what they told us when our parents died.”

Raina frowns. She’s never sure how to handle remarks like that - some people get over things so quickly, some people never get over them. “I’d like to think that’s true,” she says. “I’d also like to think that publicized mistakes aren’t repeated.”

“We can hope,” Wanda says. “Which lantern do you think I should get?”

“Hm,” Raina muses. “The red star, I think. It’s bold, but not too bold.”

Wanda nods. “I like that. Thank you.” She reaches for the appropriate box, picking it up, and smiles at Raina. “We should talk more at some point? I have enjoyed this.”

“I have too,” Raina says, completely truthfully (which is still a weird feeling but one she’s adjusting to). “PM me on the secret internet if you want.”

“I will.” Wanda gives her one last smile and heads for the front counter. “Pietro! I have chosen one. And your break is nearly over.”

Pietro shrugs. “If I am five minutes late, no one will mind. It’s a slow day.” But he does wander towards her, away from Clint, who breathes an inconspicuous sigh of relief before coming over to ring up Wanda.

As the twins leave, Clint glances over at Raina. He’s been too preoccupied to pay much attention to her, but now he just stares at her and blinks.

“Hi again,” she croons.

“Did you want anything?” he asks wearily.

“Vague question,” she muses, giggling before she drifts out of the store.


	52. maybe, boy, when you cry, nobody ever comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and the boys witness something that makes her aware of the gravity of a certain situation; she and some friends take matters into their own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW abusive relationship, varyingly lengthy scenes of physical violence, emotional manipulation, violence involving cars, misogynistic and homophobic language and behavior, brief hints at sexual violence.
> 
> Part of this chapter is basically the film _Death Proof_ , in that it involves revenge by car chasing and beating up, and if that's going to bother you stop reading at "“C’mon, asshat,”" and start again at "whiplash." The rest of the violence is done by at "“You okay?” she asks Bobbi" but the rest of the chapter is dealing with the aftermath thereof.

“Hey, Rumlow just texted me, him and a couple other guys are going out. You wanna go?”

Kara makes a face before she can pull it back. “I have an early morning,” she says. “I, I told you I have an appointment before work, I…”

“C’mon, baby, it’ll be fun.” Ward puts a hand on her arm. “We always have fun.”

“Yeah,” Kara murmurs, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I just feel kind of out of place with your friends. Like, I don’t know, like they just want to have fun in a different way than I do.”

“They’re not so bad, you just have to give them a chance.” Ward tightens his grip on her arm. “Please? I’ll miss you if you don’t come.”

She looks down, chewing her lip. “I just think it might be better if I…”

“If you what?” The words are deceptively innocent, but his tone isn’t. “You sure wanna go home all of a sudden, why is that?”

“I need to sleep!” she exclaims, her voice going high. “I, I told you, I have an early morning.”

He frowns. “Do you? Or is it something else? Are you seeing someone else? Is that why you wanna go home so badly?”

“No!” Kara shouts. “I’m not, I promise, I’m - other boys don’t even look at me, not with… and I don’t want them to!”

“What about that blonde you work with? She sure took an interest in you. Do you have her waiting there for you?” Ward’s not quite shouting, but his voice is getting louder.

“Karen is just my friend!” Kara exclaims, her voice shaking. “Swear it!”

“I don’t think I believe you!” replies Ward, shoving her away from him. “I saw how she was looking at you! It was pity, Kara! She just feels sorry for you!”

“Hey! Shithead!” calls a new voice. Ward’s so shocked he actually turns to look.

Sif’s standing a few yards away, wearing a furious expression. “Lay hands on her again and you’ll get my fist up your ass!”

“Yes, er, why don’t we refrain from any more violence?” asks Volstagg, who is standing behind her, eyes wide. “Talk about this like reasonable folk?”

“ _Reasonable?_ ” Ward bellows. “I’m perfectly reasonable! Fuck off and mind your own business!”

“The frightened young woman cowering over there suggests you might be less than reasonable,” says Fandral breezily. “Miss, are you all right? Shall we call someone for you?”

Kara glances from Sif and her boys to Ward and back, opening and closing her mouth a few times before saying, “I’m fine. I… I provoked him. That’s all.”

Sif scowls. “That’s not what it looked like to me…”

“I’d keep walking if I were you,” says Ward in a low voice.

“But we don’t want to assume things!” says Volstagg quickly. “If you’re sure everything is well, we’ll leave you be.”

“ _We will?_ ” hisses Sif, clenching her fists.

“Yes,” says Fandral quickly, grabbing Sif’s arm. “Come on, Sif.”

Ward nods at them coolly, his earlier anger melted away. “You do that.”

Sif allows herself to be led away, but not before she murmurs, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Ward just smirks as they walk away.

 

* * *

 

 **S.O.S. •** By _LikeAGirl_ , 16-July-2015  
_I’m making this post available to only a few of you. The boys and I were at the movies tonight and we happened to walk by Sir Asshole himself, Grant Ward, and his poor girlfriend. He was yelling at her and accusing her of, I think, sleeping with someone else? I only got the end of it. And then he tossed her against the wall. I almost jumped him but Fandral and Volstagg pulled me away. I was hoping maybe some of you would be interested in...retribution._

 **Re: S.O.S. •** By _TheSplendid_ , 16-July-2015  
1. _They pulled you away? I mean, I understand why they wouldn’t want to get in it at the movie theater but really.  
_ 2. _Retribution sounds perfect. Tasha and I might have been discussing this already._

 **Re: S.O.S. •** By _EnPointe_ , 16-July-2015  
Y _eah, I’m more than inclined to violence now._

 **Re: S.O.S. •** By _Mockingbird_ , 16-July-2015  
_Did you have anything in mind? Or was this a general call for brainstorming?_

 **Re: S.O.S. •** By _LikeAGirl_ , 16-July-2015  
_Not for sure? I’d like it to involve some punching._

 **Re: S.O.S. •** By _Melinda_ , 17-July-2015  
_Much as I enjoy the idea of punching Ward, I should play the responsible one. Besides, I’m more likely to end up a target for his friends than the rest of you. But I’ll help out as needed otherwise._

 **Re: S.O. S. •** By _EnPointe,_ 17-July-2015  
_Sharon and I were actually talking about this recently. I thought maybe if we managed to get him alone, we could rough him up a little?_

 **Re: S.O. S.** • By _TheSplendid,_ 17-July-2015  
_The only trouble there is figuring out how and when to get him alone, which is going to involve learning more about him than I’m pretty sure we want to know. But it’s a necessary evil._

 **Re: S.O. S.** • By _Mockingbird_ , 17-July-2015  
_I happen to know the fucker lives not too far away from me. I’ll do it._

 **Re: S.O. S. •** By _LikeAGirl,_ 17-July-2015  
_Splendid. Can you gather intel on him and report back in a few days? Then we’ll work on formulating the plan._

 **Re: S.O. S. •** By _Mockingbird,_ 17-July-2015  
_Consider it done._

 

* * *

Bobbi swings by for Sharon and finds Natasha already waiting in the store, idling by some fringey sweater-shawls with the most neutral expression possible. “We ready to do this?” Bobbi asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” quips Natasha. “Which is pretty fucking ready.”

“Let me just grab my stuff,” Sharon calls when her manager gives her leave to clock out.

“What do you think, should we plan on grabbing some post-brutal beating dinner after?” Bobbi questions, teasing. “Smacking the shit out of douchebags can take it out of you.”

“Ooh, I could go for some teriyaki,” says Natasha, grinning.

“Perfect,” Bobbi laughs. “Let’s pray there’s a drive-through convenient so the management doesn’t worry about whose blood it is all over us.”

“Okay!” Sharon exclaims, running back out with her bag slung over her shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright,” says Natasha after they’ve piled into Bobbi’s car. “Let’s review one more time, since we gotta go get Sif anyway.”

“Figures she’d be off warming up,” Bobbi smirks. “I mean, I don’t blame her, I bet going a round with Melinda is really something.”

Natasha snorts. “You wanna fight for her, Morse, you be my guest. Anyway. So you’re driving the whole way and basically you’re gonna drive him out to the edge of town, yeah?”

“Oh, I have no intention of getting in the middle of that,” Bobbi says. “I’m just saying.” She shrugs, flicks the windshield wipers on to combat the sudden drizzling rain. “But yeah. We’ll chase him and race him and hell, if I tap his bumper a little Mack will help me fix it.”

“Great. And then eventually he has to stop and get out, at which point he’ll be freaked out and hopefully off his guard. At which point we come in.” Natasha turns around to grin at Sharon in the backseat.

“I’m planning on at least five minutes of him monologuing,” Sharon declares. “During which we can really work our couldn’t-hurt-a-fly faces, because it’s an obvious trick but I know he’ll fall for it.”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” nods Natasha. “We gonna let him throw the first punch?”

“I want to see if he’ll actually do it,” Bobbi muses. “Interrupting his righteous idea of himself sounds almost as satisfying as making him bleed.”

“Ooh, good point. It’ll be the best reason I’ve ever taken a punch.”

They pull into the parking lot of Melinda’s building and Bobbi parks her car abruptly. “I think it’s too damn bad that it’d technically be a bad idea to get this shit on tape,” she giggles.

“Should someone text them so we don’t walk in on anything?” Sharon asks playfully as they get out of the car.

“Please, they’re moving at the speed of _Moonlighting,_ ” quips Natasha, but she pulls out her phone and shoots off a quick text to Melinda. The reply only takes a minute to show up, and then they make their way inside and to the building’s tiny gym.

Melinda and Sif are toweling off, Sif looking very focused. “Hey,” says Melinda, seeing them.

“Hey,” says Natasha. “Good warmup?”

“Yes. I feel more than ready to take him on.” Sif nods at Melinda. “Thank you.” She’s flushed, but it could be from the workout. Definitely not because Melinda’s only wearing a sports bra and exercise pants.

“Of course,” replies Melinda with a small smile. “You’ll kick his ass. You all will.”

Bobbi nods. “Someone ought to,” she says. “He deserves it for all the shit he gets up to.”

“He does.” Melinda turns to Sif. “Be careful.” It’s meant for them all, but she says it to Sif.

“We will,” replies Sif.

“It’s not too late to get in on this,” Bobbi half-teases.

“Tempting as that offer is, plausible deniability is more so,” replies Melinda, smirking.

Natasha shrugs. “Suit yourself, Mel. We’ll report back once it’s done.”

“If you haven’t texted me by eleven thirty, I’m calling Maria and we’re coming after your asses,” Melinda replies.

“Fair,” Sharon chirps. “I’ll set an alarm.”

They get back into Bobbi’s car, Sif in shotgun and the other two in the back, and Natasha asks as Bobbi exits the parking lot, “So...how are things, Sif?” It’s an innocent question, but her tone is just the slightest bit suggestive.

“Fine,” says Sif, who doesn’t always pick up on tone. “Long day at work. Honestly, I’m looking forward to having the opportunity to hit someone for real.”

“Uh huh. And I bet Mel was really helpful too, huh? Helped you...loosen up?”

Sharon bats at Natasha’s arm in reprimand, mouthing “what are you doing?”

Natasha nudges her away and smirks. Sif, oblivious to all of this, replies, “Yes, she’s a very good sparring partner. Very, um, skilled.”

“ _Skilled._ ” Natasha manages to put about twelve double entendres into one word. “Yeah, that’s the impression I’ve gotten.” She’s quiet for a moment and then says, “So, have you told her you’re into her yet?”

“ _Tasha_ ,” Sharon hisses.

Natasha shrugs. “I wanted to know. Have you?”

Sif’s cheeks have turned an interesting shade of pink. “Er. No. How did you know?”

“The better question would be how wouldn’t she have known,” Bobbi points out, not unkindly.

Sif yelps. “Who else knows?”

“Um, most of the mall, really,” says Natasha, almost apologetic. “You two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Shit,” says Sif. “Do you think Melinda knows?”

“I’m not an expert on what Mel does and doesn’t know.” Natasha’s trying for kindness. “But if she has figured it out, she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.”

“I think your odds are pretty good,” Sharon chimes in.

Natasha nods. “Mel doesn’t waste her time if she doesn’t like people.”

Suddenly, Bobbi frantically waves one hand behind her. “Focus,” she hisses. They’re pulling into the IKEA lot.

“What’s his car look like?” Sharon asks.

“White and shitty, just like him,” Bobbi grins.

Sif snorts. “Appropriate.”

They wait in darkness and silence, the lights in Bobbi’s car turned off, until he comes out of the IKEA. He’s almost strutting and Sif has to refrain from making a gagging noise.

“Keep an eye on him,” Bobbi tells Sif as she sets about turning the car on as subtly as possible. Luckily, the sky has darkened and it’s started to rain.

Everyone nods and, when Ward gets into his car and drives toward the street, Bobbi follows him. She doesn’t turn her brights on even though it’s unsafe because that way he won’t see them coming quite as soon. Maybe.

“Car chase music would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it,” Sharon murmurs.

“Are you talking _Mad Max_ or _Furious 7_?” teases Natasha. “Or like, _Speed_?”

“Whichever,” Sharon says dismissively. “I think the former has the best implication here, but it wouldn’t exactly be right to have gone out of our way.”

“You’re a dork,” murmurs Natasha, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Sharon murmurs as Bobbi changes lanes and inches right up beside Ward.

“C’mon, asshat,” Bobbi mutters under her breath, working very hard to match Ward’s pace exactly and get just too close to his side door for comfort.

Ward, who’s been cheerfully singing along to his Nickelback CD, doesn’t really notice until she all but grazes his door, at which point he yelps and swerves away before yelling “Hey asshole, watch where you’re fucking going!”

“Bingo,” Bobbi murmurs.

They can’t get too dangerous while they’re still driving through town, so she makes sure to stay right next to him, their doors almost flush against each other. He curses and guns it, trying to get ahead of her, but she matches his pace, making it impossible. Besides which, the rain is coming down steadily and his tires can’t quite get traction.

Eventually he manages to pull ahead (mostly because Bobbi lets him), and they stay right on his tail. They’re getting closer to the edges of town, which leads to a highway and eventually a semi-wooded area. Ward tries to take the exit for his apartment, but Bobbi blocks him and he mutters something about “fucking tailgating asshole blocking me, fine, I’ll go the long way.”

“I hope everyone’s seatbelts are on,” Bobbi says cheerfully.

Sif grins. “He seems to be less than pleased.”

Bobbi maneuvers the car close enough to Ward’s now to bump it, just gently, just for a second, before moving back into their lane with a flourish. “Suck it,” she chirps.

That makes Ward really angry, and he swerves over to nudge Bobbi’s car. He’s probably yelling, though they can’t make out the words.

“Roll your window down,” Bobbi instructs Sif.

Sif nods and does so, not minding the spray of water that splashes in.

They can just barely make out every other word. “...call the cops...fucking...crazy bitches…”

“Witness me,” deadpans Natasha.

Without much warning, Bobbi backs off for a minute, lulling him into a false sense of security.

He keeps grumbling to himself and tries to outpace them. For a little while he thinks he’s managed it, but then he feels them tap his bumper. Or, more accurately, they’re right up against him, not quite pushing him but definitely resting there. “Fuck,” he says, and tries to force his car to go faster.

Bobbi knows what she’s doing, though, and she just keeps up, mumbling apologies to Mack (who, as she said, will fix her car if he has to, even though he doesn’t officially encourage this behavior) and once they’re far enough removed from civilization actually even speeding up.

“Shit,” Sharon murmurs.

Ward is starting to look actually worried and seems to be cursing more out of fear than anger. He’s glancing over his shoulder and basically flooring the gas pedal, to no avail.

“What do you think, guys, send him into that fence?” Bobbi asks, nodding to a fenced-in field along the side of the road.

“Do it,” says Natasha, her smile wicked.

With a loud cry, then, Bobbi pulls back and speeds forward into Ward’s car, sending it skidding in the appropriate direction (there’s even a slight ditch between the road and the fence, so the car goes nose-down).

The others slam against their seatbelts, but everyone manages to avoid getting worse damage than whiplash. “Alright, it’s go time,” murmurs Natasha. “Everyone have their umbrellas?” It’s a little absurd to worry about getting wet at a time like this, but she figures they can be used as weapons too.

When they get out of the car, Ward’s already crawled out and is assessing the damage, growling to himself. When he spots them coming towards him, he calls, “Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Could ask you the same,” Bobbi says, twirling her umbrella.

“Excuse me?”

“Playing dumb doesn’t absolve you,” replies Sif. “I saw what you did to Kara. I hear you talking to her. You’re cruel and you take advantage of her. It must stop.”

“Or what?” Ward’s slipped into cocky now. It’s almost funny, since he’s getting soaked through and resembles a drowned animal more than anything.

“Dumb question,” Sharon chuckles, making a fist and driving it into her other palm softly.

“Yeah, I’m not sure you’re in a position to be negotiating here,” quips Natasha.

Ward scoffs. “Please. You have numbers on your side, but how many of you have done anything more than go up against a punching bag? I don’t think any of you could fight a toddler.”

Bobbi snorts out a laugh. “Clearly my reputation does not proceed me,” she muses.

“Yeah, I don’t know who you are or why the fuck you thought crashing my car was funny,” replies Ward. “But I don’t like hitting girls, so I suggest you get back in your car and drive off before I rethink that.”

“Yes, you just like throwing them around and yelling at them when they step out of line.” Sif’s holding her umbrella like a fencing sword. “That’s completely different.”

“Ordering them around,” Sharon adds.

“Belittling them,” Bobbi says.

“Choking them,” finishes Natasha.

“Yeah, you’re a _real_ gentleman,” Sharon drawls sarcastically.

She’s barely got the words out of her mouth before Ward lunges forward and pins her underneath him. “I told you, _I don’t like hitting girls,”_ he says, punching her in the nose.

“Oh _fuck_ you!” Natasha grabs Ward’s legs and drags him off of Sharon, smacking him on the back of the head with her umbrella.

“You good?” Bobbi murmurs, offering Sharon a hand up.

“Fucking perfect,” Sharon hisses, swiping the back of her hand across her nose and spitting.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Ward are circling each other, Ward looking more pissed off than he already was. “If you cunts had just minded your own damn business then everything would be fine!” he growls. “And now you’ve made me use that word too. Fuck.”

“Tell us more about your poor feelings,” snarks Sif, taking a step forward as if to flank Natasha.

“Oh, I bet he’d just love to get going on that,” Bobbi growls. “Telling us all of his sad stories so he can get us feeling bad for him. Pitying him so we go along with his bullshit.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Ward throws himself at Natasha, who easily dodges him and gives him a good whack with her umbrella as his body sails by. He manages to catch himself, stumbling for a minute and then turning around. “Alright, you want a fight, come on!” He tries for a punch that’s vaguely aimed at Bobbi, who’s standing closest, but it’s sloppy.

“Your aim is terrible,” replies Sif, giving him an uppercut.

He recovers quicker than she expected, though, and grins. “Or maybe I was just waiting for one of you to get closer.” He takes the opportunity to hit her cheek, which makes her roar angrily and spit blood in his face before headbutting him.

Sharon, fully recovered by this point (or fully functional, if still bleeding), runs and jumps Ward, wrapping around him and trying her hardest to at least throw his balance. She’s a slender girl and he’s at least partially a muscley guy, so it doesn’t work perfectly, but she tries.

But luck’s on her side, because Ward’s still reeling from the headbutt and Sharon’s weight is just enough to send him to the ground. At the first possible opportunity she moves so she’s crouching over him, then goes to punch him in an echo of how he punched her. “Keep monologuing,” she goads. “It makes it easier to want to smack you.”

He grunts when her fist makes contact, then wrestles himself out from under her and flips them so that he’s pinning her down. She’s squirming, but since he’s definitely bigger, he has the advantage. “Clever,” he smirks, reaching to put his hands around her throat. “You know, there are more fun contexts for me to be doing this in, but you asked for it.”

Natasha lands on his back, wrapping herself around him and twisting his neck until he rolls to the side enough trying to get her off of him and lets go of Sharon. They wrestle for a minute, Natasha pulling at his hair and clothes, and he gasps, “Fucking...dyke!” That earns him a bite on the nose, and not a gentle one.

Bobbi shakes out her dripping hair for a second before motioning for Sif to hand over her umbrella. Sif does, mouthing “Give him hell.”

Fast enough that it looks rehearsed, Bobbi shuts both umbrellas and twirls them in her hands like she’s testing the weight of them. She smirks crookedly at Sharon over Ward’s shoulder before she smacks him in the back of the neck with one of the umbrellas.

“ _Seriously?_ ” yelps Ward, still trying to shake Natasha off to no avail.

“You bet your ass,” Bobbi hisses, swinging the other umbrella into his ribcage.

Groaning, Ward drags himself out from under Natasha and staggers to his feet, turning to face Bobbi. “Bunch of dykes, think you’re so brave,” he spits, as they begin to circle each other. “Defending each other, defending Kara, defending anyone you think needs it. I remember you now, do-gooder bitch, you threatened me with a beer bottle when I was talking to that pink-haired freak in the bar. Up on your high horse, you think you know what’s best. Well, you don’t. Kara doesn’t need your protection or your help, and you can’t stop me. When I get bored with her, I think I’ll move on. To Skye, maybe.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “I’m gonna take what I want” before making a grab for Bobbi’s umbrellas.

On the one hand, that’s so out of nowhere that it seems like nonsense, but on the other, well, he’s clearly paid enough attention to get her weaknesses. As such, Bobbi lets out a feral yell as she leverages the umbrellas and strikes him with them one after the other.

Ward grunts and tries to fend them off, mostly unsuccessfully, but he backs out of range and continues. “Girls like you, you think you’re better than everyone else. You think you can tell them what to do and they’ll listen. You think you can make everyone roll over and do what you say. Well, you’re wrong.” Before any of them can react, he whirls around and cracks Sharon across the face. “You don’t have any power, over me or anyone. I’m going to show that to you.”

“Fuck you,” Sharon shouts, though it’s not as threatening as she’d have liked considering Ward’s hit sent her crumpling to the ground.

As if to prove him wrong, Bobbi whacks him in the side, then the stomach. “Nobody here is asking anyone to just roll over,” she hisses. “There are some parties I think we’d all rather see playing dead, but that’s not our call to make.” She twirls her umbrellas and makes a face. “We’re not into forcing people to do whatever we want, but if we see someone trying to do that then we’re gonna do our best to stop them.” Two more blows wherever she can land them.

While Bobbi talks, Sharon is doing her best to stand up; she feels the slightest bit dizzy, but it seems important. But before she can, Ward leans down and slams the back of her head, sending her sprawling to the ground again. Natasha drops to her knees immediately to look after Sharon.

“You were saying?” says Ward to Bobbi, taunting her now. “If this is the best you can do, I’m not sure why I was worried. Two against one is nothing.”

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Bobbi snarls, kicking him in the stomach and battering him with the umbrellas while he’s doubled over.

Ward’s wheezing in pain, though he tries to pass it off as a laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he grunts, trying to roll over and sweep his arm around so it knocks her down. He misses.

“I’d say you’re wrong about that,” smirks Sif, giving his ribs a good kick and then jumping out of the way before he can retaliate.

But she’s not his target; Bobbi is. He manages to swing his legs around and kick her hard enough to knock her down. She falls with a shout that’s more surprised than pained (though it’s a little of both) and immediately works at pushing herself back up. “Like any of us would ever think about so much as touching you intimately,” she retorts.

Ward drags himself over to her before she can get up and punches her square in the eye. “Please, don’t play coy,” he sneers, hitting her again. “You and I both know you’re in need of a good fuck.”

Bobbi snorts, kneeing him in the crotch. “I highly doubt you’d be able to provide,” she snaps.

He wheezes and his arm flails out to smack Bobbi in the face again. “Bitch, I’m everyone’s type,” he snarls, punctuating each word with a hit.

“Bobbi?” Sif calls. She understands that this is something that’s been building for a while, something that Bobbi needs to do, but she doesn’t want to just stand there while Bobbi’s getting pummelled either.

“M’fine,” Bobbi mutters unconvincingly, resorting to her fists to defend herself.

Ward laughs. “You’ve looked better. Although I confess this isn’t that bad of a look for you. I’m kinda into it.” He grabs a fistfull of her hair and yanks it, making her grunt. “Still thinking this was a good idea, Buffy?”

“Fucking _shiny_ ,” Bobbi growls, dragging her fingernails over his face hard enough to draw blood.

“Shit! You fight dirty. I like it.” Ward smirks and reaches down to grab at Bobbi’s crotch roughly. “I can do that too.”

Bobbi groans and tries to push him off, kick him off, anything, and Sif jumps in, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him to the side, off of Bobbi. She and Ward struggle for a few minutes before Sif manages to wrestle him to the ground and land a few punches in.

“How’s this for dirty?” she says.

Feeling all too fuzzy-headed, Sharon comes to, holding onto Natasha for balance. “What the hell’s going on,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” Natasha murmurs, stroking Sharon’s cheek with her thumb. “Final boss fight. How are you doing?”

“Okay?” Sharon says, though it comes out sounding like a question.

Natasha runs a hand through her hair. “You’ll be okay.”

“Should we be helping?” Sharon asks.

“You shouldn’t,” teases Natasha. “They’ll be okay. They’re badasses.”

Sighing heavily, Bobbi manages to push herself to her feet and fumble for the umbrellas. She turns to grin at Sharon and Natasha, and she must be a little out of it because she even winks, then she’s throwing herself at Ward, impromptu weapons first.

Together, Bobbi and Sif manage to hold Ward down and Sif cracks him upside the head so hard that he definitely passes out. But just to be safe, Sif punches him a couple more times.

“You okay?” she asks Bobbi.

“Someone else needs to drive,” Bobbi mutters.

“I will,” Sif replies, sort of falling off of Ward and staggering to her feet, then kneeling down to help Bobbi up. It’s not the easiest task, since Bobbi’s pretty roughed up.

“Keys are on the front seat,” Bobbi says, waving dismissively.

Sif helps Bobbi limp over to her car, settling her into the front seat before turning back for Sharon and Natasha. “Are you all right?”

“Been better,” says Natasha with a wry smile.

“Yeah, pretty much that,” Sharon sighs. “What about you guys?” She glances toward Bobbi. “Holy shit, she’s…”

“I’m still conscious, at least,” Bobbi cracks, her tone soft enough that it doesn’t sound mean, just playfully combative.

“We need to… okay, so my neighbor Claire, she’s in nursing school, she can help,” Sharon announces. “Let’s get to my place.”

 

* * *

 

Claire’s just settling in for the night with a glass of wine and a book (it’s a weeknight, but one glass won’t hurt anything), when there’s a knock on her door. She freezes for a second, sure there must be a mistake. Nope. More frantic knocking. She sighs and walks out to check the peephole.

Of all the people she expected to see on her doorstep, Sharon Carter and three other women, all looking like they’ve had the shit kicked out of them, weren’t high on the list.

“What the fuck?” are her first words when she opens the door.

“I don’t suppose you’d buy that we all ran into doors,” Sharon quips.

“No I would fucking not! Sharon, what is this? What did you _do?_ ”

“We car-chased and subsequently beat the fuck out of a Nazi,” Sharon shrugs casually. “Can we come in?”

Claire sighs. “Oh my god, I thought you were normal. I thought I’d finally made a normal friend in this town. Fine, c’mon in. You all need help.”

“Thank you,” Sharon says. “I don’t wanna impose, but it’s, uh, kind of an emergency. Maybe.”

“She means me,” Bobbi giggles. “I’m the maybe-emergency.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Claire, staring at Bobbi. “What, did you get in a boxing match with him?”

“I beat him with umbrellas and then he held me down and punched me to shit,” Bobbi shrugs. “It kinda got personal. It would’ve been worse if I hadn’t had backup.” She smiles at Sif.

“Get in here, you idiots.” Claire rolls her eyes and beckons them inside. “You, on the couch,” she adds to Bobbi. “I need to examine you. You next,” she says to Sharon.

“ _Examine_ me,” Bobbi repeats with a smirk, but she manages to get to the couch and settle down (or more accurately, flop down).

“Oh, shut up, Morse, this is no time for flirting,” sighs Claire.

Natasha chuckles. “At least we know you’re alert enough to do that.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes.

Claire sits down next to her and, taking Bobbi’s head in her hands, turns it so Bobbi’s looking right at her. She studies her face for a moment, then says, “How are you feeling? Dizzy, clear-headed, fuzzy-headed, vision problems?”

Bobbi makes a face. “Fuzzy is a good word for it,” she admits. “Both in terms of my brain and in terms of what I’m looking at.”

“Alright. So you almost definitely have a concussion, along with a hell of a dent in your head. Carter, can you go to the bathroom and get the grey box out of the cabinet?”

Sharon nods. “Of course,” she murmurs, going to do that as quickly as she can and returning to present it with a flourish.

As Claire’s pulling gauze and bandages out of the box, she asks, “Do any of you others feel dizzy or lightheaded or like you’re going in slow motion? Vision problems, balance problems, any of that?”

“Well, Sharon got knocked out for a while there, but she’s probably fine,” replies Natasha. “And I’m okay. Sif?”

Sif shrugs. “Nothing serious.”

“Jesus,” mutters Claire. “First a cage-fighting moron, now a bunch of vigilante justice assholes. I gotta be doing something to attract these types.”

“It’s not like we _wanted_ to do this,” Sharon defends. “There just comes a point when, you know, nothing else is working so you have to try violence. We still came out better than he did.”

“And he would be…?” Claire’s tone is almost too casual.

“Grant Ward. A member of Hydra, who has been very cruel to a girl he is dating. I saw him being violent towards her,” explains Sif. “Before this, others had heard him yelling at and belitting her. We decided that this had been going on long enough.”

“Sounds like a real charmer,” replies Claire. “So, okay, I can see how you got there. Vigilante justice though...not always the best idea. Which idiot came up with that plan?”

There’s a moment of silence before Natasha replies, “Uh...all of us, sort of. Together.”

“Before this, he’d done something similar to another girl,” Sharon adds. “She got proof.”

“Wait. Karen said something about this,” says Claire. “Goddammit. Did she have something to do with this?”

Sif shakes her head. “No, the idea was shared amongst the four of us and one other person. She had nothing to do with this.”

Natasha nods. “She came and talked to me about it, but I was already kind of uneasy about the situation.”

“Fine,” sighs Claire. “Sharon, c’mere. I’m gonna look at you too.”

“Not a horrible idea,” Sharon declares, moving over. She’s pretty sure that at this point she looks a lot worse than she feels, but better safe than sorry. “Tasha did take pretty good care of me, though.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Well, she’s not a medical professional.” But after a moment, she concedes that Sharon’s mostly none the worse for wear. “Okay, you two don’t look quite as bad,” she says to Sif and Natasha, “but lemme give you a once-over just in case.”

Sif nods. “Thank you.”

Aside from some minor scrapes, both are clean. “Okay, Morse, you’re not allowed to go into work tomorrow. Call in sick,” orders Claire. “The rest of you should too, probably, but I’m not your mother - thank God - so you can make your own judgment call. But if you do go in, take it easy.”

Bobbi sighs. “Gotta say, I’m not really used to being the bossed,” she says, with a little more of that flirtatious edge in her voice. “I’m usually the bosser.” It’s less effective given the way she’s currently lolled against the sofa, barely looking at anyone, but it’s said.

Claire rolls her eyes and pointedly ignores the comment. “Keep an icepack handy for if any swelling occurs, and take pain meds if you need them. Whatever you do, don’t strain yourself. That goes for the rest of you, too,” she adds.

 

* * *

 

“You’re an idiot,” says Mack, handing Bobbi the bowl of soup he’s just heated.

“Yeah, but I’m an idiot with a heart of gold,” Bobbi smirks. “Or something.”

“And a head of straw,” sighs Mack. “At least you didn’t fuck up your car too bad.”

“It was the best way to get him out where we wouldn’t get caught,” Bobbi exclaims defensively.

Shaking his head, Mack replies, “You’ve said that twice today already. Doesn’t make it any less stupid.” He grins. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were just taking advantage of my friendship and generous vehicle maintenance offers.”

“I would never,” Bobbi chirps, just as the doorbell rings.

Since Bobbi’s on bedrest, Mack answers the door. Skye and Jemma are standing there, holding a carton of ice cream and a small, obviously hastily-wrapped present. “Hi!” says Skye. “We’re, uh, here to see Bobbi?”

“Oh, you are, huh?” Mack rolls his eyes. “Bob, there’s some girls here to see you!”

“Some girls? Aw, fuck off,” says Skye, pushing her way past him inside. “Bobbi? We brought you stuff!”

“Don’t mind Mack, he’s just playing guard dog today,” Bobbi declares cheerfully. “Mack, can you put that ice cream in the freezer for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, just waiting on you hand and foot, that’s me,” grumbles Mack, taking the ice cream to the kitchen.

“We brought you another present, too!” Jemma exclaims, nodding to the mess of wrapping paper in Skye’s hand. “Goodness, Karen said Claire had said you’d… but I trust her, I’m sure you’re all right really, but I’m so sorry, Bobbi. That black eye looks awful.”

“Badge of honor and so forth,” Bobbi drawls.

“Even still,” Jemma murmurs. “You’re very brave to put yourself through that and it’s very good of you. Apparently, apparently Kara told Karen that Ward didn’t go into work today either. Said he’d smashed his car up on the back roads.”

“Half true,” Bobbi smirks.

“Anyway, I think you’re very wonderful to go after him like that,” Jemma concludes, smiling.

Skye nods. “You’re awesome. Like, _so_ awesome. He deserves way worse than a fucked up car and a beating, but the fact that you even did that is pretty great.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest,” Bobbi coos.

“Stop praising her!” calls Mack. “You’re encouraging her and she’s gonna pull this shit again!”

“I’m gonna pull this shit as many times as I have to no matter what,” Bobbi calls back. “Now. I’m not too proud to tactfully ignore the present?”

Skye hands it to her, grinning a bit sheepishly. “It’s not much, but we, uh, wanted to bring something.”

“Fucking adorable,” Bobbi chuckles. She tears the wrapping off hurriedly and pulls out a pair of fairly cheap but fairly nice Apple headphones, clearly an employee discount purchase. “Aw.”

“Well, we were a bit short on time,” Jemma giggles, “but I think it’s very practical?”

“Yeah, it was the only thing in the store that wasn’t useless to you,” adds Skye. “So, uh, enjoy? Feel better?”

“Already do,” Bobbi smiles.

 

* * *

 

“How’s the patient?” calls Isabelle in an overly cloying tone.

“Ugh,” Bobbi replies cheerfully. “My head’s kind of pounding on and off and I don’t really trust myself to walk without a limp, but I’ve had worse.”

Isabelle chuckles. “You have. I remember a couple of them. Hey, Mack.”

“Hey. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to take over babysitting duty?”

“I’m a joy,” Bobbi retorts. “And I might point out that I didn’t technically even ask you to babysit in the first place.”

“No, but if I didn’t, you’d be trying to do something else stupid and making yourself worse,” replies Mack.

“As fun as that would be, I’m actually on my way to pick up Victoria for a date,” says Isabelle. “Not gonna call that off. How are the others?”

“Sap,” Bobbi teases. “They’re okay. Sif feels fine, Sharon and Nat have had three male nurses all day.” She grins at Mack. “Just like me, except definitely not at all like me.”

Mack makes a noise of disgust. ‘Very much _not,_ thanks. You want that kind of nursing, you look elsewhere, Morse.”

“Victoria and I have other plans, unfortunately,” says Isabelle with a smirk.

“Conveniently, I don’t want that kind of nursing, not when I feel and look this shitty,” Bobbi replies. “But speaking of Victoria, are you thinking about doing the stupid thing yet?”

“Jesus, not tonight. Cool your jets,” laughs Isabelle. “We’ve talked about it? She wants us to live together for a while first. Y’know, see how that works out.”

“Don’t you do that about half the time already?” Bobbi teases.

Isabelle rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but _officially_. I mean, honestly, if anybody else had mentioned this I would’ve been out the door a long time ago, but she’s...different.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bobbi says softly. “You guys are painfully cute. Synced up. It’s nice for you.”

“Thanks.” Isabelle smiles. “Hey, be careful, okay? I can’t have you dying on me.”

“Promise,” Bobbi agrees. “No dying. And the next concussion won’t be mine.”


	53. you still have a chance, you don’t have to be asked to dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team America fends off a would-be benevolent interloper and goes to see Natasha's performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Monday was the official first anniversary of the first chapter of this story, which is surreal to say the least. Thank you to everybody who's been reading and enjoying it! We appreciate you all so much and we hope you'll keep enjoying it for as long as we're posting.
> 
> Takes place in the middle of [why are you so scared you stand there shaking in your pew](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4511100/chapters/10260162).

Apparently Sharon’s been sitting in the food court since she got out of work this afternoon, drinking sodas and calling over any passersby she can, because that’s where Steve and Sam find her, cheerfully explaining something to… Peter Quill.

“So you feel pretty strongly about this, huh?” he’s asking, his stance casual in a too-obvious way.

“I do,” Sharon agrees, smiling as brightly as she can.  “It’s my aunt’s petition, technically, but I’d be advocating the freedom to teach most so-called controversial books no matter who was spearheading the movement.”

Quill nods. “So what’s so bad about these? I mean, I don’t remember most of the books they made me read in school, which means they were boring.”

“Well, the biggest controversy is _The Handmaid’s Tale_ , largely because of the adult content,” Sharon explains, rolling her eyes.  “But the dystopian genre is contended a lot on principle.  Rebellion against authority, dark and gritty whatever, violence, all that stuff.”  

“Dude, that sounds awesome! If they’d let me read that as a kid, I’d probably still be reading.” Quill reaches for the pen. “I’ll sign it, sure. Your name was Sharon, right?”

Sharon tries not to roll her eyes again.  “Still is, and has been every time we’ve spoken prior to this point,” she chirps.  “Thanks for signing, though.  We’re not sure how much sway this is going to have, but every little bit counts.”

“Sure, yeah. So...I hope this isn’t a weird question to ask, but uh, your boyfriends, are they up for...y’know...sharing you?”

She tries not to sigh audibly or launch into an in-depth explanation of the difference between polyamory and swinging, and instead just smiles and says, “You could ask them,” spotting Steve and Sam and waving them over.

“Ask us what?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll let him explain,” Sharon grins.

“Uh,” says Quill, “I was just wondering, uh…” He coughs. “Y’know what, never mind. I’ll see you later and uh, good luck with your petition.” He hurries off.

‘Was that what I think it was?” Steve asks, utilizing his “disappointed Mr. Rogers” voice.

“You’ve met that guy, what do you think?” Sharon asks.

Sam chuckles. “Yup. Definitely was.”

“You about done for the day, crusader?” Steve asks playfully.  “We’ve got to go get ready, you know.”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna take longer than the rest of us ‘cause Buck’s gotta help you get some concealer on that bruise,” teases Sam.

“War wounds,” Sharon replies airily, standing and tidying up the table she’d claimed.  “I’m just glad Tasha’s are all gone by now so she doesn’t have to worry about that.”

“She’s always bounced back quick,” says Sam fondly.

“She has,” Steve agrees.  “But maybe next time you save the justice runs for _after_ her big performances?”

“If we could control when we needed to do justice runs, we probably wouldn’t have to do them in the first place,” Sharon shrugs.

 

* * *

 

“I’d say you’re a winter,” says Bucky playfully, brushing concealer over the purple bruise on Sharon’s calf.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Sharon chuckles.  “I could never keep all that straight.”

“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t for work,” Bucky replies, grinning. “Also, again, I appreciate your leaving me out but I hate to think of that bastard hurting you.”

Sharon flushes. “Take comfort in the fact that he apparently still hasn’t been back into work, at least, but thank you,” she says.  “It’s not like I’ve never been bruised or momentarily knocked unconscious before, but - yeah.  It wasn’t ideal but it was a risk that we had to take.”

“Still.” Bucky kisses a non-bruised section of her calf. “I hope he never touches another woman again.”

“ _That_ would be ideal,” Sharon agrees, but her eyes have fluttered closed and her hand moves to rest on Bucky’s shoulder, a silent thank you for the attention.

“C’mon you saps,” Sam calls, “let’s move!”

“Let me just get my dress on, silly,” Sharon chides, rising to do just that and raising an eyebrow as if to ask for help with her zipper.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” replies Sam good-naturedly as he comes over to help. “You know I’d do anything you asked.”

“Thank you Sam,” Sharon sing-songs sweet as she can.

“You both look great,” says Bucky, leaning over to kiss first Sharon and then Sam on the cheek. “Where’s Steve at?”

“Right here,” Steve calls, entering the room with an immaculately-wrapped heart-shaped box under his arm.  “Just putting the finishing touches on our gift.”

Bucky chuckles. “You know she’s just gonna rip that paper off.”

“The presentation is important,” Steve argues cheerfully.  

Sam grins and rolls his eyes. “Let’s go before they start the damn thing without us.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky glances around the lobby uneasily. “This is...fancy.”

Steve smiles and rubs Bucky’s shoulder reassuringly.  “We won’t be here long, promise,” he says.  “Nat’s gonna be out soon and we’ll all be on our way.”

“Hey there!” a familiar voice calls. They turn to see Coulson walking towards them, waving awkwardly, with Melinda a few steps behind.

“Hi!” Sharon chirps in response, trying not to chuckle at how mismatched they seem.

“Hey,” says Melinda, smirking. “How’re you?”

“Kind of in awe,” Sharon admits.  “I’ve seen Tasha dance before, but not like this.”

“She’s really something,” replies Melinda with a nod.

“She is,” says Sam proudly. “How’re you two?” He’s not as good at keeping his amusement hidden.

This, of course, goes over Coulson’s head. “Very well, thanks. Mel wanted to come and support Natasha, and I’m...something of a connoisseur of the arts myself.”

“That’s very good of you!” Steve declares, because he’s the least likely to point out the obvious humorous awkwardness.

Bucky giggles. “Yeah. What’d you think of Tasha’s performance?”

“Oh, wonderful! She really brought out the character of Hermia,” replies Coulson, glancing at Melinda. “I found her pining for Demetrius just so convincing.”

Steve is polite enough not to say anything about that, but his face is reading confusion.  “Uh-huh,” he mumbles.

Sam, too, is tilting his head. “Yeah, that’s...one way of looking at it.”

Meanwhile, Melinda and Sharon exchange a disbelieving look. Or, Sharon’s is disbelieving, Melinda’s seems more long-suffering than anything.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she says, turning away.

Coulson smiles brightly at the others. “I was also very impressed with the orchestra. Audrey, is that the name of the cellist? She was brilliant.”

“Uh. Yeah?” Bucky asks. “I mean she’s really good, but I wasn’t paying attention to her, honestly.”

“Oh, you should’ve been!” replies Coulson. “She’s the star of the orchestra and she can make anything sound good.”

Sharon raises an eyebrow.  “I’m sure,” she murmurs, honestly intrigued by this development.

“The music was nice,” says Sam, shrugging. “I’m not really good with knowing about that. I know classic rock, that’s about it.”

“Some of us need to,” Sharon chuckles, nudging Steve pointedly.

Coulson chuckles. “I always liked the Eagles best, myself.”

Steve looks helplessly at Sam for the significance of that.

“Tell you later,” says Sam, putting a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“The Eagles and the cello, that’s quite a difference,” Sharon comments, kind of hoping Coulson will say something else hilarious.

“Cello?” asks Melinda, coming back.

“We were talking about how nice they sound!” says Coulson quickly.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I thought we were talking about…”

“Oh, look, there’s Audrey!” Coulson waves as the orchestra members start to emerge. “Melinda, you wanna come say hi with me?”

“Sure,” replies Melinda, smirking again.

Audrey beats them to it, though, approaching the group with a smile.  “Natasha will be out soon,” she tells them.  “I think one of the most convenient things about the orchestra is not having to worry about all that stage makeup.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty without it,” says Coulson, and immediately looks as if he regrets his entire life.

Audrey giggles nervously.  “Thank you,” she mumbles.  “That… I mean, it was mostly a comment about how removing that must take forever.  But thank you.”  She sounds almost like she’s asking it as a question.

“You played very well,” says Melinda.

“Thank you!” Audrey repeats, more confidently this time.  “It’s such a fun piece to play, I’m glad I can do it justice.”

“You definitely did,” says Coulson, beaming at her. Then he glances over at Melinda, his face suddenly worried. Melinda is still smirking.

“Yeah, you were great. How’s Ajax?” asks Bucky.

“He’s doing well!” Audrey says, visibly relieved of the switch in conversational topic.  “We should attempt a doggy playdate some time.  If you think yours would be up for it…?”

“Callie definitely would! The other two, I’m not sure about, but we’ll see.” Bucky smiles. “Callie needs some dog friends more her size anyway.”

“All right!” Audrey says, after a second glancing back at Coulson and Melinda and apologetically adding, “I’m so sorry, dog owner talk, it’s like children but less terrifying.”

Coulson chuckles. “I understand. Never had one myself, dog or child, but I definitely see the appeal of one over the other.”

Sam snickers behind his hand. Sharon elbows him, but fortunately Coulson hasn’t noticed.

“Meaning that dogs are reliable and children aren’t?” asks a newcomer, a woman whose accent and dress both declare that she is Not From Here, as she approaches the group.

“Vanessa!” Audrey exclaims, grinning.  “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Of course,” Vanessa declares.  “It’s not as if there was much else to do around here.”

Coulson raises an eyebrow. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Vanessa Marianna,” drawls Vanessa, holding a hand out languorously at the same time that Audrey smiles and explains, “Vanessa got brought on to manage the art gallery over at your mall, oh, a month ago, about?”

Steve waves shyly, and Sam asks, “Oh, do y’all know each other?”

“Art store,” Steve explains.  “We met there, I mean.”

“Artsy oddballs have a way of finding each other,” Vanessa smirks, winking at Steve as innocently as it’s possible to wink at someone.

“We certainly do,” says Coulson.

Unlike the others, who have the right kind of manners to avoid reacting to that, Vanessa raises an eyebrow and by the time Coulson’s attention is diverted rolls her eyes blatantly, making the softest scoffing noise under her breath.

Finally Natasha appears, looking exhausted but happy. “Wow, didn’t know I was getting a party,” she says fondly.

“Just wanted to treat you like you deserve,” Sharon grins.  “And we picked up a few strays.”

That, in contrast, makes Vanessa laugh.

“Nice job,” says Melinda, chuckling.

“Thanks.” Natasha does a little curtsy and then comes over to wrap around Sharon, who is closest. “I’m exhausted.”

Sharon hums happily and reaches to stroke Natasha’s hair.  “Makes sense, that must have taken a lot out of you,” she murmurs.

“I’ll be okay,” says Natasha, “but when we get home I’m not moving for a week.”

“Hear that, boys, more pampering up ahead,” Sharon chirps.

Bucky and Sam erupt into a series of exaggerated groans. “Do we _haaaaaave_ to?” whines Bucky, making his voice extra annoying.

“Yes,” says Natasha, and everyone can hear the grin in her voice even though she’s got her face buried in Sharon’s shirt.

“I’m impressed,” Vanessa croons.  “Although, I suppose a pretty ballerina would be the sort to get her own retinue of handsome serving boys.”

“That’s us,” Steve agrees cheerfully, oblivious to Coulson’s look of confusion.  “On that note, a little gift from us.”  As he grandly hands the box over.

Natasha looks up and smiles. “You shouldn’t have!” True to Bucky’s word, she rips off the paper enthusiastically and grins when she opens the box to reveal an assortment of chocolates. “You really, _really_ shouldn’t have, because I don’t have an excuse not to eat all of these anymore.”

“Aw, hush,” says Bucky. “You’ve earned it.” He comes over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Aren’t they darling?” Audrey murmurs, mostly to Vanessa.

“Sickeningly so,” Vanessa agrees.

Natasha leans over Sharon to kiss Bucky on the lips. “You’re sweet. I’ll keep you another week.”

“Thanks,” says Bucky with a grin. “Glad to hear it.”

“You about ready to go?” Steve asks Natasha, the implication being they all are.

She nods. “Nice seeing you, Mel. Coulson. Audrey, Vanessa, a pleasure.”

“Always,” Vanessa coos, and Audrey gives a little wave.


	54. circus of silence down at our feet, paper cut tigers starting to bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a community movie night, something takes a turn for the worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mild physical abuse and emotional abuse toward the end.

Angie settles against Peggy and grins. “This is nice and relaxing,” she says, surveying the crowd of people around them.

“Relaxing so long as nobody brought a child that’s going to start screaming,” Peggy quips, “but I think it’ll go smoothly. This is the sort of thing summer is supposed to be.” She tangles her fingers in Angie’s hair. “And it’s always nice having nights out with you.”

Humming happily, Angie closes her eyes for a minute, savoring Peggy’s hand in her hair. “It sure is. Plus. can’t go wrong with _Indiana Jones._ I mean, unless you throw Shia Labeouf in there, but.”

“Throwing Shia Labeouf in anything ruins it,” Peggy agrees almost cheerfully.

“Truer words were never spoken,” replies Angie with a grin. She’s quiet for a minute and then sits up and says, “Hey, there’s Sharon and her bunch!”

“Sharon!” Peggy shouts, waving at her niece and her niece’s entourage. “Just looking for a place to sit?” she asks when they approach.

“Yeah,” Sharon says. “We should have gotten here earlier, all of the five-person-blanket spots seem to be taken already.”

“Don’t lose hope,” Peggy says. “I’m sure you’ll find a place.”

Bucky grins. “We were only late because _someone_ made us wait.” He elbows Natasha.

“Please. Like you’ve never needed five minutes of privacy,” teases Natasha.

Sharon is clearly blushing, even in the fading light. “Yes, well,” she says in an attempt to change the subject.

“Hey, we saw you dance last week!” says Angie to Natasha. “Couldn’t stick around to say hi, but you were great.”

“Thank you.” Natasha smiles almost shyly. “ _Midsummer_ is a fun ballet.”

‘It looked like it,” Peggy declares. “It was gorgeous, all around. You’re quite something.”

“Isn’t she?” Sharon asks, squeezing Natasha’s hand.

“It’s good that there’s more than one performer in your guys’ little family,” Angie adds, winking at Steve. “Not that your turn on the stage wasn’t delightful.”

“You’re too much, Miss Mart - Angie,” Steve chuckles, sounding slightly nervous.

The other four are having reactions of varying intensity to Angie’s use of the word family: Sharon is silently stammering, somewhat shocked but not at all unpleasantly; Sam looks a bit surprised initially but then proud; and Bucky and Natasha are wearing nearly identical expressions that look not unlike they’ve been hit in the face with something and are processing it. No one’s really used _that_ word about them, at least not out loud. It’ll take some getting used to, the idea of it.

Then Bucky spots a group moving, leaving a good-sized space open. “Let’s go take that spot!” he says, eager to move past the awkward silence.

“Mind if we cut out?” Sharon asks sheepishly. “Better get it before someone else does.”

Angie chuckles - she noticed the awkwardness and doesn’t want to push it. “No, you kids have fun. We’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve says politely, waving.

Bucky gestures for them to follow him. “C’mon, Steve, you have the blanket.”

“Sure thing,” Steve says, unfolding and spreading their giant quilt. “Who gets first pick?”

“You could, big guy,” says Natasha, smirking. “You take up the most room.”

“I don’t see any of you complaining about the room I take up,” Steve counters cheerfully as he settles into the middle of the blanket with his legs out in front of him and pats the space beside him to invite the others.

Bucky and Natasha snicker as they snuggle in on either side of him. Sam, rolling his eyes affectionately, sits down on Bucky’s other side and starts to unpack the bag he has with him. “I brought veggie sticks and wheat thins with cheese dip,” he announces. “Not that I think any of y’all will actually eat any of it, but you can’t say I didn’t try.”

Sure enough, Bucky has pulled a can of Cheez Whiz out of his own bag and is leaning over Steve’s lap to squirt some directly into Natasha’s open mouth.

“I’ll have some veggie sticks,” Steve offers.

“Wheat thins sound okay,” Sharon, currently flopped over Natasha’s lap, declares.

“Thank you! Someone appreciates me.” Sam passes the food to both of them.

“Oh, it’s not that we don’t appreciate you,” replies Natasha, around some Cheez Whiz, “we just like this food better.”

“Damn straight,” Bucky says, popping a handful of Doritos into his mouth.

“Y’know, there’s a difference between liking that food better and being kind of gross about it,” Sharon says pointedly.

Natasha strokes her hair. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“Whipped,” coughs Bucky, but he looks sort of regretful when Natasha turns to glare at him.

“It is cute though,” Sam says, grinning. “None of the rest of us can get her to do anything. You’re magic, Carter.”’

“Well, I can’t say I’m _trying_ , but it’s a nice accident,” Sharon giggles.

 

* * *

 

“Not that I’m objecting to the movie itself, but why exactly are we here?” Fitz asks.

“Because it’s _Raiders of the Lost Ark_!” Skye replies.

Fitz blinks. “But you already own two copies of it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s _Raiders._ On a big screen! It’s important.” Skye adjusts her fedora.

“You look ridiculous, love,” Jemma says fondly.

“Ridiculously cute?” Skye asks, grinning.

“Maybe,” Jemma shrugs, letting her head loll against Skye’s shoulder. Her voice makes it pretty clear that she means maybe as a yes.

Skye hums contentedly and reaches up to stroke Jemma’s hair. “Back me up here, Bobbi. Important, right?”

“Oh, totally,” Bobbi agrees. “Some movies are made to be watched big. This is one of them.”

“And it’s nice out,” Trip adds. “Not too hot.”

Fitz sighs. “It is that, I guess.” He nuzzles into Trip.

“Besides, think about it this way,” Jemma says. “If we’re watching it in public in a crowd, Skye’s not likely to get up and start acting along.”

“You never know…” Skye flicks her whip.

Fitz groans. “Please, no.”

“Children, behave yourselves,” Bobbi says in an approximation of an authoritative voice.

Fitz snorts. “Yes, and where are your grown-up friends?” But he says it lightly.

“I assume Mack is off with Bruce being soppy,” Bobbi shrugs. “And odds are, same can be said for Isabelle and Victoria. Probably even soppier.”

“We’ve got more than enough of that,” says Trip cheerfully, petting down Fitz’s arm.

Skye’s looking around, not really for anyone but just people-watching, when she spots a familiar group not too far away. “Hey, it’s Steve and them!” she says, waving. “Hey, guys!”

Bobbi chuckles, but she’s the first one to join the waving, calling, “Nice pile, Romanov.”

“Right back at you,” says Natasha, smirking.

For a moment, Bobbi looks affronted, but given the way that Fitz is leaning against Trip’s chest sitting between his legs and Jemma is halfway in Skye’s lap while Skye is halfway in Bobbi’s, it’s a fair point.

Fitz, seeing Peter and Gwen amidst the sea of blankets, waves at them, and they wave back. “You ready for this?” Peter asks playfully.

“Not as if I haven’t seen it a dozen times already,” Fitz replies good-naturedly.

“Never enough times!” Gwen grins.

“Nothing like a good Nazi face-melting,” Jemma chirps.

“I don’t think anyone else could make the phrase ‘Nazi face-melting’ sound cute,” Bobbi says to Skye, looking amused.

Skye snickers. “That’s true,” she murmurs, nuzzling Jemma’s cheek.

They all had a couple beers before they walked down here, so Jemma is buzzed enough to happy-purr at that. “You’re both very sweet,” she declares.

Bobbi reaches to tousle Jemma’s hair. “Just telling it like it is,” she says.

Skye also waves when she sees Akela, sitting on a blanket with Matt, Karen, and Foggy and looking a bit out of place. It takes Akela a moment to notice her but eventually she gives a small smile and waves back. “ _Hi!_ ” Karen shouts, grinning.

“Hello!” Jemma calls back. “Would you like cookies? We brought cookies.” She gestures lazily to her side, where the plate is sitting.

Karen giggles. “We have cookies too,” she says. “Wanna trade?”

“I get the feeling you’ll need to come over here to do that,” Bobbi smirks.

“Hey, guys, I’m gonna go trade some cookies, okay?” Karen says to her group.

“Better bring back something _amazing_ ,” says Foggy, mock-sternly.

“I bet I will,” Karen retorts, skipping off to do just that.

Trip grins as she approaches. “Hey, girl! How you doing?”

Karen grins back. “I’m okay,” she says. “I’m just glad I could drag the boys away from studying for a night to have fun.”

“I know that feeling.” Trip ruffles Fitz’s hair affectionately. “This one’s a workaholic.”

“Jemma’s worse,” mumbles Fitz, but he doesn’t look too upset.

“Hey, she’s brilliant!” says Skye indignantly.

“I love it when you defend my honor,” Jemma croons. Then before she can get too ridiculous, she says to Karen, “Please, take as many cookies as you like. They’re just the confetti sort, we’ve been on a kick, but they’re rather delicious if I say so myself.”

Trip nods. “I second that. Jemma here’s getting the hang of food.”

“I won’t ask,” Karen teases, leaning down to start swapping some of the confetti cookies for her own. “Ours are chocolate chip, pretty standard too, and I don’t know why I’m saying ours because it’s not like Matt or Foggy helped me make them, but - yeah.”

Skye shrugs and reaches for one. “Don’t care, it’s sugar.”

“Thanks for sharing,” Bobbi adds politely before she goes for a cookie herself.

“‘Course!” Karen says. The sound system starts to rumble to life, which makes her giggle and exclaim, “Movie’s starting! See you guys!”

“See you,” Jemma replies cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I like this movie, but I could’ve done without the face-melting,” murmurs Ward as he strokes Kara’s hair.

“That is a bit graphic,” Kara agrees softly, for entirely different reasons.

“Oh, I meant because I feel sorry for the guy. You know? Solidarity and all.”

Kara opens her mouth to reply, but it gets caught in her throat, so she fakes a cough and nods.

“Like I know what they were going for, but the villain characters are just written so lazily…”

A faint buzzing sounds from Kara’s purse, and immediately she sits up straight and starts feeling around for it, rummaging blindly in her bag. “Oh, crap,” she mumbles, because - well, she doesn’t know who’s calling but it could be someone important, right? She pulls the phone out while it’s still going off and looks about to answer it when Ward puts his hand over hers. “Can I finish?” he asks, frowning.

“I - I just ought to see if this is important,” she mumbles.

“More important than me?” he asks, managing somehow to look both pissed off and petulant at the same time.

“No!” she shouts, loud enough that someone nearby shushes her. “No, but it - it might be work, or my parents, or…”

“Why would work be calling you this late?” he counters. “And your parents usually text, don’t they?”

“Well, if it was an emergency…” She trails off helplessly, averting her eyes.

“Even emergencies can wait a few minutes,” Ward says, tugging at the phone until she lets go of it.

Instinctively, Kara frantically grabs at her phone, not even thinking about what she’s doing; Ward grabs her wrist and wrenches it away, saying in a harsher tone, “Kara, stop it.”

“That hurt,” she whispers.

There’s a cough from behind them. Ward turns to see Akela, holding something that gleams in the moonlight. She tilts it so he can clearly see it’s a knife. “Don’t do that again,” she says quietly.

He snorts. It’s too absurd to be frightening. “You think you can do damage with that?” The knife’s not very long at all; it looks like a pocketknife.

“I do.” Her intensity is more intimidating than the knife, really.

Kara lets out a squeak.

“Please take your hand off of her.”

He chuckles. “Or what?”

“Or I will make you sorry you didn’t listen to me.” And she moves the knife so it’s just touching his forearm.

“Please,” Kara murmurs, reaching as if to touch Akela and then pulling back nervously, “please, it’s all right, just go.”

Akela frowns. “I’m not comfortable leaving you alone with him.”

Kara shakes her head. “It’s fine, really, I just set him off. It’s all right.”

“Everything’s fine here,” says Ward smoothly. “You can go now.”

Akela shakes her head. “I don’t believe you, but I’ll go.” She shoots one last glare at Ward before standing up and walking off.

Kara, meanwhile, is suddenly very glad that it’s dark, because she’s positive she’s blushing, although she’s not entirely sure why.

Ward sighs. “It would be nice if people would mind their own business.”

“Yes,” Kara murmurs, even though it comes out sounding small and unsure.

He puts his arm around her again, pulling her close to him. She goes stiff for a second, then, almost like she’s willing herself to, leans into him as comfortably as she can.

 

* * *

 

When Akela storms back to her group, Matt’s the first one to notice her. “Your breathing is faster than usual and you’re fidgeting with your knife,” he murmurs once she sits down, “what happened?”

“Ward,” she hisses.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Karen asks, voice low and angry.

“I didn’t see all of it, but he was holding onto Kara’s wrist very tightly, keeping her from taking her phone back,” Akela says, or maybe growls. “I threatened him with the knife, but she asked me to go.”

“Shit,” gasps Foggy.

“Shit is right,” Karen agrees solemnly.

“He’s still with her?” asks Matt.

Akela sighs. “Unfortunately. I couldn’t convince her to leave.”

“Maybe she’s afraid to?” Karen suggests, sounding utterly saddened by the prospect.

“It would make sense,” says Matt. “He’s got all those Nazi friends, who knows what they’d do if she tried to leave when he didn’t want her to.” He’s gripping his cane tightly. “Karen, when we get home can you play me the audio of him talking again?”

“Of course,” Karen murmurs. It’s not as if she’s particularly keen on listening to that again, it’s like dialogue from a bad dubious-consent porno made even more horrible by the fact that it’s real, but she understands, or she thinks she does, why Matt is asking to hear it.

“I have to be able to find him,” explains Matt after a moment.

“For what?” Akela asks.

Matt smirks. “Wouldn’t you rather be able to say, ‘No officer, I don’t know why my friend is in jail’?”

“No.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh no,” says Foggy. “Should I call Claire?”

“I don’t think that’d stop him,” Karen quips.

“I know,” Foggy sighs, “but I feel like I have to say it anyway.”

“I think I’m offended.” Matt grins.

“Whatever your plan is, I think you had better put it into action soon,” says Akela.


	55. I should have seen you coming in, should recognize the signs a wave's gonna break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt decides he's had enough of Ward's behavior and decides to take matters into his own hands; he recounts the story to his friends at a bar later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: evidence of abuse, manipulative behavior, ableist language, violence.

It’s one of those nights that feels like it’s going to stand out, even if the why isn’t exactly clear. The sky’s finally surrendered to nighttime dark, the rain is hitting the pavement and the windows with steady precision, and everyone in this bar seems heightened somehow, like they’re a very certain version of themselves.

Everyone in this bar: a few randoms in the back, loitering around the pool table none of them are actually playing with; Nebula and Carina at one end of the counter dressed like they’ve come from therapy (Nebula decidedly underperforming in her laziest ripped-up jeans, Carina overperforming in a go-to-meeting dress) and working on, respectively, an Irish Car Bomb and a Campari and gin; Mike and Gamora at the other end of the counter, talking casually like Gamora’s younger sister isn’t chaperoning them.

“Yeah, I was kinda glad when Ace asked to go over to Franklin’s house tonight,” Mike says. “I love him, I’m always happy to hang out with him, but he probably needs friends other than his dad.”

“Hey, of course you’re happy to hang out with him, you’re not a neglectful piece of shit,” Gamora shrugs, tone dry. “Good of you to at least give him the option of your friendship.”

Mike chuckles darkly. “Yeah, been there, done that. Didn’t like it. Wanted to do it better when it was my choice to make.”

Oblivious to the way she can practically hear Nebula rolling her eyes, Gamora says, “That’s very noble of you.”

He shrugs and smiles a bit shyly. “Just trying to do the right thing. You, uh, you sound like you know what that’s like too.”

She makes a face. “Shitty dads are a thing I’ve got some experience with, yes,” she says. “Did you have to legally emancipate from yours?”

Blinking, Mike’s quiet a moment. “No. God, that’s…” He’s not sure what to say, so he just trails off.

“I’m sure every word you’re thinking about finishing that sentence with is true,” Gamora smirks. “True, or likely an understatement.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, because there’s nothing else to say to that.

“Small mercies, at least he wasn’t a biological parent,” she shrugs, casual as can be. “Any character flaws I picked up along the way are an easier-to-fix nurture and not nature.”

Mike nods. “There is that. You sure don’t seem like an asshole.” He grins, trying for playful.

“It takes conscious effort some days,” she deadpans. “But I would never want to give the bastard the benefit of the doubt, however indirectly.”

That makes Mike laugh. “Well, I think you’re doing a pretty good job, all things considered.”

Nebula groans “ _Oh my goooooooodddddd_ ” and slides off her barstool.

“What?” Carina asks, grabbing her drink before she follows.

“They’re driving me nuts,” says Nebula, “plus Gamora’s talking about Dad and she never does that and it’s weird.”

Carina frowns. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It must be upsetting. You almost never call him ‘Dad’ anymore.”

Nebula makes a face. “Yeah, I dunno. It’s been a weird night.” She downs the rest of her drink and strides over to Gamora. “What’s making you talk about Asshole?”

Gamora falters for a second. Now that it’s being pointed out to her she realizes how strange it must sound, freely discussing the man they both agreed that the less said of him the better. “We were just discussing parenting styles,” she concludes. “You and I have the best example - one of the best examples - of what not to do, after all.”

Snorting, Nebula nods. “Yeah. Good riddance.”

Carina raises her glass cheerily. “May all the asshole adult male authority figures rot in hell,” she chirps.

“Damn straight,” says Nebula. “But hey, therapy sucks but I got something out of it.” She reaches over to grab Carina’s hand.

Carina giggles proudly. “That’s very true.”

Before any of them can say anything more, the front door slams open. Matt stumbles in, leaning on a tall brunette woman and looking as if he’s been chewed up and spat back out by a large, angry dog. They make their way to the counter and the woman helps him settle onto a stool.

“What the fuck happened to _you_?” Nebula demands.

Matt grins. He’s got at least one black eye and a split lip. “You should see the other guy.”

“For once that’s applicable,” says the woman. “Matt really fucked him up.”

“Shit!” comes Karen’s voice from the back of the bar, and she and Foggy pull themselves out of the faceless crowd to see what the matter could be. “Shit, Matt. Did you…?”

Matt nods. “Yup. He won’t be doing much for a week at least.”

“Jesus,” says Foggy, reaching out gently to touch Matt’s shoulder as if he might break him. “Let’s, uh. Let’s…” He waves at the bartender. “Josie, could we, uh, maybe clear off a table for my friend here? He’s, uh, he’s not having a great day.”

She smirks. “Fine by me.”

After that’s done, Foggy and Karen help Matt onto it, trying to be as gentle as possible (and Matt gamely trying not to wince). “So what happened?” Karen asks, sounding more curious than concerned (though there’s a fair bit of both).

“Yeah, why does she know what’s going on and I don’t?” Foggy asks, sounding horrified.

“Well,” says Matt with a half-hearted smirk, “here’s why…”

 

* * *

 

“Karen, have you heard from Kara today?”

Karen frowns. “Lemme check my phone and see if she’s miraculously texted in the last minute and a half,” she mutters. “Nope.”

Irani mirrors Karen’s frown. “Not like her not to call in if she’s anticipating being late. Perhaps you ought to send her a text?”

“Already have,” Karen sighs. “Twice. I’m really worried.”

“Hm. Call her?” Irani’s trying to maintain her collected demeanor, but the crease between her eyes gives her away.

Karen nods and dials, chewing on her lip as she listens to the ringer. And listens, and listens, and is finally greeted with a robotic answering machine message. “Shit,” she mumbles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all inappropriate-language.”

Irani snorts. “Please, Karen. We’re all adults here.” She smiles kindly at her.

“Well, yeah, but… workplace, and stuff,” Karen sighs. “Professionalism.” She shrugs. It sounded like a better reason in her head.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late,” Kara exclaims, bustling through the door. “One of those mornings.”

“It’s all right,” says Irani. “No harm done. Are you? All right, that is?”

Kara looks up to smile at Irani, but there’s an obvious bruise on the side of her throat. “I’m fine!” she says brightly. “Just a little flustered. One thing after another.”

Irani purses her lips. “Uh huh. Well, if you’re really sure?”

Kara nods a bit too quickly, unthinkingly touches first the bruise and then her hair. “I promise.”

Frantically, Karen signals Irani’s attention, making a face and mouthing “you’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”

Mouth still a tight line, Irani nods decisively.

“Hey,” Karen murmurs, trying for soothing, “you know if, uh, something wasn’t cool you could tell us? We’re your friends.”

“Oh!” Kara exclaims, looking startled. It’s always different to hear someone say that than to think it yourself. “I…” She looks about to confess something when she thinks better of it and shakes her head. “I know. But I’m all right. Are you worried about this?” She motions to the bruise.

“Yeah,” Karen says. “Yeah, I am.”

Irani nods. “As am I.”

“I was wondering if you might be,” Kara says cheerfully. “Grant said you’d worry, too. But I promise I just - just fell down.”

“On your neck?” Irani asks, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

“Hitting the corner of…” Kara trails off, shrugging. It’s not the most unconvincing story, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Matt’s interrupted in his story when a loud voice booms, “Matt! I did not know you had a fight scheduled for this evening! I would have gone to cheer for you!”

It’s Drax, who appears to have had several drinks already, given the unsteady way he lumbers over to the group. He grins down at Matt. “You look as if it was quite a challenge!”

“No, you idiot, he didn’t go cagefighting tonight,” says Nebula. “He was telling us what _actually_ happened.”

“Oh! My apologies, I shall let you continue, Matt. After I say hello to everyone! Nebula, Carina, Gamora, Mike, Karen, Foggy, and...you I have never met before!” Drax extends his hand to the woman who carried Matt inside. “My name is Drax!”

Eyes wide, she shakes his hand. “Jen Walters. I, uh, go to school with Matt and Foggy.”

“Ah, a lawyer! You must be very intelligent. Anyhow, Matt, please continue with your story! I shall listen as I get another drink.” Drax ambles off towards the counter.

“I’m sure you’re used to those interruptions by now,” Gamora chuckles in Matt’s direction.

Matt shrugs and then looks as if he regrets it. “He’s okay, you just have to know how to handle him. Where was I?”

 

* * *

 

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Karen hisses. She and Irani are shut up in Irani’s private back office, conferring.

Irani frowns. “While I agree, I’m not sure there is anything we _can_ do. Legally. We have no proof that anything untoward is happening.”

“She’s got bruises on her goddamn neck!” Karen exclaims. “That’s exactly what he did to -”

“I know,” sighs Irani. “I know it as well as you do. But we don’t have _proof,_ Karen, just suspicion. We’ll be laughed out of the police station.”

“Akela saw him at it the other night,” Karen insists.

“And I believe you. But the authorities, sadly, won’t.” Irani shakes her head. “The law is not on our side at the moment.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Karen sighs.

Sighing again, Irani says, “Yes, but I have it on good authority that at least a few Hydra members are officers, though I’m not sure which ones. I’ve never had particular cause to fear the police, but I do now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Karen mutters. “So there’s not a damn thing…”

“Not really. Unless you happen to be acquaintances with someone who fancies themselves a vigilante.” Irani’s tone is sarcastic.

Karen raises an eyebrow. “Uh, I need to check on something,” she says, suddenly struck with an idea. “And we probably shouldn’t be back here whispering all day.”

“Please. Nicholas is the only one who could even think about chastising me,” says Irani with a roll of her eyes. “But the appearance of productivity is important.”

“Yeah,” Karen mumbles. “Thanks for talkin’ with me, Irani.” She hurries out to her desk, where she immediately picks up her phone.

>> _MATT CALL ME RIGHT AWAY_

It takes a couple of minutes, but soon enough her phone’s ringing. “Hi!” she croons, like nothing is the matter. She covers the mouthpiece with her hand and calls out, “Irani, personal thing, back in a sec,” before hurrying out of the office and down the corridor, searching for the quietest alcove she can find. “Hi, Matt. It’s an emergency.”

“So I’d assumed,” he says. “What is it?”

“What do you think?” she asks, sounding on the verge of tears.

“What did he do?” Matt says, or growls.

“She showed up this morning, like twenty minutes late mind you, with a fucking bruise on her _neck,_ ” Karen whisper-shouts. “Played it off like she’d just fallen down, but c’mon.”

Matt’s quiet for a long moment. “You can’t tell Foggy about this.”

“I won’t!” she exclaims. “I won’t. What’s _this_?”

Another pause. “You know, Karen.”

“You’re… I mean, you’d really…”

“Do you want to know?”

“I just wanna know why, I guess,” she murmurs. “I mean, you barely know her.”

“But you do,” he says. “And I can’t let him get away with this.”

“Thank you,” she says, because that’s all that needs to be said.

“Of course.” He’s quiet. “Do you need anything else, Karen?”

“Not right now,” she says. “This is more than enough. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

This time the story is interrupted by the sound of shattering glass, and everyone listening looks around to see where it came from.

Which turns out to be Carina, staring at her hands and the shattered glass in them with wide, helpless eyes. “Oh,” she whispers.

“You all right?” asks Nebula, sounding more concerned than she has the entire evening.

“I broke my glass,” Carina mumbles, as if that’s an answer to the question.

Nebula understands that what she’s not saying is something like “hearing all of this is just a repeat of what that asshole did to Raina and thinking about that makes me so furious and I shouldn’t let myself get that way because this happens, but I can’t help it” and she lays a hand on Carina’s shoulder and grunts, “Anyone wanna help her out?”

“I can,” says Mike. “Got a good amount of first aid training. Someone want to see if Josie’s got any band-aids?”

“I will!” says Drax cheerfully. “And while I am there I will ask her for another drink!”

While they’re waiting on him, Nebula spits, “I fucking _hate_ him. Please tell me this story ends with him gutted like a fish.”

“We’re getting there,” replies Matt with a smile.

 

* * *

 

“You’re lucky I needed a new bookshelf anyway, Murdock.” Jen’s rolling her eyes as she pulls into the IKEA parking lot.

Matt pulls what he thinks might be an innocent face. “I don’t know what you mean, Jen.”

“Naturally.” After she parks, they get out of the car and, once they’re inside, she asks, “Do you have like a sixth sense for assholes or do we actually have to walk around the entire store looking for him?”

“Karen said he works in the bedroom department,” Matt says. “Let’s head there first.”

“Swear to god if we don’t actually get my bookshelf, I will stick you with all the worst topics in debate.”

They only have to search for a minute or two before Matt stiffens, and Jen spots a guy who matches the descriptions she’s heard from Karen. Plus, he’s wearing the telltale Under Armor with his uniform. “Go on, try it out,” he’s saying to the pretty twenty-something who’s enlisted his help. “It’s very comfortable. I’d know.” He’s practically leering.

Jen makes a disgusted noise. “I hate him already.”

“Yeah, he’s very good at that,” agrees Matt. “Do you see Kara anywhere? Karen mentioned she usually takes lunch about this time.”

At that point, Kara comes through the front door, smiling (if shakily) and waving. “Hey, Grant,” she calls.

“Oh hey, baby,” he says, but he sounds vaguely distracted (and is still leering at the other girl, even though she’s walked away).

“I’m off,” she informs him, though that’s obvious.

“Yeah, I get off soon too. Hey, how about you go get me a coffee?” Ward rummages around in his pockets before pulling out a wad of bills and offering them to her. “Neapolitan frappucino, you know how I like it.”

Kara nods seriously. “I’ll try to be quick,” she assures him, though she doesn’t yet head off. Instead she just stares at him expectantly, like a needy puppy.

Ward stares back for a moment before rolling his eyes a bit and leaning down to give her the world’s most condescending kiss. It apparently satisfies her, because she beams and starts in the direction of the door.

“Okay, I’m gonna follow her,” murmurs Jen. “You’ll be okay?”

Matt replies “Yes” in the steeliest tone possible, and, after one more glance at him, Jen heads off after Kara.

Matt busies himself with pretending to inspect the bedframes, while he’s actually listening acutely to Ward’s every movement. When Ward finally heads for the exit a few minutes later, Matt’s on his tail.

Ward’s almost to his car when Matt calls out, “Hey, asshole. Let’s talk.”

“Sorry?” Ward asks, pausing.

“Oh, I wanted to talk to you. About Kara. About what you’re doing to her.” Matt leans on his cane, hoping maybe it will make Ward assume he’s weaker.

“And how would _you_ know any of this?” Ward scoffs. “You’re not just wearing those sunglasses to look cool, are you? You’re blind as a bat.”

“Well now, that’s a little rude,” replies Matt. “Point of fact, I am. You might call me justice.” He winces. “God, that was terrible, I’m sorry. Too far.”

“Don’t tell me, you’re here to beat me up just like those dykes.”

“I am,” says Matt, and swings his cane so that it smacks Ward in the ribs.

Which causes him to make an _oomph_ noise, but Matt’s not quite ready for the punch to his own stomach. “Look, freak,” hisses Ward, “I _usually_ do my best not to hit cripples but for you I’m gonna make an exception.”

Matt grunts and takes the opportunity while he’s bent double to headbutt Ward, which seems to send him reeling back. “I’m honored,” he spits, then throws a punch and hopes it’ll connect in the general area of Ward’s face.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t exactly give you a play-by-play,” says Matt, grinning, “but you get the idea.”

Nebula looks a bit disappointed at not having a detailed description of violence against Ward.

“Yes,” chimes in Jen, “and then I found him…”

 

* * *

 

“Jesus christ, Matt!”

Matt groans half-heartedly. “Jen?”

“You weren’t supposed to get the shit kicked out of you too!” she scolds, kneeling down next to him. “Can you stand?”

“...........maybe?”

She sighs. “Okay. Hang on.” Gingerly, she helps him to his feet, which seems easier said than done since he keeps wincing, and they hobble to Jen’s car together. Ward’s unconscious form is still on the pavement.

“Fuck, is he gonna wake up?” Jen asks.

“Oh, probably,” says Matt with a weak shrug. “Not sure exactly what happened there, I basically just kept hitting until he stopped moving.”

“ _God._ Get in.” Jen helps him into the passenger seat and then gets in, turning the car on. “You look like shit.”

“Had worse.”

“Do you still want me to take you straight to the bar or…?”

“No doctors,” he groans. “I know someone, she...she’s got training, she…”

“Your fuckbuddy? I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to have you turn up at 10 PM on a weeknight,” snarks Jen.

But Matt’s already wrestling his phone out of his pocket and accessing directions. “She’ll be in the campus clinic tonight,” he says.

“If you say so,” replies Jen.

It’s a slow night in the clinic, slow enough that Helen is actually considering paying attention to whatever 90s sitcom rerun is playing on the old “waiting room” TV. Nobody’s been in for nearly an hour, not even a midweek drunk yelling about an exam (even in the summer, Claire has attested, those are their most likely clients). So it’s something of a shock when a man, graduate student-aged if a student at all, stumbles through the door bleeding in at least twenty places.

“Claire?” Helen calls out, sounding mildly alarmed.

“Oh my god,” gasps Claire, because she recognizes him immediately. “ _Matt?_ ”

He lifts his head and grins and, yup, it’s Matt. “Hey.”

“Get - get into a room _now!_ ” she barks, training overriding the million questions she has. “Helen, go get the drugs!”

“Those drugs?” Helen asks, startled. “The _drugs_?”

“What’s this about drugs?” Jen chimes in, looking alarmed.

“Painkillers,” says Claire, who’s started herding Matt towards an examination room. “He needs them, for the immediate pain as well as for the stitches he’ll be getting.”

Helen ducks behind the reception desk and starts fiddling with a refrigerated safe.

“How’s your evening been?” Matt murmurs as Claire settles him onto an operating table.

“Shut up,” she replies, almost fondly. “What happened?” This question is directed at Jen, who’s paused in the doorway.

“Take a guess,” says Jen, almost cheerfully.

“Swear to God, Murdock, if you don’t stop this vigilante bullshit I will drop-kick you into next year.”

 

* * *

 

“Well done!” says Drax. “I would like to buy you alcohol as reward for a job well done.”

“That’s a terrible idea!” Karen squeaks.

“Why? It will dull his pain and make him feel comfortable.”

“Claire didn’t _say_ no drinks,” chimes in Matt.

Karen rolls her eyes. “What do I know,” she sighs.

Drax beams. “Very well! I shall be back. Is vodka acceptable?” Off Matt’s nod, he ambles over to the bar.

“And a Manhattan for me!” calls Jen.

Foggy reaches over to put his hand on Matt’s arm. “You gotta stop scaring me,” he says fondly, pressing a quick kiss to Matt’s forehead. “I pride myself on my luscious locks and if they turn grey then I won’t have anything.”

Matt chuckles. “You don’t have anything now.”

“Really, though,” Karen murmurs, somewhere between playful and serious.

“I wanted him to stop,” says Matt, serious again. “He won’t be hurting anyone for a while.”

“And remember, I was just driving my friend around,” Jen says with a wry smile. “I didn’t see anything.”


	56. you sound like thunder though you've barely spoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a truth universally agreed upon that children are loud and annoying; also, several relationships progress.

“I am never happier to work in a store that might as well have an ‘adults only’ sign on the door than I am when it’s back to school season,” Victoria murmurs, sipping her coffee.

Bobbi nods. “I consider myself lucky to have avoided having to do that dance,” she agrees. “I bet it’s sweeter having been on the other side, though.”

“You don’t know hell until you’ve seen fits getting pitched over fancy gel pens or calculators,” Victoria declares. “Things like ‘but Mom, everyone _else_ is going to have a cool binder! Why do I have to get this stupid plain one?’ at the top of adolescent lungs.”

“Yikes,” Bobbi says, drawing in a hiss of breath through her teeth. “That’s the worst.”

“But it’s over now,” Victoria chirps. “And the only tears I have to witness anymore are happy ones. Which are moderately more tolerable.”

“You don’t have to play hard-hearted for me,” Bobbi reminds. “Hey, so how’s those plans for you two to move in together?”

“I wasn’t aware there were such things,” Victoria says coolly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re aware,” Bobbi chides. “It’s really a waste of money for the two of you to be living apart at this point, isn’t it? Considering you’re snuggling at one of your places or the other every damn night.”

Victoria flushes, but she doesn’t say anything lest she incriminate herself. (This is something of a trick on Bobbi’s part, actually managing to get Victoria second-guessing herself, but all things considered it makes sense that it’s a trick she’s able to pull.)

“And the sooner you move in, the sooner you can get to the fun stuff,” Bobbi continues. “Between your discount and the ones I’d naturally give you, you’re going to have a practically free wedding waiting for you.”

“Excuse _me_ ,” Victoria exclaims. “Aren’t you the one who judges people for getting married too quickly?”

“Sweetie, I’ve seen you two,” Bobbi says with a roll of her eyes, and she weights the words so they clearly don’t just mean seen them holding hands. “It’s not too quickly. Trust me on this.”

Before Victoria can respond, Natasha approaches and throws herself in one of their spare chairs. “Kill me,” she groans, pillowing her forehead on her arms.

“And get rid of one of the semi-tolerable people here?” Victoria asks. “Never.”

“What’s the matter?” Bobbi asks, attempting sympathy and somewhat succeeding.

“Children,” sighs Natasha, lifting up her head. “Back to school sales are among the worst inventions of humankind.”

“Is the back of your store totally trashed?” Victoria asks.

Nodding wearily, Natasha says, “It looks like a natural disaster’s come through. Which isn’t necessarily incorrect.”

“How many screaming fits have you witnessed?” Bobbi asks.

“Five. At least one from a kid who was way too old for it.” Shaking her head, Natasha adds, “If I ever say anything that might possibly sound like I want kids, please punch me in the face.”

Victoria and Bobbi smirk at each other. “I make no promises,” Bobbi says smugly.

“Shut the fuck up,” replies Natasha, but there’s not really any bite to it.

“I didn’t really say anything,” Bobbi laughs. “Just that I’m not keen on punching one of my dear friends in the face.”

“Well, you probably won’t have to. I just want to have a failsafe.”

“Can I settle for punching you somewhere your boyfriend won’t have to administer cover-up just to keep up appearances?” Bobbi asks.

Natasha chuckles. “That’s fine, I guess. Somewhere it’ll hurt, though. Maybe my ovary, to remind me what a bad idea that is.”

Victoria smirks. “I doubt you have to worry about popping them out yourself,” she drawls. Considering she’s met Sharon, she can guess who’d be the more likely candidate in their current arrangement.

“Well, anyway. I want to be absolutely sure.” Natasha smirks. “Good thing you two were here. Sam and Steve don’t show up for two hours so I’ve got no one to rant at.”

“I doubt Steve would be a very sympathetic ranting partner in this case,” Victoria observes.

“Well, no, but he’d listen. Knowing you guys agree is nicer though.”

“What a bonding moment,” Victoria declares. “I’ve got time for another horrible story before I have to get back to work, if you need to whine about something.”

Natasha blinks. “Have I stumbled into some parallel dimension? Is Victoria Hand offering to be a sympathetic listener? I almost feel like I need to go douse my head in cold water so I’ll wake up.”

“I know how terrible children can be,” Victoria retorts. “That’s all.” It isn’t, of course, all - she’s increasingly apt to sympathetic listening these days and everyone knows why - but should anyone mention it it would be at their own peril.

“Uh huh.” Grinning, Natasha glances over at Bobbi, who just shrugs with a pretended innocence and holds back a smirk. Natasha rolls her eyes. “So there was this family of four…”

 

* * *

 

“ _MOMMMMMMMM,_ you bought Jake all those clothes! I want that!”

“No, I told you, that’s too much money!”

“But it’s not _fair!”_

Hope sighs, placing a hand over the mouthpiece on the phone. “Tony, do you mind dealing with that?”

“Um. Yes?” Tony gives her his best shocked puppy look.

“I’m on the phone with the district manager,” she says, as if he needs the reason.

“Yeah, but I make it a top priority not to interact with kids. It’s not good for my complexion.”

“I don’t see why you’d say that,” she drawls. “You speak the same language.” With that, she turns to her phone call, putting her back to the child and Tony very pointedly.

Tony pouts. “I think I’m insulted by that. I have a much better vocabulary and I’m capable of higher reasoning. Have been since I was five.” He’s about to start off on another verbal rabbit trail, but Hope glares at him over her shoulder, and he sighs and goes to deal with the unruly kid.

Who has progressed to crocodile tears at this point. “You never buy me anything!” he wails.

“Hey, hey, what’s the problem here?” asks Tony, trying for an upbeat tone like they use on _Sesame Street._ Not that Tony watches _Sesame Street_ anymore. Except sometimes when he can’t sleep and his dad’s gone. But nobody needs to know about that.

The mother gives him an embarrassed smile. “My son’s just disappointed because we can’t buy that really cool robot. I’m sorry for causing a disruption.”

Tony glances over at the Steady-Cam drone - it’s not a robot, but he’s not going to bother correcting her - and nods. “That is pretty cool, right? I definitely would’ve wanted one when I was your age,” he says, trying to talk over the kid’s sobbing. “But I don’t think my dad would’ve bought it for me either. Or maybe he would’ve, I dunno. Point is, sometimes we can’t have what we want, and that sucks. But that just means we have to find other ways of getting it. Do you get an allowance?”

“I get a dollar when I do all my chores every week,” sniffles the kid.

“Okay, so let’s do some math. This thing costs about $1400, plus about $122 sales tax, that’s $1512. Do you know how many weeks in a year yet, are you old enough to be in school?”

The kid looks confused. “I know how to count to a hundred?”

“Okay, so most of this is gonna go over your head. I’ll write it down.” Tony ambles over to the cash register and grabs a spare sticky note off the counter. “So there are 52 weeks in a year, for future reference. If you save that dollar every week, it will take you...wow, 29 years, that seems overly long to wait. Good news is, kid, that I bet you get Christmas presents, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I bet if you told your grandparents that you’d rather have a $20 bill than a new toy, they’d be thrilled. So supposing you do that, and maybe you throw in some extra cash from doing neighborhood chores and whatever, and assuming your allowance goes up once you hit puberty...you could own this thing as soon as sixteen.”

The boy’s eyes are wide. “That’s so old!”

“Trust me, kid. Sixteen’s not gonna feel old when you get there.” Tony hands his mom the sticky note. “Um, I guess you should hold onto this? Sorry, math is kinda my thing.”

The mom’s looking a little shocked herself. “O-of course!” she says, stuffing it into her purse. “What do you say to the nice helpful man, Pierre?”

“Thank you,” says the boy, still looking shell-shocked. Probably no one had ever tried to math him out of crying before. Tony feels a bit smug.

As Pierre and his mother turn to leave the store, Tony turns around to head back inside to the safety of the back office and sees Hope, nodding slowly with one eyebrow raised.

“That didn’t entirely suck,” she declares, sounding surprised.

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t entirely suck. Or I do, but in, y’know, the nice way.” He smirks.

She rolls her eyes. “One, that hasn’t stopped being sexual harassment since the last time I pointed that out,” she says. “Two, it’s especially unwelcome because you’re perfectly aware that I have no interest in guys.” The store is all but empty now, so having this discussion quietly is acceptable.

“Not even a little bit?” he wheedles. “I’m a catch.”

“Unfortunately for you, I had my straightcurious phase in college,” she deadpans.

“Ooh, clever. Well played. Your loss.” He shrugs.

“And hypothetically someone else’s gain,” she says. She’s feeling generous.

“What’s someone else’s gain?” a new voice calls. Rhodey strolls into the store. “‘sup, Tony?”

“Hey!” Tony grins. “Oh, just averted a minor crisis with a screaming child, you know, normal stuff.”

“Really? You?” Rhodey turns to Hope. “Can you confirm that? I don’t know if I believe this liar here.”

“Shockingly he’s telling the truth,” Hope says. “I’m not sure how it happened, although I suspect the kid might have just been too stunned to keep carrying on.”

“Still. Nice work.” Rhodey returns Tony’s grin. “You wanna grab lunch?”

“If boss lady will let me off,” says Tony, giving Hope a beseeching look.

Hope checks her watch perfunctorily. “Go,” she sighs, waving him off. “At least I trust your babysitter.”

Rhodey laughs. “Thanks for the confidence, Van Dyne. C’mon, Tony, my treat.”

“Ooh, I never turn down free food.” Tony follows him out.

 

* * *

 

“It’s open, come in!” Victoria shouts from the back of her apartment. She knows who’s knocking.

Isabelle does so, following Victoria’s voice to the bedroom, where she finds her girlfriend stripping. “Well, this is a pleasant sight,” she smirks.

“This is the sight of someone who desperately needs to be wearing pajamas,” Victoria retorts smugly, setting her dirty clothes on the bed and reaching for exactly that.

“Well, it’s still nice.” Isabelle walks over to put her arms around Victoria. “Long day?”

“Annoyingly so,” Victoria agrees, leaning into Isabelle’s touch. “Even the distant screams of school-shopping children start to grate on a girl after a while.”

“Ah yes. I’m eternally grateful for the lack of children at the gym.” Isabelle reaches to pet Victoria’s hair. “Poor thing.”

“I didn’t even have to see them in my store,” Victoria continues. “They just create an energy through the entire mall that’s thoroughly unpleasant.”

Isabelle nods. “Good thing we won’t have to worry about that.”

“Even if I hadn’t already been remarkably gay, the possibility of an accidental baby would have convinced me,” Victoria declares.

Snorting, Isabelle grins. “Yeah, casual sex is a lot easier in high school when you don’t have to worry about anyone getting pregnant.” She presses a kiss to Victoria’s shoulder. “Let’s sit down.”

“Sure,” Victoria says. “That sounds sort of serious.”

“Not in a bad way, I don’t think,” replies Isabelle, leading her out to the living room. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking a little about us and I was wondering if you’d thought about moving in together?”

“Of course I have,” Victoria says. “We’ve sort of touched on the subject, haven’t we?”

Isabelle nods. “Yes, but. Do you wanna move in with me?” She blinks. “Actually, now that I think about it, your place is much nicer than mine. So I’m probably asking the wrong question here.”

Victoria laughs. “Well, my place does actually look like I give a shit,” she teases. “And it’s actually big enough for two people to live comfortably.”

“Hey now,” says Isabelle playfully. “I haven’t needed much room.”

“I guess I was just thinking ahead without knowing it,” Victoria counters smugly.

Isabelle can’t help but lean over and kiss her. “So that’s a yes to my horribly awkward question?”

“That’s a definite yes,” Victoria murmurs. “I would like nothing more than for you to move in with me. In my decently-sized apartment.”

Isabelle snorts. “You’re a brat.”

“Yes, but so are you and you think it’s cute,” Victoria says.

“True.” Isabelle pulls Victoria closer. “Now. How about we celebrate this new stage of our relationship?”

 

* * *

 

“And god, I don’t know who thought it would be a bright idea to combine their adult daughter’s wedding dress shopping with their elementary-aged daughter’s back to school shopping, but I highly doubt they’ll make that mistake twice,” Bobbi declares.

Skye winces. “Yikes. Kid was less than into it, I bet.”

“Oh, neither of them were into it,” Bobbi smirks. “If there’s one day you can count on a fully grown woman to need as much attention as a child, it’s the day she’s wedding dress shopping. Meltdowns all around. Though at least the grown-up’s was quieter.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jemma declares.

“It’s nothing unusual,” Bobbi shrugs. “The bride meltdown, at least. I can handle those. Child meltdowns are louder and much more… I don’t know. Messy.”

Skye laughs. “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me. I got my fair share as a kid. They’re a pain in the ass to deal with.”

“And you can reason with an adult,” Bobbi adds. “Most of the time. Brides get upset and then you talk to them and they calm down. Children get upset and who the hell knows how long it will last or if there’s any rescuing the day.”

“That’s true, at least some of the time,” Jemma agrees, chuckling. “Apparently Fitz was a disaster of a child, always disrupting something or another if he couldn’t get his way. I’ve heard so many stories from his mum.”

“Well, _that_ makes sense.” Skye grins and adds, “Not that I was any better. But hey, I’ve got an excuse.”

Jemma shakes her head and leans over to kiss Skye, which prompts Bobbi to grin and remark, “You guys are gross.”

“Damn right we are,” says Skye cheerfully.

“But the acceptable kind of gross,” Bobbi continues. “Or it wouldn’t be acceptable if I didn’t already like you, but even then sincere PDA gross is much better than shrieking child gross.”

“So…” Skye sounds as if she’s unsure of something. “Feel free to smack me down if this is something you don’t wanna talk about, but is your dislike of kids the reason you and Hunter didn’t work out?”

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. She’s honestly shocked this question hasn’t been asked before, considering how much she and the girls actually talk about serious things. “Well, he does want kids, eventually, once he feels like he has his shit together,” she says, “but it’s a little more complicated than that. Basically, I couldn’t feel the way about him he could about me, because I don’t feel that way about anyone. Not wired up that way.”

“Huh. But you, y’know, do the do, so…” Skye’s tilted her head.

“So like the exact opposite of how Fitz is?” Jemma asks.

“Pretty much,” Bobbi agrees. “I think the hard thing with Lance was that for whatever reason I _did_ care about him, and it seemed like the time in my life I was supposed to be settling down so I thought I ought to give it a try, but the longer I tried the more obvious it was things weren’t going to match up. At times he’s almost _hyper_ -romantic, which doesn’t really mesh with an aro wife.”

“Aro… aromantic?” Jemma clarifies.

“That’s the one,” Bobbi says. “It was actually Isabelle who taught me the word. I’d just thought I was fucked up somehow, I didn’t realize it was a real viable thing.”

Jemma reaches the hand that’s not holding one of Skye’s to pat Bobbi’s shoulder, and it’s a little awkward but it’s well-intentioned. “I think, not to make this into a personal me issue all of a sudden, I think definition can be a wonderfully comforting thing,” she murmurs. “It’s probably terribly cliche for the bitty Brit girl to realize her sexuality was valid and possible because of _Skins_ and subsequent research, but I remember thinking I must be wrong, too, and then learning otherwise… it’s remarkable.”

Bobbi smiles softly. “You’re fucking adorable,” she declares. “But yeah, it was like that. I thought something was wrong because I knew I couldn’t love Lance, Isabelle asked had I really loved anyone before, _that way_ , and I realized probably not, and it all sort of came together.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine he was thrilled with that information,” says Skye.

“I never actually told him,” Bobbi admits sheepishly. “I mean, I kind of floundered around with explaining that I couldn’t love him the way he loved me, and I probably couldn’t love anyone that way. But before I could get to the real explanations, he started in with how I’m just a sad heartless blah blah blah and I knew it would never get farther than that so I stopped trying to push it. Not worth it.”

“Good grief,” Jemma murmurs.

Skye winces. “That sucks. Sorry you were married to a jackass.”

“I was young and naive, isn’t that the standard excuse?” Bobbi sighs. “Live and learn.”

“Yeah.” There’s a moment of quiet and then Skye adds, “So...sappy shit is off the table, but are you still up for a threesome?”

Bobbi snorts.

“ _Skye_ ,” Jemma hisses, whacking her in the arm.

“What? I thought it was worth asking.” Skye shoots Jemma a look. “I mean, unless you _weren’t_ serious about asking.”

Jemma blushes, fluttering her hand in front of her face. “This just - I don’t know, it’s not exactly the time!” she whispers.

“Well, we were already talking about it anyway.” Shrugging, Skye turns to Bobbi. “I mean, if you’re uncomfortable I’ll totally stop, but. It’s an honest question.”

“I like you both a lot,” Bobbi begins, smirking.

“Oh, god, we’ve made a huge mess,” Jemma exclaims. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, that’s not where I was going,” Bobbi assures. “I like you both a lot, which is why I’m saying I’d be up for it, under the right circumstances. I think since we’ve talked about all this, that’s the first step in it not being incredibly weird, potentially. But to the degree that I _do_ get sentimental, I do care about this not being weird.”

That actually makes Skye stay quiet for a bit and look shocked. “Oh,” she says, finally. “I was kinda figuring you’d say no, but okay, cool.”

“Why did you think that?” Bobbi asks. “It’s clear we get along.”

“I dunno, I just…it’s a weird thing to ask?”

“We’re all grown-ups,” Bobbi shrugs.

“Except that you’re rather more grown-up than us,” Jemma squeaks. “And we’re just - I don’t know, I feel so silly compared to you.” She immediately looks like she wishes she hadn’t said it but she can’t very well take it back.

“Trust me, if I thought you were bad silly we wouldn’t be hanging out,” Bobbi says. “Another thing I learned from that disaster of a marriage was not to waste time on people I don’t give a shit about. Or who are toxic to be around, or the like.”

“Oh,” Jemma exclaims.

Skye grins, like she’s trying to play it cool. “Thanks? You okay there, honey?” she asks Jemma.

Jemma, for her part, just nods like she’s afraid to say anything else.

“It’s a compliment,” Bobbi says. “Just like it is when I say I don’t want to jump into this.” It doesn’t feel right in this case, not like just hashing out the details and going for it was right with Victoria and Isabelle. That was different.

“Awesome. So, uh, do you have a timeframe for this, or…?”

Bobbi shrugs. “Play it by ear, I think,” she says. “But I’m pretty sure someone at this table doesn’t want to worry about getting ready for a threesome when she’s just starting a new term and wanting to be on top of things.” With a playful grin Jemma’s direction.

“I’m not sure if I should take offense to that,” Jemma mumbles.

“Don’t.” Skye leans over to kiss her cheek. “We’re trying to be considerate and shit.”

“Promise,” Bobbi adds. “But it is cute when you get flustered.”

“It really is,” hums Skye, giving Jemma’s hand a squeeze.

“Well,” Jemma declares, attempting huffiness and completely failing.

Bobbi tilts her head, after a moment asking, “Have you been thinking about this awhile?”

Jemma squeaks again.


	57. so many things I'd say if only I were able but I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The local roller derby match attracts a variety of people; the afterparty is a hub of activity, both good and bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for emotional abuse, violence, slurs, mentions of arms deals.

“Is this normal?” Mike asks Carina, watching Gamora body-check a tall, dirty blonde woman out of the way so that her teammate can skate past.

Carina nods. “It’s a very violent sport,” she says solemnly. “I think that’s part of the appeal for some people.” A shrug. “Outlets for rage are important.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Mike shrugs. “She certainly seems to be enjoying herself.”

“Hell yes she is,” replies Rogue, grinning. “I’d be doin’ it too, if I could stay on my feet for more’n two minutes on skates.”

“That would be so hot,” Darcy declares. “You bodyslamming people, not you falling over.”

“Aw, thanks, sugar.” Rogue leans over to kiss Darcy’s cheek.

Darcy preens, though after a moment her attention turns back to the skaters. Sharon swings back to block and presumably accidentally hits a different blonde woman in the face, who seems largely unaffected by it, but the referee waves her into the penalty box. Sharon goes, looking contrite enough that Darcy feels compelled to shout, “ _We love you anyway, Sailor Moonshine!_ ”

Sharon looks up into the stands and grins, flashing a peace sign up at Darcy and then blowing her pile a kiss when she notices them staring too.

“This is the first time in a while she’s been penalty boxed, isn’t it?” asks Bucky.

Steve nods. “She’ll be out soon,” he says.

“Been a good night in general, though,” comments Natasha. “Tulip City’s giving them a challenge, but they’ll probably win.”

“She might even get through the night without injury.” Sam grins. “Not likely, but y’know.”

“Isn’t this kind of nervewracking for you?” Clint asks, having to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the ambient noise. “Your girl being under constant threat of minor injury, and all.”

“Yes,” Steve says plainly. “But it’s something she loves, so we want to support her. Besides, she can take care of herself.”

“I’d be more cognizant of the badasses she’s rubbing shoulders with than the injuries she might sustain,” Bobbi chimes in, grinning. She looks down at the Tulip City skaters not currently on the track. “That, ah. Princess Die is _incredibly_ hot.”

Clint goes a bit pale. “Did anyone hear that? I think I have to go investigate that weird noise. Over there. Immediately.”

“What, is it a ghost?” Natasha smirks.

Clint doesn’t answer, just books it out of the stands.

“Oops,” Bobbi says blithely.

“Do you do that to deliberately annoy him, or is that just a perk?” asks Mack.

“In this case, a perk,” she chirps. “I mean, look at the woman.” She shrugs and pulls a face. “Or literally anyone else here, look at her and back me up on this.”

“Yeah, I can see it,” replies Natasha with a grin. “Nice arms.”

Melinda nods. “Nice techniques too. Very controlled. Impressive.”

“Y-yes,” stammers Sif, eyes widening a bit. “She’s probably the best on that team.”

“Thank you,” Bobbi says dramatically. “I mean, they’re all pretty good, but I have a feeling if she was on the track right now we might not be totally about to win.”

“I think there are some very admirable skaters out there!” Steve exclaims awkwardly. “That, that Black Eye-ris is doing really well.”

Sam nods. “I like the little jammer they have. Katniss EverQueen, that’s clever.”

“Hell, it’s a better match than the time they wiped the floor with the Jump City girls,” snorts Natasha. “That was kind of sad.”

“New girl is damn good, too,” says Mack, nodding at Hope, who’s currently doing her best to keep a willowy redhead from shoving her into the rail.

Meanwhile, Nebula, who has been feigning nonchalance the entire meet except when something particularly violent happens, leaps to her feet when one of the dark-haired girls shoves Gamora into the railing. “Hey, fuck off!” she yells down, even though the girl’s never going to hear her. “I’ll shove that rail up your ass!”

Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky all turn around to grin at that. “Aw, sisters,” says Sam with a chuckle.

“Nothing quite like that sort of affection,” Steve agrees.

Nebula, having noticed and heard them, glares menacingly and sits back down, flipping them off.

“How cute,” Bobbi coos.

One of the other teams’ girls goes flying after a particularly hard shove and, after a moment of not getting up, the ref blows the whistle and announces, “Smoak and Mirrors, out!” She limps off the track.

Melinda winces and hisses sympathetically through her teeth. “Ouch.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Bobbi says. “She was able to get off the track without help.”

“Bob, your idea of fine isn’t most people’s idea of fine,” Mack points out.

She shrugs cheerfully, attention already back on the game.

“It looked like it hurt,” says Sif, “but there are medics down there. She’ll recover.”

Natasha chuckles. “He _is_ sensitive about violence,” she murmurs to Bobbi, nodding at Mack.

Bobbi rolls her eyes playfully, nodding. “Yeah, but he’s worth keeping around anyway.” She reaches to steal a handful of his popcorn, grinning cheekily at him.

“Thanks,” he says with a playful roll of his eyes. “Glad you think so highly of me.”

Down on the track, the players are positioning themselves for another jam, from the looks of it all ribbing each other. “I’m glad to see they’re all getting along,” Steve declares innocently.

“Kick ass, babe!” Natasha yells down at Sharon, who somehow manages to hear her and grins up in her direction.

“Should I be doing that?” Mike asks Carina.

“I can’t imagine anyone getting away with calling Gamora ‘babe,’” Carina says very seriously. “But I don’t think there are rules. Natasha and all of them are very demonstrative, I think that’s an option but not the only one.”

Mike chuckles, nodding as if to himself, and keeps silent, but he doesn’t look away from Gamora as the next round starts.

Nebula, noticing the exchange, pokes Carina in the arm. “C’mere.” When Carina leans over, she hisses, “What was he asking about Gamora? I bet it was gross and sappy.”

“He just wants to do things right,” Carina says, careful not to respond to the judgments one way or another.

Rolling her eyes, Nebula grunts, “I guess. It’s still gross.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Carina declares.

“You would,” says Nebula, but she runs her hand down Carina’s arm.

MJ giggles. “You two are gross.”

Of course, this makes Carina blush, and Nebula replies, “Like you wouldn’t be worse if you had some guy to be all lovey-dovey with,” to which MJ smirks and says nothing.

This round is less eventful than some and ends in only two points for the opposing team, making the final score 156-123 in favor of Sparrow City. Both teams congregate for the traditional high fives and handshakes. Everyone’s a good sport and in fact, Sharon and Smoak and Mirrors seem to be having a friendly conversation.

Once the players are off the track, Natasha leads her group over to meet Sharon. “Hey there, killer,” she says playfully, putting her arms around her.

“Hey, yourself,” Sharon croons, leaning right in and wrapping around Natasha in turn. Between the fact that she’s already taller and the fact that she’s still wearing her skates, it’s almost funny-looking, but it’s sincerely meant.

“You did good,” says Sam with a grin. “Still in one piece?”

“Mostly,” Sharon smiles. “I think.”

Bucky frowns. “You think?”

“You take knocks, some of them don’t really register until later,” Sharon shrugs. “I’ll be okay.”

“Or you’ll be groaning about them later,” replies Bucky, but he’s grinning now.

“Yeah, but you know you’re gonna dote on her later,” Natasha teases. “We all will.”

“Perk of a job well done,” Sharon chirps.

Bobbi and Mack come up to greet her as well, tailed by Melinda and Sif (and, further back, Clint). “Pretty hardcore,” Bobbi commends, patting Sharon on the shoulder despite the current girlfriend-entanglement situation.

“We try,” Sharon laughs. She sees Hope idling around by the water fountain, presumably lacking her own hangers-on, and calls, “Hey, Buzz, c’mere!”

Expression fairly neutral, Hope skates over and gives a single wave. “Good work out there,” she says to Sharon.

“You, too,” Sharon smiles. “Didn’t she kick ass?” she asks her people.

Mack nods. “Nicely done.”

“Yeah, good one,” says Clint, but he looks distracted.

“How many of these are yours?” Hope asks Sharon, because she knows of her romantic situation but only in the vaguest sense.

“Well, Tasha, obviously,” Sharon giggles, nodding. “And Steve, Bucky, Sam.”

“Hello,” Steve says pleasantly. “It’s always very nice to meet Sharon’s teammates, we hear so much about them.”

“Aw, aren’t you a gentleman?” asks one of the taller girls, a blonde with glittery blue eyeshadow. She winks. “Sharon’s told us only good things about you.”

Steve’s reaction, of course, is to blush, while Sam pokes Steve in the side and Bucky and Natasha snicker. “That’s our Steve,” Sam says. “The ideal man, really.”

Gamora, trailing her cheerleaders, approaches to say to her teammates, “Let’s go get out of this stuff so we can get the party going, all right?”

Sharon laughs and grudgingly untangles herself from around Natasha. “Sounds like a plan,” she says. “I’ll meet you guys in the parking lot?”

“Okay.” Natasha plants a kiss on her cheek.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you said you were fine,” says Sam, holding out an icepack to Sharon, who’s sitting down.

“I was,” Sharon sighs. “Like I said. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

“I’ll get the drinks,” Steve says, because he knows that’s where this is going next, and he does just that.

Natasha grins. “We’ve trained him well.”

“Training?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are you also _training_ the rest of us?”

“I’m sure it’s meant well,” Bobbi croons, waltzing up with her own drink already in hand. She waits a moment, then asks Sharon, “So, the Tulip City girls are gonna be around here somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, I think they’re still getting into their street clothes,” Sharon says, “but they should show pretty soon. Why?”

Mack comes up behind them and coughs. “Pretty sure I know why.”

“I just want to tell them good meet,” Bobbi says innocently, but she’s not trying too hard to make it seem subtle.

 

* * *

 

“I’m gonna get a beer, anyone want anything?” Mike asks.

“Please,” Gamora sighs, cheerful but also very serious.

“Mike’s if they’ve got any?” Carina adds hopefully.

“Will do!” He heads off in the direction of the bar.

Nebula nudges Gamora. “You know he’s super into you, right? Like even I can tell.”

“I have my suspicions,” Gamora says rather cagily. “What makes you bring this up?”

“Dunno.” Nebula shrugs. “Just wanted to make sure, I guess. So you could get it over with already or tell him to fuck off.”

Gamora raises an eyebrow. “‘Or’?” she repeats. “That’s not usually your advice.”

“He seems okay. Not as bad as the last one. I don’t hate him.”

“I think he’s very nice,” chimes in Carina, who has completely been listening in.

“Because your opinion is the one that matters here,” Gamora replies, but it’s gentle and remarkably friendly.

Nebula smirks. “Fuck yeah it is. You might fuck in the house while I’m there.”

“I think I’m classier than that,” Gamora snorts, although this is the only context in which she would describe herself as classy.

Mike returns with drinks, passing them out, and then asks Gamora, “So is this a normal thing after meets, a party?”

“To one degree or another,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just a house party, but sometimes we take over the parking lot after. It’s pretty expected.”

He grins. “Cool. Seems like a nice crowd.”

“It’s the sort of crowd your parents would tell you not to hang around with in high school,” she corrects playfully, “but I like it.”

“Well, I’m probably not working with your average definition of nice.” Mike chuckles. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sure,” Gamora says, voice going softer. “I’m glad you had a good time. Or, I presume you had a good time.”

“I did. You’re pretty kickass. How long have you been doing this?”

She shrugs. “I got into it a few years ago. The derby crowd and the gets-tattoos crowd tend to overlap, and I heard enough about it that I figured why not? It’s also a legal form of what might otherwise be considered violence, which is good for keeping baser urges in check.”

“Makes sense.” He nods and adds, “Plus, it looks like a damn good time.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Good exercise, good energy rush.”

 

* * *

 

“Really?” Sam sighs.

“Really what,” Sharon murmurs from somewhere in Natasha’s hair.

“You two,” says Bucky fondly. “With the PDA.”

Natasha snorts. “James, Sam, you can hardly talk.” She gives Sharon’s neck a nip.

“Besides,” Sharon adds smugly. “It’s good distraction. Steve isn’t back with my beer, probably because he got caught up being politely sociable with someone or another, so I need some kind of way to keep my mind off my aches and pains.”

“Whatever.” Bucky rolls his eyes. Then he grins. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna make out?”

Sam chuckles. “Always the charmer.” But he leans over to kiss Bucky all the same.

Steve sighs exaggeratedly when he strolls up a moment later. “Started in on the fun without me?” he asks.

“That’s what you get for being a gentleman,” teases Natasha.

“Should I just keep holding these for you?” he deadpans.

“We shouldn’t be so mean,” Sharon exclaims, waving him over and down for a kiss. “After he went to do us a very important favor.”

Making a small noise of protest in her throat, Natasha says, “I _suppose_ so” and winks, before taking one of the beers.

Steve hands the other bottles out and announces, “I’m sorry I was awhile getting back. I ran into Mr. - into Dum-Dum. You knew he came to see you guys?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Sharon shrugs cheerfully. “As older male fans go, he’s the least creepy. I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Who?” Bucky asks, disentangling himself from Sam.

“He’s one of Aunt Peggy’s friends,” Sharon explains. “Teaches shop, always wears a funny hat in flagrant disregard of the dress code.”

“Oh, him. He’s cool,” says Sam. “Mustache.”

“Oh yes!” Bucky nods.

“I can’t imagine anyone who taught where I went to high school would be caught dead at roller derby,” Sharon adds, “so it’s kinda neat.”

Mack wanders up. “Hey, have any of you seen Bobbi? For someone so tall, she’s remarkably good at disappearing.”

“Have you checked with the Tulip City girls?” asks Natasha with a knowing smile.

“I was hoping to avoid that.” Mack sighs and turns away.

“Good luck,” Sharon calls blithely.

“Luck won’t stop me from having to watch her stick her tongue down some girl’s throat,” Mack replies, sounding almost cheerful.

Sure enough, when he asks the first girl he comes across (Tiny Lancer might have been her name? He’s forgotten), she points him toward the edges of the parking lot. And there’s Bobbi, kissing that Princess Die girl against a car like the world might end any minute.

“Hey!” he says. “Some friend you are.”

“Was I supposed to be wingwomaning for you?” Bobbi retorts, pulling back but leaving her arms around Princess Die’s waist. “This isn’t exactly your kind of crowd.”

“No, but you’re not supposed to just leave your friend hanging either.” Mack grins. “Something might happen to me.”

“Like what?” she scoffs. “I’d also point out that if something _were_ to happen, it’s likely at this point that I’d be summoned immediately by your very manly but noticeable screams.”

The other girl chuckles. “I don’t think you have much to worry about, big guy.”

“You never know. Anyway. Should I just leave you two and go find better company?”

Princess Die shrugs. “I have to leave by eleven, you can have her back then.”

“Have me back,” Bobbi repeats, sounding amused but also dangerous. “That’s cute.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go before then,” she replies, smirking and then pulling her in for another kiss.

“Convenient,” Bobbi murmurs, “I wasn’t planning on showing myself out until I had no other option.”

“Have fun,” says Mack, rolling his eyes and walking away.

Sif and Melinda, who have been sipping their beers and people-watching from nearby, watch him. “Well, she got what she came for,” jokes Sif. Melinda smirks and doesn’t comment.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it, why did you want to come here?” Ward asks, not bothering to hide his disdain.

“I saw the invitation on Facebook, and, and it seemed like it might be fun,” Kara says in a rush, grinning bright-eyed up at him. “It’s just drinking but with different people in a different place. Mixing it up!”

“I guess.” Ward frowns. “Never saw the point of roller derby. I mean, aside from the outfits.”

Kara shrugs and leans into his side. She’s proving to be much more touchy-feely when she’s been drinking. “I just thought it’d be something to do,” she says softly.

Ward runs his hand through her hair. “Sure, baby. Hey, go get me a drink?”

She nods eagerly. “Anything in particular?”

“You know what I like.” The words are innocent, the tone less so. “And I don’t think you should have any more, either, you’ve had enough tonight.”

“You’re right,” she murmurs, although she hadn’t noticed until he brought it up. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He leans down to kiss her (somewhat patronizingly) and says, “I know you will.” As she walks off, he playfully slaps her ass.

She’s not quite expecting that, which accounts for her startled half-laugh half-shriek as she heads toward the impromptu bar, but the longer she walks the more she’s smiling. He’s possessive, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?

“Can I get a PBR?” she asks the woman apparently playing bartender.

“Hey,” says a voice from behind her, and when she turns around it’s a tall blonde woman with bright red lipstick that frames her mouth like blood. “Kara, right? From trivia?”

“I… yeah,” Kara says, both sounding and looking vaguely terrified. “I don’t know if I got your name?”

“Oh, I’m Dottie,” she says, grinning. “How are you?”

“Dottie,” Kara repeats, nodding. “I’m doing okay! What about you? Did you see the meet?”

Dottie nods eagerly. “This is my favorite sport! I tried out a few years ago, but they said I was too violent. So now I just come and watch instead.”

“Oh!” Something about that makes Kara laugh nervously. “That’s, that’s cool though! I just got here, but I’m going to try to catch the next one. It seems so interesting!”

“It is,” says Dottie, eyes gleaming. “I wish they had better drinks though. I like vodka and whiskey more.”

“I do too, I think,” Kara admits, smiling sheepishly. “In things, mostly. Mixed. I don’t have them very often, but.”

“You don’t _know_? Oh, honey,” replies Dottie, shaking her head. “Branch out! Try new things.” She’s quiet a moment before asking, “So are you here alone?”

“No, I came with my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Dottie’s tone goes overly casual. “Grant Ward, right?”

“That’s him,” Kara agrees. “Do you know him?”

“I know of him,” replies Dottie. “So you came over to get a drink, huh?”

“To get him one,” Kara corrects with a smile. “We were out with some friends of his earlier, I’ve had enough tonight.”

Dottie purses her lips. “Well, it’s good you know your limits, I guess.”

Kara nods, tucking hair behind her ear. “I’m not good if I’m too drunk,” she mumbles.

Narrowing her eyes, Dottie replies, “Is that something you’ve figured out, or did _he_ tell you that?”

As if suddenly overwhelmed, Kara shrugs and reaches for the beer. “I should really get back to him,” she whispers.

“I suppose you should.” Dottie nods. “Nice seeing you, Kara.”

“You too,” Kara calls over her shoulder, already bolting off in search of Ward.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, handsome,” says Dottie airily, wandering up to Steve. “Got some bad news for ya.”

Steve flinches, because to his knowledge that’s not how a teacher is supposed to talk to their former student, but Ms. Underwood always was a little off. So he smiles ruefully and asks, “What’s going on?”

“Well, I ran into a familiar face a little while ago. Kara, from trivia nights? And she was here getting a drink for her boyfriend. Her Nazi boyfriend.” Dottie wrinkles her nose. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a Grant Ward, would you?”

Bucky, who was listening to Sam and Natasha’s conversation and only half-paying attention to the newcomer, stiffens.

“We know him a little,” Steve says warily.

“ _Well._ If you ask me, someone needs to do something about that relationship,” says Dottie. “She said _he_ told her she’d had too much to drink! I can’t fucking imagine.”

Steve looks back to the others, in hopes that one of them, who has more knowledge on the matter, will answer.

“We’ve been...keeping an eye on that,” says Natasha cagily. “He’s an asshole.”

“You’re telling me! Just wanted to be sure someone knew. I’ll leave you be now.” Dottie wanders away, waving.

“Ew,” Sharon says, lolling against Sam’s shoulder.

Bucky grimaces. “I hate him.”

“Me too,” Steve sighs, in a tone of voice that practically adds, _and you know how rarely I say that, so it’s serious._

“We gotta do _something,_ ” Sam says. “I mean, not that you two didn’t” - he reaches to run a hand through Sharon’s hair - “but it obviously didn’t stick.”

“We should let everyone know he’s here, so they can be on alert,” Sharon suggests eagerly.

Sam chuckles. “ _We_? No, missy, you’re staying right here. You gotta ice those ribs, remember?”

“I’d be okay just walking around,” she says, but she sounds unenthusiastic about the prospect now that she’s really thinking about it.

“No you won’t,” replies Bucky gently. “I’ll stay and help you.”

She considers this a moment and nods. She’s actually glad, on second thought, to give Bucky an opportunity to avoid getting tangled up with a Nazi asshole.

“I’ll go tell Gamora and her friends,” Steve offers.

“I’ll find Bobbi,” says Natasha. “Sam, can you find Melinda and Sif? They’re around here somewhere.”

Sam nods. “I’m on it.”

“We’ll be here,” Sharon says with a soft smile, nodding to Bucky.

 

* * *

 

“Can we talk?” Steve asks as he approaches.

“About what?” Gamora asks, frowning. That, in her experience, is rarely a question that ends well.

Nebula glares. “If it’s about your girlfriend’s ribs, that wasn’t Gamora’s fault.”

“I know that,” Steve chuckles. “It’s actually more serious than that. I’m not sure how much you guys know about, ah, Ward and Kara -”

“It’s on the secret internet, duh,” replies Nebula.

“Yes,” he agrees politely, “but not all of _you_ are on the secret internet.” He nods around at the group.

“Yeah, what’s this about?” Mike asks. “I mean, I’ve heard a little about that Ward guy, I know he’s no good, but.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” Steve says. “He and Kara - nice girl, works in admin - have been dating and he definitely isn’t treating her right.”

“ _That’s_ an understatement,” snarks Nebula. “What the fuck has he done now?”

“Right now all we know is that he’s arbitrating basic decisions for her,” he says grimly.

“Mind spelling it out for some of us a little more?” Rogue asks. “I mean, I think I get it, but y’know. Wanna be sure.”

“The specific thing Ms. - Dottie, the thing Dottie mentioned was he seemed to be telling her if and when she was allowed to drink,” Steve explains. “I’m sure there’s more than that, but that’s what’s going on tonight for sure.”

“They’re here?” Carina asks in an almost venomous whisper.

Steve nods.

“He’s lucky nobody set on him at the entrance,” she says. “Tossed him out and into traffic.”

Nebula grabs Carina’s hand and murmurs something in her ear, which seems to calm her down a little. Then Nebula growls, “You got a plan to deal with this, Boy Scout?”

“Not officially,” Steve admits. “But we’re spreading word around so everyone knows and can keep an eye out, stop anything they see getting started.”

“Seems reasonable,” Gamora muses. “Luckily, the methods of stopping things that may be employed here are more emphatic than what we could get away with at work.”

Mike’s gripping his drink very tightly. “Let me know if you need me to do anything, Steve. I’m willing to help chase him off.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “Thank you.”

“Where’s a swimming pool when you need it?” Darcy asks her beer bottle.

 

* * *

 

After a bit of searching, Sam finds Sif and Melinda at the edge of the parking lot, leaning against the fence and drinking and talking. Clint’s with them too, but he’s not really talking.

Sif seems to be in the middle of a story, which is making Clint guffaw and Melinda snicker, so Sam lets her finish before calling, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Hello, Sam!” Sif says, grinning. “What brings you out here?”

“Oh, y’know, making the rounds. Melinda,” Sam adds with a respectful nod. “Clint.”

Clint smirks.

“Also because Tasha sent me to tell you guys about the new plan to deal with our resident Nazi.” Sam fills them in on the evening’s events. “So we’re thinking it might be a good idea to step up the surveillance.”

“Is that the traditional meaning of surveillance?” asks Melinda, raising an eyebrow.

Sam shrugs. “Didn’t specify. Guess it’s up to you.” He grins.

“All right,” says Sif, nodding seriously. Melinda nods as well, and Clint is looking thoughtful.

“Anything else we should know?” he asks.

“Not really? Just be aware. Alright, I better get back to my people.” Sam nods and heads off.

Sif and Melinda exchange a look. “It seems our attempt didn’t work,” says Sif, sounding more disappointed than she’d like.

Melinda puts a hand on her shoulder. “You did the best you could.”

Clint coughs. “I’m gonna see a guy about a dog, I’ll be right back.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha knows the quickest way to find Bobbi is to find Mack. “Hey,” she says, when she tracks him down (sipping a drink and looking somewhat morose). “Seen Bobbi anywhere?”

“Over there,” he sighs, gesturing towards the car where Bobbi’s still making out with Diana. “Allegedly that girl’s leaving in five minutes, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

Laughing, Natasha rolls her eyes. “This surprises me not at all. So...how’re things going with Bruce?”

Mack perks up. “Really well. He’s a great guy. Brilliant, way smarter than me probably.”

“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve had a conversation or two and he’s said some very nice things about you.”

They continue talking until Bobbi approaches, tossing her hair and tugging her shirt back into place surreptitiously. “Hey,” she says to Natasha. “You have a ‘something’s up’ face.”

“Yeah. So, turns out our favorite Nazi’s up to his old tricks again.”

Natasha explains what’s going on, which snaps Bobbi out of her post-makeout blissful haze abruptly. For lack of anything else to fidget with, she clenches and unclenches her fists. “He really is as big of an asshole as he puts on,” she mutters.

“No kidding,” says Mack, who also looks angry. “Can we do anything about it?”

“Not concretely? Not at the moment, anyway. Steve told me to tell you guys to keep an eye on things in case something worse happens.”

“Mack, please tell me it wouldn’t be productive to murder that asshole,” Bobbi says flatly.

“Not that I’m not right there with you, but probably it wouldn’t,” he replies.

“Maybe if everyone saw him punch me, they’d realize he was evil and run him out of town,” she suggests. “Would that, at least, be worth it?”

Natasha and Mack say “No” at the same time. “Can’t have you sacrificing your face,” jokes Mack.

“He could punch me somewhere else,” Bobbi shrugs. “And apparently the rumors weren’t enough to incite an angry mob, so.”

“Hold off on that,” says Natasha. “But if you two could keep an eye on him, that’d be good. We’re basically waiting around for the next level.”

“Kara,” Bobbi says, frowning. “How long has it been since someone tried the approach that involves, you know, approaching her? Dottie saying hi and stumbling into bad doesn’t count.”

“I’m not actually sure? Karen said something about it a little while ago, but I don’t know how isolated Ward’s keeping her.” Natasha looks hard at Bobbi. “You volunteering?”

Bobbi nods. “Yeah, I am,” she agrees. “The other way isn’t working, maybe this will.”

 

* * *

 

Ward’s phone rings and he glances at it. “I have to take this,” he says, walking away.

Kara frowns in the general direction of her shoes. “We were hanging out,” she mumbles.

Maybe a few minutes pass before she hears a voice behind her calling, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Kara says instantly before she turns around, but when she sees it’s Bobbi asking (impossibly cool, intimidatingly tall, take-no-shit Bobbi, or at least that’s Kara’s impression of her) her tone softens before she repeats, “Nothing, really.”

“You sure?” Bobbi asks, coming around Kara’s side. “Can I sit?”

Shyly, Kara nods. “Yeah,” she says. “I mean, yeah, you can sit here. I don’t mind.”

“But not yeah, you’re sure?” Bobbi presses gently.

“I don’t know why I’m not even allowed to _look_ at my phone when it rings but he’s allowed to get up and take a call and leave me here,” Kara blurts out, immediately looking shocked.

_I know why_ , Bobbi thinks, but she tempers her expression and says, “Yeah, my ex was like that a little bit. He’d get threatened by anything that took my attention off of him. Well, any _one_. Luckily he had enough goofy diverting hobbies that he couldn’t get too pissed about mine.”

“Grant just likes me to pay a lot of attention to him, I guess,” Kara muses. “He didn’t get a lot of attention as a kid. Or a lot of good attention, anyway.”

Bobbi nods, taking a second to consider her response. “Well,” she says, “that’s a pretty normal response. But it can go too far, too.”

Kara tilts her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, there’s a difference between charmingly needy and intolerable,” Bobbi shrugs, affecting a casual air. “It’s sort of cute when they meet you at the door when you get home like a puppy -”

“Grant is really weird about dogs,” Kara says suddenly. “I said we should get one and he got all…” Here she pauses and makes a funny face. “Squirmy. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Privately Bobbi agrees, only because the idea of Grant Ward owning any pet is repulsive and that of him having shared property with Kara is terrifying, but what she says is, “You couldn’t have known.”

“He had a dog when he was younger,” Kara continues, like she didn’t even hear Bobbi. “In high school, when he had to go to that school, his mentor? John? He got him a dog. Buddy. At that point Grant wasn’t even living with his parents anymore.”

Bobbi makes a face. She can tell this is heading into sob story territory.

“It, he, Buddy, was supposed to make up for that,” Kara explains. “Grant was crashing on couches, but he had Buddy no matter what. And then…” She shrugs, suddenly sounding choked up. “Something happened to Buddy and he died. Grant wouldn’t say how, but it seemed like a sensitive subject. Like something violent had happened.”

It’s a fair bet, in Bobbi’s opinion, what that something was. That’s one of the signs of a psychopath, after all. But that doesn’t seem like the right thing to say.

 

* * *

 

Absolutely none of Clint’s friends would be surprised to know that he hadn’t, in fact, gone to take a shit. He’s searching the party, as stealthily as possible, for Ward, and finally spots him walking towards the track’s building. Being careful not to be seen, he sneaks in through another entrance and shimmies up a support beam into the rafters to listen in.

“Hey, sorry, had to find a quieter spot,” Ward’s saying. “Loud fucks make it hard to hear anything. So where’s the shipment coming to? The warehouse on Millar? On Wednesday?”

Clint raises an eyebrow. Warehouse? This sounds super legit and not at all sketchy.

“Do you need me there? Okay, what time?” Ward sighs. “No, I _told_ you, I can’t be there at two, idiot, I have work till three thirty! I don’t know, you figure it out! Play Russian roulette for all I care!”

Yeah, this was _definitely_ a legitimate transaction happening.

“And there are how many? Shit, really? All automatics? Damn. Garrett’ll like that.”

So it’s either guns or cars. Probably not cars, unless that warehouse is bigger on the inside.

“Mark 48s and…” He’s quiet for a moment. “Rheinmetalls, really? Holy shit, how’d we swing that?”

Guns, then. Awesome. The Nazis are smuggling guns, and he’s the only one listening to this conversation. While clinging to the rafters of an outdated fairground building. Honestly, this isn’t the worst predicament he’s ever been in, but at this rate it might make the top five.

“Fuck, that’s great. Nice work.” Another pause. “Oh, she’s fine, y’know. Same ol’.” Pause. “Oh yeah, she let me do that awhile back. Very compliant.”

Gross. He doesn’t _want_ to know what Ward’s talking about now.

Ward’s laughing. “Hey, just cause you can’t get a girl to stick around for more than a couple weeks doesn’t mean you get to bitch at me about it. Although, hey, I just got an idea.” Pause. “Well, Kara will pretty much do whatever I tell her to, and if you want me to, I can-”

Well, that’s enough of _that._ Clint lets himself slip off the rafters and conveniently almost hits Ward on the way down. “Planning on pimping out your girl, Ward? I’ve got your membership pin for Assholes Inc. right here.” He bounces up (he’s used to falling off of stuff) and spins to kick Ward in the face.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t result in Ward losing a tooth (that would’ve been cool) but it does send him sprawling, his phone flying out of his hand. While he’s swearing and recovering, Clint scrambles for it and yells “Sorry, Ward’s busy getting his ass kicked” before slamming his thumb down to disconnect the call.

“What the fuck?” Ward snarls, staggering to his feet (there is a bit of blood on his mouth, Clint notices with satisfaction). “Where did you even _come_ from?”

“Your worst nightmare,” says Clint, hoping the irony will come through in his tone, and goes to sock him in the jaw.

Or, he tries. Turns out Ward is actually fairly accomplished at fisticuffs. As he finds out when Ward blocks him and then actually punches him in the jaw.

Well, so much for that. He tries to fight back, but honestly when you’re on the ground getting the shit kicked out of you it’s sort of hard to do. He’s lost track of how long this goes on before Ward finally stops, mutters “shit” and walks away. It takes Clint a minute to figure out what’s happened, until someone says, “What the hell happened?”

He groans, tries to roll over so he can see who’s there (it’s a female voice), and mutters “Nothing, ‘s fine.”

“Holy crap, no, it really isn’t,” she exclaims. “You just got your ass kicked. Do you need ass… ice?”

God help him, he’s in pain but he laughs. She’s funny, whoever she is. He finally manages to roll himself over to look at his apparent savior and _holy shit_ he swears he hears violins. “Uh,” he says intelligently. “Sure, yeah. That’d be good.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll go ask around. I’m sure there’s a spare icepack. I’ve seen like four girls holding them, it should be doable. Maybe we should get you up, too. Not in the middle of the floor.”

“Yeah, ‘s good, whatever,” he says, still staring at her.

She squats down beside him, offering a hand. “C’mon,” she smiles.

He pauses for a moment to weigh the perks (this floor is hard, he would get to touch her hand) against the unpleasant things (the aches _everywhere_ ) before finally taking her hand and letting her pull him up, trying not to groan the whole time. Finally he says, “Uh, thank you. Uh. Your name is?”

She looks a little surprised by the question, like she wasn’t expecting that to be a concern. “Laura,” she finally says, sounding sheepish.

“Hi,” he says. “Name’s Clint.” Then he blinks. “Uh. You mentioned ice? Ice wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

 

* * *

 

“Having fun talking to my girl, bitch?” is the first thing Ward says when he comes back to find Kara and Bobbi talking. He usually tries to be more restrained, but he’s in a bad mood now.

Kara looks up at him, startled, and Bobbi glares, all but hissing as she jumps up and hurries off, calling a “Talk later?” over her shoulder but not sticking around to hear the answer.

“No you won’t,” says Ward, not that he thinks she’s listening anyway. It’s mostly for Kara’s benefit. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“What’s going on?” she asks anxiously. “You’re bleeding.”

“Nothing,” he growls. “Don’t ask.”

“I’m just worried!” she exclaims, fumbling in her purse for something he can use to clean himself off.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just go.” He grabs her arm and starts to steer her out. “And we’re not coming to another one of these again.”

Her first instinct, the one she acts on without even thinking, is to squirm in his grasp and mumble “I was having a nice time.”

“Well, sorry,” he grunts as he tugs her away, not sounding sorry at all.

Bobbi stares after them a moment, confused, until Clint limps up holding an icepack...well, he seems to be trying to hold it everywhere at once. “Hey,” he grunts.

“Jesus Christ, Clint,” she exclaims.

“I’ve had worse.”

“And that’s the scary part,” she sighs.

 

* * *

 

_> >Nat, I think I met an angel tonight._

_> >Fuck’s sake, Barton, how much did you drink? :/_

_> >Nothing. But I was trying to teach that Ward guy a lesson and it...didn’t go well. And she showed up and he ran off, and then she helped me up and brought me ice. And she was so funny, Nat, and gorgeous, holy shit._

_> >Dear god, not this again._

_> >This is different! I swear it is. Her name’s Laura. I have her number. I shouldn’t text her tonight, right? That’s weird?_

_> >Clint, I swore off being your romantic coach after Bobbi. I distinctly remember doing this. _

_> >Fine. You’re not invited to the wedding, then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tulip City girls: Whack Canary, Tiny Lancer, Snow Pity, Black Eye-ris, Abi-Ghoul Adams, Smoak and Mirrors, Princess Die, and Katniss EverQueen. Yes, they're all meant to be characters from another fandom.


	58. I'm ready for the sea change, helpless felt this coming from a mile away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A variety of friend groups, both established and developing, attend a midnight screening of _Repo! The Genetic Opera_ , and then go out for breakfast. They accidentally choose the same diner as Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for vague discussion of familial abuse, slurs, Hydra being Hydra, unsavory implications regarding the whereabouts and temporary safety of a romantic partner.

Driving isn’t Raina’s favorite thing, and she avoids it when possible, but tonight it seemed in the interest of socializing, which she’s getting more and more used to doing in an allegedly normal context. Practice makes better.

She parks in front of the address she’s been given and strolls up to the door to knock, not sure what she’s expecting.

Wanda opens the door and smiles a bit awkwardly. “Hello. Come in, I’m almost ready.”

Raina tries for a reassuring smile (she’s not used to those, so it comes off a bit awkward as well). “You don’t need to go into full hostess mode if you don’t want to,” she says.

“It’s fine. I should practice,” replies Wanda.

Laughing good-naturedly, Raina walks into the main room, not making a secret of the fact she’s staring at the decorations. Pietro wanders by, playing with a hacky sack. “Hello,” he calls, not taking his eyes off the toy.

“Hello,” Raina calls back. “Keeping yourself busy?” It might be a joke.

“Yes,” he says cheerfully. “I am trying to beat my own record. I have kept this in the air for one hundred and thirty seven bounces before.”

“That’s quite a lot of bounces,” she observes, though she honestly has no idea how proportionally true that is.

He shrugs. “Could be more. It is a way to amuse myself.”

Seemingly bored, a cat wanders down the hall and into the room, not really paying attention to much until it spots Raina (or, in its estimation, a New Thing) and immediately comes and rubs up against her patent leather heels.

“You have a cat,” she says, sounding a little uneasy.

“Oh yes, that’s Cardboard Box,” replies Pietro. “He likes you.”

“Cardboard… Box,” Raina repeats. “He certainly likes my shoes, anyway.”

“That was Pietro’s idea,” calls Wanda from the other room. “It’s where he was born, you see. The cat.”

“What is?” Raina asks, though she’s pretty sure she’s following this train of logic.

“A cardboard box.” Pietro sounds like this is the most natural conclusion in the world.

Raina can’t help it, she bursts out laughing. “That’s too precious,” she exclaims, finally bending down to try to give the cat some scritches. He’s white, with one blue eye and one green, and that makes him moderately more interesting to look at, at least.

Pietro smiles. “Thank you, I think.”

“Oh, he likes you,” says Wanda, entering the room and leaning down to stroke the cat. “I’m ready to leave, if you are.”

“Sure I am,” Raina agrees. Nodding in Pietro’s direction, she asks, “He sure he doesn’t want to come?”

“No,” replies Pietro, almost cheerfully, “I don’t like movies. You have to sit still.”

“Less so at this kind of movie,” Raina smirks, “but suit yourself.”

 

* * *

 

It’s not too hard to find decent street parking in this neighborhood, so Raina doesn’t have to wait around for a space to clear up. She just slides in, parks, and switches on the overhead light so she can touch up her dark red lipstick, smiling to herself in the mirror.

“Should I have brought lipstick as well?” asks Wanda, eyes widening.

“It’s not a requirement,” Raina shrugs, sticking a finger in her mouth and pulling it back out to catch any stray color in danger of getting on her teeth. “Wanna borrow mine?”

“I…” Wanda hesitates for a moment before nodding.

Raina smiles and hands it over, after a moment reaching for a pack of tissues to share as well. “In case you want to blot it off or blot your lips off either,” she explains.

Wanda does, smiling afterwards. “Thank you. You’re very kind to me.”

That’s the kind of remark that catches Raina off-guard (she’s been called many things, but “kind” is rarely one of them) but she shrugs it off. “Glad to help,” she says vaguely, nodding. “Want to go in?”

“Yes, let’s.”

Raina unlocks the car and steps out, nodding for Wanda to do the same. “Have you done anything like this before?” she asks. “I know you said not this exact thing, but some variant?”

Wanda shakes her head. “I haven’t even been to many movies,” she says. “Pietro doesn’t like sitting down, and I get too lonely. But I always liked the idea of it.”

“Well, you definitely won’t be lonely here,” Raina says with a smile. “All the nicest freaks come out to play.” As if to illustrate her point, the crowd milling around the theater is suitably make-upped, corseted, latexed, high-heeled, you name it.

“Apparently,” Wanda replies, glancing around in awe. “I think perhaps I’m underdressed.”

Raina needlessly smoothes first her corset (black, satin, underbust) and then her dress (black satin, covered in red flowers) and shrugs. “It’s also not a requirement,” she says. “It’s just a nice outlet for people.”

“I didn’t know you’d joined Big Sisters,” Lorelei (wearing honestly little more than lingerie) croons, sidling up and raising an eyebrow at Raina.

For her part, Raina rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Wanda works upstairs,” she says. “In the bookstore. We have a mutual affinity for verbally dissecting people, but her excuse is better.”

Wanda smirks. “Hello. I think we will get along well.”

“She already knows all about you,” Raina murmurs slyly.

“Courtesy of you or courtesy of my _reputation_?” Lorelei asks.

“Both,” replies Wanda. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. You’re intriguing.”

“And given what you know, I take it you’re not even just saying that to get in my pants,” Lorelei laughs. It’s a test, of course.

“What pants?” Raina asks, sliding an arm around Lorelei’s waist.

“Oh, it’s you,” says a new voice, which turns out to be Nebula. She sounds almost happy to see them.

“Of course it’s us,” Raina giggles. “I only miss _Repo!_ Fridays for a very important reason.”

“I’m glad there are no important reasons today,” Carina says very seriously.

“Everyone knows everyone?” Raina asks, considering she’s the one playing hostess.

“Yeah, I know you, kinda,” says Nebula, nodding at Wanda.

Wanda tilts her head. “Secret internet, yes?”

“We’re both there!” Carina exclaims, nodding eagerly. (It’s kind of funny seeing a girl in a vinyl dress acting so cartoon-sweet, but there you have it.)

Smiling hesitantly, Wanda nods. “Nice to see you in person.”

“You, too!” Carina says. “Your arm is _beautiful_.” She nods to Wanda’s tattoos, and she’s not just saying it because she might know the artists.

“Thank you.” Wanda runs her hand self-consciously over her arm, which is bare - she opted for a sleeveless dress tonight. It seemed like the place to display her half-sleeve (a few random nebulas and galaxies, some small flowers, and a Roma chakra). It looks a bit chaotic, but looking at it calms her.

“How long have you been working on that?” Nebula asks.

Wanda shrugs. “Four months? Five? I add to it as I think of new ideas. This was for my mother,” she says, touching the chakra.

Carina bites her lip, not sure if that’s a subject she’s meant to inquire about, and Nebula asks in her blunt way, “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s, um, the Romani chakra,” replies Wanda. “It is meant to honor their Indian heritage and also to resemble the wheels of the Vardo - the Wagon, the family home. Mother was less traditional, but still taught us much about our heritage. I...I wanted to honor her in some way.”

“Ties to one’s heritage are precious,” Raina observes sagely.

“What are you talking about?” asks Nebula.

Raina shrugs. “Well, I don’t have any personally, but they seem like they’d be nice.”

The front door swings open and they’re treated with what sounds like the middle of a monologue. “Honestly, all I’m saying is their new futuristic designer organs must have vastly superior shelf lives that are never explained.”

“Well, yes, but you’re also talking about a film where they sing about an addictive drug.” That’s Fitz.

“That’s more common than you’d think, lion boy,” Raina croons, waving.

Fitz yelps and tries to hide behind his boyfriend, who just grins. “Hey,” Trip calls. “Having a nice night, y’all?”

“Yes,” says Wanda, smiling back as best she can. “I’ve never been to one of these. So far it is very enjoyable.”

“Good.” Trip nods.

“It’s a very fun film, despite its glaring scientific inaccuracies,” Jemma beams.

Skye sidles up to kiss her cheek. “You’re so cute in your GenTern getup. And when you’re rambling about science.”

Jemma fusses with her glasses and preens for a minute before offering, “Well, you make a lovely Shilo.”

Skye leans over to kiss her on the lips. When Fitz makes an affronted noise, she pulls back to quip, “You didn’t wear a costume, you don’t get to have opinions.”

“I didn’t want to dress up as anyone because they’re all horrid people!” Fitz protests. When both girls glare, he quickly adds, “The boys are, anyhow. And I can’t, I’m not, er. Well, I’m certainly not wearing Mag’s corset.”

Chuckling, Trip says, “I’ll wear one next time. I think it sounds kinda fun.”

“I don’t remember a GenTern with a lab coat,” says Nebula.

“She’s there!” Jemma exclaims. “You might not notice her because unlike the others she’s actually _working_ , in a presumably scientific capacity. There are a couple of them, during the song where the brothers are comparing penises, watch for her.”

“Okay!” Carina says brightly, nodding along.

Lorelei whispers something in Raina’s ear (it’s dirty, everyone correctly assumes) and Raina says to Wanda, “Since I’m not _minding you_ for the evening, it’ll be all right if I leave you be for a few minutes?”

Wanda laughs. “It is fine. Enjoy yourself.”

Both women giggle, and as Lorelei drags Raina off, Raina makes eye contact with Skye and nods respectfully, almost subtly.

“What just happened?” asks Fitz.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” teases Skye.

Carina giggles. “You guys are funny,” she observes simply.

“They’re going off to have sex,” Wanda tells Fitz. “Or at least some kind of sexual activity. I am becoming better at noticing such things.”

Fitz wrinkles his nose. “Oh.”

“Do you not enjoy sexual subjects?” Wanda asks. “I will try to refrain from talking about them around you. I find human sexuality fascinating, however.”

“I’d rather not hear about it,” replies Fitz. “I don’t, er. Do that. Y’know.” He looks acutely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” says Wanda. “I don’t either, I think. I am still figuring that out.” She turns to Skye. “You are a character from the movie too?”

Skye nods. “I’m Shilo, the main girl? ‘Cause, okay, long story short, turns out my biodad was also an asshole doctor who didn’t murder my mom, but he sure terrorized her. Also the part where he kidnapped me. I get Shilo. I know that feel, y’know?”

Jemma takes Skye’s hand. “But you’ve got a happy ending now, just like Shilo. Or sort of like Shilo. You were spared - do you mind if I spoil?”

“No, please continue.”

“You were spared watching your asshole doctor biodad get murdered by an asshole self-styled king of the apocalypse!” It’s meant to be reassuring, anyway.

That makes Skye laugh. “Yeah, there is that. And I got a chunk of cash that he apparently had squirreled away in some offshore account somewhere. Not that I can touch that for a few years,” she adds, for Wanda’s benefit, “but hey, at least he did something for me before he got shanked in jail.”

“Your resentment is certainly understandable,” says Wanda, eyes wide. “He sounds like a very unpleasant person.”

“From what my mom was saying, that’s an understatement.”

“Welcome to the club,” snorts Nebula.

“It isn’t the nicest of clubs,” Carina muses, “but it is certainly nice that we’re all better off!”

“The...asshole male relatives club?” Skye asks.

“The asshole male relatives who were murdered while incarcerated club!” Carina chirps, swinging Nebula’s hand. There’s really only two ways she discusses this, and bright and chipper is the much nicer one.

Wanda makes a startled noise. “Oh my. All of you?”

Carina and Nebula both nod and Nebula says, smirking, “Turns out my fuckwad old man murdered her fuckwad uncle in the lockup, and vice versa. Isn’t it romantic?”

Jemma’s eyes go a bit wide. “My,” she echoes.

“Hey,” says Trip quickly, “so we were thinking about going to get some breakfast when this is over. Y’all are welcome to come along.”

“That sounds nice,” Carina smiles.

The lobby lights dim and come back up, signaling showtime soon, and Raina and Lorelei saunter back out of whatever corner they were hiding in (lipstick marks in the other’s color on their necks). “What sounds nice?” Lorelei asks.

“Going to breakfast after the movie,” replies Wanda, looking somewhat uncertain. “Though I’m not sure if you’d want to be out that late, Raina?”

Raina shrugs. “I don’t mind, I’m feeling rather of the night.”

“Then yes, we’ll come!” says Wanda eagerly.

Fitz glances at the theater entrance and says, “Shouldn’t we sit down?”

“It wouldn’t be an awful idea,” Jemma agrees.

“So we’ll meet up later,” says Wanda, nodding a goodbye as she and Raina and Lorelei head inside the theater as well.

“I like her,” Carina says to Nebula as they tuck into one of the back rows.

Nebula grunts in a way that means she agrees.

“Closer to the front?” Jemma asks her people.

“Not too close,” says Fitz. “Couple more rows, maybe.”

Skye ambles on ahead until she finds four in the right row and waves them down. “Here we go!”

Jemma, currently wearing heels that are just a little too tall for comfort, hurries down the aisle as fast as she can (Trip offers an arm to steady herself on). “Who wants in first?”

Skye grabs her hand and tugs her inside. “I know Fitz likes the outside.”

“And there won’t be dancing in the aisles to ruin that!” Jemma chirps. In general there’s much less dancing at _Repo!_ , possibly because there are no real dance numbers in the film.

Fitz makes a huffing noise as he sits down next to Trip, but he’s smiling as he settles in.

Raina has settled her group in the center of the theater and, just because she knows it will pay off, she glances up into the rafters. Sure enough, Clint is nestled up there, watching her with wide eyes.

“Hi, bird boy!” she croons, waggling her fingers at him.

He yelps and tries to make himself invisible through ostrich logic (obviously if you can’t see the other person, they can’t see you, right?).

Wanda, who’s been watching the interaction, giggles. That makes Clint uncover his eyes for a moment and mutter, “Dear god, there’s two of them.” Lorelei blows a kiss, and he mentally amends it to three and considers changing his name and moving to Australia.

 

* * *

 

There’s considerably less prop-throwing at this movie, so the midnight screening quality of it relies mostly on actors in front of the stage and vehement sing-alongs. Somebody in the back keeps shouting incest jokes, but everyone else ignores them.

Wanda waits until the middle of the Zydrate song before she leans over to ask Raina quietly, “Would you take Zydrate?” Because she knows Raina smokes, obviously, and she’s not sure how far she’ll go with drugs.

Raina shrugs again, casual as can be.

“Oh.” Unsure of what to make of that, Wanda falls silent.

“I’m sort of kidding,” Raina says after a moment. “If they figured out a way to smoke it, maybe. But as is I wouldn’t touch the stuff.”

“Ah.” Wanda nods. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Raina smiles to show her question isn’t meant in judgment, asking, “I assume you wouldn’t dream of it either?”

Shaking her head, Wanda says, “I have never had recreational drugs. I suspect they would not agree with me.”

“That’s all right,” Raina says. “Know your limits and all.”

Lorelei leans over, stage-whispering “Turn around and admire the lovebirds.”

Raina does, seeing instantly that what she’s referring to is Nebula and Carina’s snugglefest in the back: Carina under Nebula’s arm, Nebula’s hand resting on Carina’s head. “Too precious.”

“I know,” Lorelei agrees. “It’s toeing the line between cute and revolting.”

Watching them with amusement, Wanda chimes in, “They seem quite happy.”

“They are,” Raina says. “Funny how life works out that way.”

 

* * *

 

“...so yeah, just meet us there,” Trip says to Raina.

“Sure thing,” she says. She turns to her designated friends. “Do you all want to cram in with me?”

Nebula shrugs. “Why not? Not like I have anything else to do.”

Wanda notices Clint ambling out of the theater and taps Raina on the shoulder. “We should invite him.”

“I doubt he’d say yes,” Raina murmurs, smirking.

Shrugging, Wanda goes over to him anyway. “We are going out for breakfast,” she says. “You are welcome to come along if you wish.”

Clint stares at her, eyes wide. “Uh,” he says. “Uh.”

“It’s only breakfast,” Raina adds with a smile. “In a group in a public place. We won’t bite.”

Clint swallows audibly. “Um. Sure?”

“It’ll be fun!” Carina adds, peeking over.

He nods, too quickly. “Uh huh, yup. I’ve got my own ride, uh, where is it?”

 

* * *

 

When they enter the diner, the first thing they see is a tableful of Hydra. The first thing they hear is the cacophony Hydra is creating. “Fuck,” says Nebula.

“Let me handle this,” Lorelei says, and she strides forward into the entryway, hand on her hip, staring pointedly around the room as if choosing the right table for her group.

Ward, glancing over at them, smirks and gives Lorelei what is probably supposed to be a suave smirk.

Before she can say anything, though, Raina enters, pretending like she doesn’t notice the Hydra boys, and Lorelei pretends to break that news to her. It’s a masterful performance, except for it isn’t a performance entirely: once made aware, Raina’s eyes go impossibly wide, and with what can only be described as a wibbling lip, she turns very slowly to stare in their direction.

Instantly, Ward’s entire demeanor changes; he drops his gaze, gets a bit paler, tries to look anywhere but at them.

Surprisingly it’s Nebula having to hold Carina back when they enter, both glaring daggers as they come to flank Raina (who’s also being very noticeably held by Lorelei) protectively. Carina is muttering something indistinguishable, but it’s very possibly in line with being a revenge spell.

“Hey, what’s up? You seem awful scared of those _girls,_ ” Rumlow says scornfully to Ward.

“I’m not,” protests Ward. “I just…”

“What, you afraid they’re gonna whine you to death?” Rumlow scoffs. “Not like they could do anything. They’re just a bunch of dumb cunts anyway.”

Nebula seems like she’s about to retort, but Wanda enters from the foyer just in time to hear that, and she practically snarls and lunges for Rumlow, or tries. Trip comes up behind her just in time to gently but firmly restrain her.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t sink to their level,” he says gently.

“I hate them!” replies Wanda. “I will scratch out their eyes!”

“They deserve that and worse,” Jemma mutters, sounding like destruction.

“I agree,” says Trip, trying for a calming tone, “but maybe let’s not right now.” He nods toward the back corner of the diner, where several police officers are chatting amiably.

Skye groans. “Why do you have to be the reasonable one?”

“Comes with the territory,” says Trip, letting go of Wanda once he’s sure she won’t try to jump Hydra.

“Besides, you should always make sure to eat a proper breakfast before you murder someone,” Raina chimes in, voice low.

Trip sighs. “That’s...not really what I meant, but let’s go with that, sure.”

“By the way, guys, I’m not sure those cops aren’t Hydra too,” says Skye somewhat quietly. “There are a bunch of them on the force, but I don’t know which ones are Nazis.”

Jemma shivers. “Fat lot of good that does,” she whispers.

“Sorry,” mutters Skye. “I tried. They’re sneaky bastards.”

“I meant having them on the force,” Jemma assures, squeezing Skye’s hand. “You’re perfect.”

“Hey, let’s push these tables together!” Raina exclaims suddenly, turning her attention very distinctly away from the Hydra group and affecting a cheery air.

Clint shrugs and helps her. He might as well be useful.

Soon enough everyone is gathered around, seated, they’ve ordered, and side conversations are starting up all around. Fitz pokes Trip and murmurs, “I didn’t think Lorelei was the pancakes sort. I thought she might be a succubus, you know, subside on human energy.”

Trip chuckles. “I thought you didn’t believe in stuff like that?” he teases.

“I don’t. But just _look_ at her!”

Of course, Lorelei hears this conversation, but she doesn’t do anything to react. She just focuses on the aforementioned pancakes and on watching Clint look increasingly uncomfortable every time she blinks at him.

Clint is too busy casting frightened looks at Lorelei and Raina to pay much attention to his own waffles (with extra whipped cream, in honor of Leslie Knope). Sometimes it looks a little like staring, but he doesn’t mean to.

Wanda tilts her head. “What are you staring at?”

He just blinks at her like a startled animal.

She makes a mental note about his behavior - she finds the avoiding eye contact particularly interesting - and then goes back to focusing on her chocolate chip pancakes.

“This is nice,” Jemma sighs happily, leaning against Skye’s shoulder as she stirs her tea.

Skye smiles at her. “You’re cute when you’re buzzed.”

“I haven’t had anything to drink in hours!” Jemma exclaims defensively.

“I know, and that’s why you’re in the cute buzzed stage. You’ve already passed the part where you ramble.” Skye reaches to pet Jemma’s hair.

Jemma lets out a happy sigh before she sees Fitz’s horrified face and bursts out laughing. “I promise we don’t do this just to startle you,” she says playfully.

“Oh, you _don’t,_ ” grumbles Fitz, but he quiets when Trip grabs his hand.

“Sometimes,” Carina offers, “it can be hard not to be affectionate with your someone.”

Nebula grunts agreement and runs her hand down Carina’s back.

“How do you deal with it?” Fitz asks. “This, uh.” He waves his hand vaguely in Skye and Jemma’s direction. “Constant barrage of sexuality.”

Carina shrugs. “Well, it’s not my business to tell people what to do,” she says warily.

“I just bitch about it, mostly,” replies Nebula with a smirk. “Seems like that’s your approach too.”

Skye, who’s mostly tuned out of that conversation, is glancing around for something interesting to look at when she notices that the Hydra guys seem to be getting ready to leave. Conveniently, she’s nearest to the front counter. “Guys,” she says quietly, “act normal, I’m gonna eavesdrop for a sec.”

“ _So_ ,” Jemma says loudly, sitting straight up, “how is that… project? You were working on?” It’s unclear who she’s asking this of.

“Raina,” Carina says at the same time, diverting attention. “You said you could read palms? Do mine. Please?”

Skye snorts at the inability of her friends to be anything like normal, and then tips her chair back slightly to listen to Hydra.

“...so I think this is gonna be twice as big as the last one, y’know?” one of them is saying to Rumlow. “We got the really good stuff this time.”

“Fucking better,” replies Rumlow. “That was nothing. It should be something people are gonna _notice,_ for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah,” says Ward. “We’re doing that in a couple days, right?”

“Yeah, Tuesday night. Which you would know if you bothered to show up to the meetings,” scoffs Rumlow. “But I bet you have to go home to your broken whore, huh?”

Ward snorts. “Please, Rumlow. I’ve missed, what, two meetings? And don’t worry about her, she’ll be right where I left her whenever I get back.” He chuckles.

Despite her attempts to have Raina read her palm (or touch her hand and make vague predictions, she’s not sure how legitimate it is) Carina catches that comment and shudders violently, enough that Raina gives her hand a squeeze and doesn’t say a damn thing because nothing she knows to say would help.

“I wanna go cut them all,” growls Nebula.

“Can’t blame you, but that’s really not a good plan,” replies Trip. “You’re outnumbered, they’ve probably got a dozen weapons amongst them, and we still don’t know whether those cops are the good guys. You gotta keep yourself safe first, y’know?”

Grumbling, Nebula nods.

“We could break into Ward’s house to rescue Kara?” Jemma suggests, somewhat frantically.

“I’m loving the vigilante justice theme, but we don’t know that he left her there,” says Skye. “God, he could have her in a fucking _motel_ , we don’t know.”

“We also don’t know that she’s trapped, necessarily,” chimes in Fitz. “I mean obviously he’s a huge arsehole, but she might be fine. Well, fine for the moment.”

“Right where he left her,” Carina echoes softly. “Men like that only say that sort of thing for one reason.” Given the evening’s earlier revelation about asshole male relatives, this carries a heavier weight, and Raina squeezes her hand again before folding her fingers and returning her to her girlfriend.

“Men like that,” says Nebula, as if she’s been thinking. “Y’know, I don’t remember hearing too much about this dickfuck until after you slept with him,” she adds, turning to Lorelei. “Then he started being a shitbag to women all over the place.”

Lorelei bristles, and Raina murmurs, “She and I, who had seen and heard significantly more evidence to his horribleness prior, had a very specific plan. What happened to me happened on purpose. I _thought_ it would get the point across. It apparently didn’t reach far enough.”

“And I’m an asshole to men, but I’m not a sadist,” Lorelei adds defensively. “I like messing with them and getting something out of them, not cutting them off from everyone they know and beating the shit out of them.” She sniffs with disgust.

Clint stares at her, looking both horrified and fascinated.

Skye cuts in. “Actually, I was Veronica Mars-ing a little bit and he’s always been a horrible person, pretty much. Besides the Hydra shit, there was some speculation about his being responsible for an ‘accident’ that burned down his parents’ vacation home. And I found some old blog posts from a girl who probably dated him in high school - don’t give me that look, Jem, it wasn’t hard to find - who didn’t know what he was and when she found out and freaked out at him, he got violent. The cops laughed her off the phone.”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” scoffs Nebula. “He had a couple different girls, from what I heard. Didn’t keep ‘em around long. Mostly him and his Nazi buddies went around fucking shit up and being dicks to everyone. Leering and shit. I know they set cars on fire a lot.”

“Because that has a lot of impact,” Lorelei mutters, sipping her coffee.

“When you like terrorizing high schoolers, yeah,” replies Nebula. “You weren’t there, you don’t know.”

“Not everyone is quite so aloof in their forms of social warfare,” Raina murmurs to Lorelei, and it sounds like it’s a compliment.

Rolling her eyes, Nebula continues, “If you weren’t bigger or faster than them, you could pretty much count on being targeted at least once. They liked to follow girls who were walking alone. A couple yards back, not talking to them or anything, just cause they knew it would scare the shit out of them.”

“I think that’s a thing for him,” Raina muses. “Skirting the visible line of propriety, turning it into a power play. He doesn’t like to say anything that will make him definitively sound like an asshole, but he’ll talk - and act - around it for hours.”

Jemma winces. “Even just casually, he does that,” she agrees.

“That means he’s conscious of himself,” Carina says softly. “He knows what someone can use against him.”

“Yeah,” replies Skye. “He knows, and he’s been doing this for years, and people just let him get away with it.”

Fitz whimpers a bit. “What can we do?” he whispers, voice shaking. “I...I’m glad I’ve never taken him on by myself, but he’s terrifying.”

Jemma casts him a sympathetic smile before saying, “I think what we’ve got to do is help Kara, but I’m not sure how.”

“We can’t technically do anything unless she wants to leave,” says Trip with a sigh. “If we try to get her out, she might just dig in her heels. Until she asks, all we can do is keep an eye on her and be safe places. We can’t save her; she has to do that herself.”

“There’s nothing we could do to Ward?” Jemma asks in a whisper, sounding like she means it as a threat.

Clint coughs. “I, uh, tried giving him an ass-kicking a little while ago. Didn’t work that well. But Bobbi and some others were better at it and it didn’t seem to do shit, besides piss him off.”

“That might be a useful reason to set cars on fire,” Carina murmurs, mostly to Lorelei (who tries not to show how alarming she finds this sudden change in disposition).

“He seems to be a narcissist, from what I’ve observed,” chimes in Wanda. “As well as having sociopathic tendencies. Such people do not respond well to discipline or punishment.”

“I mean, she could crash at our place if she needed to,” Nebula says. “Gamora wouldn’t care. She’d probably be thrilled that I was being all altruistic.”

Carina raises an eyebrow, one that means that Nebula is adorable when she pretends not to care. “I’d be willing to let her stay with me, too, even though my place is so small.”

“I dunno how she’d feel about staying with a dude, but my place is open,” says Trip.

“Maybe I should tell the internet about this?” Skye says. “Y’know, here’s what’s up, put your name down if she could crash with you? And maybe if she needs a ride to and from work, or anything, or to the store. I don’t think she has a car or anything.”

Trip’s nodding. “So a network, kind of? Smart.”

“You’re brilliant,” Jemma murmurs, kissing Skye’s cheek. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Just being… I don’t know, exactly, available. I’m sure lots of the others would be interested in helping, Bobbi and, and Sharon and hers, and…” She shrugs.

“Even if she does pull herself out, she’s going to be - I hesitate to say fragile because I don’t know her,” Raina says. “But she might not be consistent, she might…” A shrug. “Fluctuate. It’s one of the hardest things in the world to do.”


	59. look back don't you dare let me start to do that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara hasn't shown up to therapy for a while and the others are concerned; they go for post-session Applebee's to try to comfort themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for discussion of abusive relationships.

Moira sighs and looks at the clock on the wall. “It’s five past,” she murmurs. “Did any of the rest of you hear from Kara?”

“No,” grunts Nebula, actually looking worried.

“The last few times she’s missed group, she’s at least phoned beforehand,” Moira says. She straightens the papers on her clipboard to give herself something to do while one of the other girls hopefully offers insight.

“Shit,” Carina whispers, going pale.

“Is something going on that I don’t know about?” Moira asks.

Nebula glances at Carina, who nods, and then replies, “She’s been seeing this guy who’s bad news.”

“Has anyone heard from her lately?” Laura asks. “I have not, but she didn’t talk to me much.”

“Not from her, but what I’ve heard about her isn’t nice,” Carina mumbles.

MJ clears her throat. “I saw her at the coffee shop a few days ago, but she was with Ward and I didn’t...I didn’t want to get involved. He, uh, he kind of reminds me of my dad.”

“Ward is the boyfriend?” Moira asks, to which the others nod. “MJ, you know it’s important to keep yourself safe, especially in situations like these.”

Still looking a bit guilty, MJ nods.

“Is there a reason that we’re concerned about this boy?” Moira asks warily, frowning.

“He called Raina many names, and used handcuffs improperly,” says Laura.

“Yeah, he’s also a Nazi,” adds Nebula. “He gets off on scaring and controlling people. I went to school with him, he’s a fucking asshole.”

Moira wrinkles her nose thoughtfully. “Is this the boy who was bad for your friend earlier, Carina?” she asks.

Carina nods again. “Except that’s when he was with Raina, and now he’s with Kara and he’s hurting her and Raina did it on purpose but Kara didn’t and I feel as if it’s my fault.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Well, if I’d just been up-front, managed to tell Kara to look out,” Carina mumbles. “Although I didn’t have any idea he’d manage to sink his claws into her.”

Nebula grabs Carina’s hand. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not.”

Carina, rather unsurprisingly, is starting to cry as she says, “I just feel - I feel like if I can help other people learn from what I know, from having been through… then that makes it a little less awful. But if I can’t, I’m just watching it happen all over again. And it’s not even about me, I don’t have any right to make it about me, I just can’t help it.”

Moira passes a box of tissues over. “It’s completely understandable that you feel that way,” she says. “This is about Kara right now, but it’s also about how you’re revisiting some trauma of your own. And that’s very hard and nobody is criticizing you for being upset about it, or about the fact that things went out of control before you could help your friend avoid something similar.”

MJ shudders. “I haven’t even really seen this guy in action too much and I can barely look at him without seeing my dad.”

Rogue nods. “From what I hear, he’s controllin’ her the way my...my other parents used to.”

“Yeah.” MJ’s not crying, but her voice is a little ragged. “I mean, and my dad wasn’t even all that bad, he didn’t...he didn’t hit me much, he mostly just yelled, but...it was...and my mom…”

“We heard Ward saying something about -” Carina drops her voice in a shoddy imitation. “Don’t worry, she’ll be right where I left her.” She sniffles and shakes her head. “I don’t have any proof but I know what he meant.”

“I heard that multiple people have tried to stop him and nothing’s worked,” says Nebula. “Y’know, with fists.”

“You’ve heard or you know?” Moira has to ask.

“Well, yeah, I saw Ma- I mean, I saw someone come into a bar all fucked up after a fight with him.”

“But you haven’t been putting yourself in danger?”

Nebula shakes her head. “I wanted to, though. I mean, I wanted to go slice him up.”

“But you say it hasn’t been working?” Moira asks. “When these unnamed others dispense justice.”

“‘Parently not,” chimes in Rogue, “if he’s still bein’ a dickwad.”

“Has anyone tried to get the law involved?” Moira asks.

Laura shakes her head. “That’s inadvisable. There are several high-ranking officers who belong to Hydra, and many more low-ranking ones.”

“Are you sure that isn’t just a rumor?” Moira murmurs, although she would believe it.

“Logan told me. He knows things like that.”

“I went to Kara’s apartment,” Carina mumbles. “Ka - a friend of ours gave me the address. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do but I felt like I had to do something. She wasn’t home, though.”

Nebula’s head whips around. “You did _what_?” she says, almost snarls.

“I went to her apartment,” Carina repeats. “I wasn’t thinking, but I was just - I was worried!”

“Idiot,” replies Nebula, but she puts her arm around Carina to pull her closer. “Don’t do shit like that, okay? Not by yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Carina whispers against Nebula’s shoulder, where her face is currently pressed.

Moira averts her eyes, feeling this is a bit too personal for her. “She makes a reasonable point,” she says. “In situations like this, especially for you guys, it’s always going to be better to handle things in groups, to have someone who’s got your back. Don’t walk into the line of fire if you don’t have to, but if you do…” She shrugs, attempts a lame smile. “Buddy system.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, you lot look like every single one of your dogs just got run over,” says Lance, trying to be sympathetic.

“None of us have any dogs,” replies Laura, tilting her head in confusion. “But we have come from a very frustrating therapy session. We would like to help our friend, but we can’t.”

Well, _that’s_ way over his pay grade. He winces. “Rough. Er, can I offer you some drinks to take your mind off of it?”

“I’m driving home,” Carina says apologetically. “That’s very sweet of you, though.”

“I’m not,” says Nebula. “Gimme a beer. Whatever’s strongest.”

“Strawberry lime margarita, thanks,” drawls Rogue.

Laura and MJ shake their heads to alcohol, though MJ orders a Coke.

“Right. Any appetizers?”

“I wouldn’t argue mozzarella sticks,” Carina offers.

“I’ll get that for you, then.” Lance strides off.

“He didn’t look at us strangely like he does when Lorelei’s with us,” comments Laura.

“Gee, I wonder why,” snarks Nebula.

“They had… something, I’m not sure what,” Carina says. “I don’t understand the politics of sex, honestly.”

MJ chuckles. “I don’t even get what was up with that.”

They’re all quiet for a moment before Rogue says, “I just hope she figures it out and gets the hell out of there soon.”

“I hope, too,” Carina mumbles, squeezing Nebula’s hand so she doesn’t start crying in Applebee’s.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about this anymore,” says MJ quickly. “Let’s, uh…” She trails off, trying to think of a conversation topic.

It’s Laura who chimes in, “Are they on a date?” She’s staring at a table on the far wall, where Maya and Maria are sitting across from each other and laughing about something.

“I’m not sure?” Carina chirps. “I mean, I know that Maya got Maria to do the fashion show, but I haven’t… heard… anything?”

Laura frowns. “They seem to be flirting. Maya is leaning across the table and Maria is touching her more than is customary. Why don’t they decide to date? Or at least sleep together. I’m sure they would feel better.”

Nebula shrugs. “I don’t get people with sex drives.”

“They’re kinda like somethin’ out of a TV show,” says Rogue with a grin. “Y’know, that take three seasons to get together.”

“They’re sort of cute,” Carina muses.

“If you like that kind of thing,” mutters Nebula, running her other hand down Carina’s back.

Maya’s hair has been tied up in a messy bun that seems to be slipping down her head slowly, until finally it falls, letting some of her hair flop into her face. She laughs and says something as she reaches to fix it, but before she can Maria tucks it behind her ear.

“Awww,” Carina coos before she can stop herself.

“Precious,” agrees MJ.

Rogue smirks. “This is downright silly.”

It’s at some point during the girls’ conversation that Maya looks up and catches, or not catches but certainly notices, them staring. “Have you made some new friends?” Maya asks, waving.

“Uh. Not that I’m aware of?” Maria raises an eyebrow. She recognizes them from trivia, and of course the pink-haired one works at Hot Topic, but she hasn’t really spoken to any of them before.

“They kind of seem like they’re watching us,” Maya offers by way of explanation.

“Huh.” Maria glances over at them, chuckling when the ones who are staring mostly look away guiltily. “I didn’t think I was that interesting.”

“Maybe it’s a slow night,” Maya says, shrugging sheepishly. “But, for what it’s worth, I think you are.”


	60. I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events force Kara to evaluate her current situation; others rally around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of all the abuse.

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence?” Irani asks, somehow managing to convey both anxiety and mild disdain in the same sentence.

Karen frowns at her phone. “You mind if I try calling again?”

“Please do.”

So Karen does, hitting redial and then speaker and frowning even more when it goes to voicemail. “Uh, Kara, I don’t know if you’re even gonna… call me back, okay? Irani and I are worried sick.”

“Did you hear from her over the weekend?” Irani asks.

“Huh-uh,” Karen mumbles. “I mean, I don’t, usually. She’s busy with…”

“That young man, yes, I know.” Irani frowns. “Do you think perhaps I should give Nicholas a call?”

“What, like… disciplinary action?” Karen shrugs. “I kinda figure he doesn’t like Ward because one, nobody likes Ward and two, uh, Ward’s-a-Nazi reasons, but I didn’t know he could do anything if it wasn’t on mall property.”

“Hm, I suppose you’re right. Well, it was worth asking anyhow.” Irani shrugs. “Er, just between you and me, if you’d like to keep trying to reach her I would turn a blind eye.”

“Who is there to get upset about that?” Karen asks with a tiny smile. “I report to you, and you report to… nobody.”

Irani smirks. “Well. I just thought I should keep up appearances.”

“Duly noted,” Karen chuckles, hitting redial.

 

* * *

 

Moira’s eating breakfast - stalling a bit because, well, it’s Monday - and idly reading an article a former colleague posted on Facebook when her phone suddenly rings. Startled, she answers. “Hello?”

“Dr. MacTaggert?” Kara’s voice on the line is shaky, like she’s either been crying or is about to start. “I… something… Idon’tmeantobotheryoubutyousaidwecouldcallifweneededsomething?”

“Yes, of course, ah,” says Moira, switching into therapist mode. “Kara?”

“Hi,” Kara says, sounding despondent. “I didn’t know who else to call, and…”

“What do you need?” Moira tries to keep her tone even, calming.

Kara falters for a few seconds before replying. “I was just going to suck it up and deal with it, I mean he wouldn’t have hurt me for no good reason, but it, it hurts a lot and I can’t drive myself to the hospital and anyway I’d feel better having someone with me and I really don’t want to take any time out of your morning but I don’t know what to do.”

Before she can stop herself, Moira lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Of course I’ll help you,” she says. “Let me just put my shoes on and then I’ll be on my way, all right? What’s your address?” She writes down what Kara says and then adds, “All right. Are you safe, for the moment? Would you like me to stay on the line with you?” She hopes this means the bastard’s gone, because if he’s there, Moria’s not sure she wouldn’t throttle him.

“I… I think I’m fine, yeah,” Kara mumbles. “Would you? I mean, it’s not a big deal but… y’know. I don’t wanna be…” Alone, she means, though she can’t bring herself to say it.

“I will,” replies Moira. “I’ll put you on speakerphone.” Doing so, she grabs her purse and slips on her shoes before picking up her phone again and heading out to her car. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, Kara.”

“Thank you,” Kara sighs, and the tears seem imminent.

Quickly Moira says, “Have I ever told you about my cat? His name is Kevin and he’s ginger, he’s very sweet. This morning I got up and I found him curled up in an empty box I’d left sitting on the counter. He likes boxes.”

“That’s cute,” Kara sniffles. “Cats and boxes kind of go together, huh?”

“They do. I’ve never had a cat that could walk past a box. Though I did have one when I was much younger that liked to come in the shower with me…”

Moira keeps up the cat stories until she arrives at the apartment complex, driving in a way that could charitably be described as “reckless.” Then she says, “All right, I’m coming up now. Is your, er, is he there with you?”

“He left,” Kara murmurs. “He’s at work, probably.”

“All right. Well, you’ll have to buzz me in, then, can you manage that?”

“I… yeah,” Kara says, with some effort, likely starting to will herself to move.

Moira makes her way to the door and waits for the telltale buzz, then goes to the appropriate door and knocks. The door opens with a click and there’s Kara, cradling one arm with the other and sporting the beginnings of a nasty black eye.

“Oh my god,” says Moira. “What…” She takes a moment to gather herself. “You can tell me on the way to the hospital.”

Kara nods, and it looks like it takes some effort. “Thank you,” she says shakily.

Moira reaches to put her arm around Kara. “Do you need to grab anything before we leave?”

“My phone is…” Wrinkling her nose, she holds it up. “And I… there’s nothing else I need. Not right now.”

“All right. Then let’s go.” Moira guides her out the door and down towards the parking lot.

“Thank you,” Kara says again. “I mean, you didn’t have to…”

“I did,” replies Moira. Once she’s got Kara settled in the car and started towards the hospital, she asks, “How...how did this happen?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, whatcha looking at?” asks Ward, pulling his uniform shirt on over his Under Armour.

“Just Facebook,” Kara says sweetly, glancing up from her phone. “There’s another one of those roller derbies next week, I was thinking it could be fun.”

He frowns. “I thought I told you we wouldn’t be going to any more of those.”

“I mean…” She shrugs, choosing her words very carefully. “You wouldn’t have to? I kinda want to see what it’s about, but I’m not going to… if you don’t…” She trails off, finding her conviction disappears with each word.

“I really don’t think you should,” he says. “I wouldn’t be around to protect you if something went wrong.”

“What… what do you mean by that?” she asks, sounding small and scared. “I’d be in a stadium full of people, and…”

“I just don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“But you go out and do things with _your_ friends,” Kara retorts before she can think better of it.

“Kara,” he says, with a sickening smile, “you don’t have _friends_. People just pity you.”

“I…” She blinks a few times, trying to erase his expression from her vision. “I, I have…”

He sighs. “I didn’t want to have to do this. It hurts me more than it’s gonna hurt you.”

 

* * *

 

“And, and I’m _sure_ he didn’t mean to hurt me, he doesn’t usually, not like this,” Kara stammers. “I said the wrong things, I had it coming.”

“You didn’t,” replies Moira. “You didn’t deserve this, Kara.” Then she pauses. “Has he behaved that way before?”

Kara nods, like she doesn’t trust herself with words.

Moira cycles through a string of curses in her head before exhaling and saying, “How long has this been going on?”

“Well, we started… we first went out this summer,” Kara says hesitantly. “I don’t remember when he got… he has, he has a way of shaping your answers for you, I guess? One way or another, he’ll win any argument.”

Moira nods. “Some people have that ability, yes.”

“And, and somewhere along the line, he started persuading less and less with words and…”

“You don’t have to say more than you want to,” says Moira gently.

“He likes the stomach,” Kara whispers. “Nobody’s going to be looking there, right? Nobody will suspect anything. Or thighs. Not that anyone is going to spend too long looking at me, I’m nothing special, but…”

“You are,” Moira replies, wishing very badly to set this man on fire. “His abuse does not reflect on your worth as a person.”

“What worth is that?” Kara asks softly. “He never hesitated to let me know just how lucky I was.”

“He was wrong. You’re a wonderful person, Kara. I care very much about you and so do the other girls at group. They worried about you, you know, when you didn’t come.”

Kara rubs at her eyes furiously. “ _You don’t have friends, Kara_ , he’d say,” she mutters. “Or _who else is going to look twice at you with a face like that?_ Or, or _you had better like_ \- _had better_ -” She shakes her head angrily, which only serves to make her groan with pain.

“Don’t overtax yourself,” says Moira gently. “Every word out of his mouth was a lie. He wanted you to think those things so that you wouldn’t leave him.”

“But it felt so real,” Kara whispers. “And he, he would make dinner sometimes, or sometimes he would just kiss me out of the blue, and I thought, maybe this is the best it’s going to get.”

“It’s not.” Moira shakes her head. “There are hundreds, thousands of men better than him.”

Kara lets out a sob. “And now I’m just, I’ve been broken twice, why would they bother?”

“You’re not broken, Kara. You’ve been through a lot of trauma, but all that says about you is that you’ve survived.” Moira turns into the hospital parking garage and finds a spot. “Let’s go get you taken care of, all right?”

 

* * *

 

“Thank Christ,” Karen exclaims when her phone rings, ignoring Garth and Rhomann’s surprised and mildly scandalized looks.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end is decidedly not Kara; she has an accent. “Is this Karen?”

“Hi, yeah, it’s… who is this?” Karen asks, and she can hear her heart thudding but she really doesn’t like the idea of strangers having gotten hold of Kara’s phone for god knows what reason.

“This is Moira MacTaggert. I’m Kara’s therapist. I’m just calling to let you know that she’s, er, at the hospital.”

“Shit!” Karen cries, so loud that she catches Irani’s attention. “Oh my god, is she - what happened?”

There’s a long pause. “She has a concussion and a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. From what she’s said, her boyfriend…he was the cause.”

“ _Fucker_ ,” Karen hisses.

Irani glances up, startled. “What’s happened?”

“Kara’s goddamn fuckin’ boyfriend, he, he…”

“Are you still there?” Moira asks.

“Yeah,” Karen says. “Sorry, I was just - my boss, _our_ boss, was just askin’ what the deal is.”

“Understandable,” says Moira. “Anyhow, I wanted to let _someone_ know where she was, since she says her mother’s out of state and she doesn’t seem to have any other local family. She’ll be here at least overnight, since they want to keep her for observation. Do you think perhaps you could come and, er…”

“Of course,” Karen says immediately. “Yeah, just give me a little while to sort a few things out and I’ll be there. Thank you for lettin’ me know.”

“You’re welcome. I can stay here with her at least until you get here. I don’t want her to be alone right now, I have a terrible feeling that man might try to force his way in once he figures out she’s not where he thinks she is.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Karen agrees darkly. “So, y’know, thanks for lookin’ out for her, too. That’s really awesome of you.”

“Of course. It’s my duty as her doctor, and also as someone who cares about her.” Moria’s quiet for a moment. “I’m so very sorry.”

“You don’t need to say that to me,” Karen replies, but it comes out soft.

When Karen hangs up, Irani is fuming. “Rarely have I felt the need to use explicit language, but what in the _fuck_ do we do about this?”

“I don’t know!” Karen exclaims, sounding horrified and scared all at once. “He dislocated her _fucking_ shoulder, Irani, he could’ve done so much worse.”

Irani shakes her head. “I am going to ban him from this entire building. And I’m going to give Nicholas and his force permission to use force to eject him from the premises.”

“Can I use the computer for something not strictly work-related?” Karen asks hurriedly. “I need to let some people know some… things.”

“Of course.” Irani’s looking distracted. “I’m stepping out of the office for a few minutes anyhow.”

“Cool,” Karen mutters, already logging into the secret internet. “Where are you going, if you’re allowed to tell me?”

“The security office. This policy is effective immediately.” Irani stands up and strides toward the door. “I may not be able to keep him at bay elsewhere, but this is my mall and I will not have him in it.”

 

* * *

 

 **THIS IS NOT A DRILL THIS IS AN EMERGENCY •** _WendyDarling_ , 14-September-2015

_Kara Palamas is in the hospital and Grant Ward put her there._

_Her doctor told me she’s got a concussion and a dislocated shoulder and some bruising and I’m sure that’s not the half of it. Skye, you’d started that help wanted list, I think it’s gonna be needed. I’m going to see her pretty much as soon as I finish writing this and I’ll report back but I thought you all needed to know so you can start mobilizing._

_I think we need to take the fucker down._

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” says Foggy cheerfully as they enter the hospital room. “How are you feeling?”

There’s a magazine in Kara’s lap, one of the ones that a nurse brought her from the lobby, but she hasn’t really been reading it (turning pages takes more effort than she wants to put in) and it still takes her a moment to look up and manage a reaction. But it’s Karen and her boys and Akela and she feels at least a little more comfortable with them, except for the part where the last time she saw Akela she acted so horribly so she feels panic kicking up in her chest, but -

“I’m okay,” she manages to say, trying to smile.

“Good,” says Akela, offering her a smile of her own. “Foggy brought you a present.”

“Oh!” Foggy starts as if he’s forgotten the bag in his hand. “Um, it’s not much but…” He carefully comes over to put it next to her and pulls out a bag of expensive dark chocolates. “Karen said you like these?”

Kara raises an eyebrow, and her voice sounds distant when she says, “Grant didn’t let me have dark chocolate.” As if to illustrate what she feels about that, she tears the bag open and pops one in her mouth.

“Your, ah, doctor… friend, she told me you were here, is it okay we came to see you?” Karen asks hesitantly.

“Yes, yeah, of - of course,” Kara falters, looking for a second like she thinks there’s a right and wrong answer to the question and she’s afraid of guessing incorrectly.

“Is it, would it be okay if I gave you a hug?” Karen adds.

“Yeah,” Kara says softly, surprising herself with how instantly she responds.

“I’ll be really careful,” Karen promises, and she steps forward to wrap her arms around Kara as best she can without interference from the injured shoulder or the bed. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she adds as quietly as she can.

That catches Kara even more off-guard, so after returning the hug halfway she focuses on smiling at the others, a bit more confidently. “It’s nice to see you,” she says.

“You too,” says Matt with a smirk. “Or, hear you. You sound happier.”

“Oh!” Kara exclaims. She recovers quickly enough to quip, “Good drugs,” but her heart isn’t really in it.

Foggy smiles at her. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay too. I know we haven’t really talked, but if Karen likes you, you gotta be okay.”

“Likewise,” Kara replies, almost like she’s trying to be playful even though it comes out sounding more sheepish than anything.

“Irani wishes she could’ve come, too,” Karen says. “She was gonna send flowers but I didn’t know if you’d want any, so I’m supposed to let her know.”

“I don’t need flowers,” Kara says immediately, like she’s been trained out of wanting things, but then a wave crosses her expression and she adds, “Send more dark chocolate. I want to eat so much of the stuff I feel sick.”

Matt chuckles. “We can do that.”

“She said she’d try to come by later, so I’ll pass the message along,” Karen declares. “I’m not sure who all else is… but I know everyone is worried about you.”

“Why?” Kara asks before she really thinks about it.

Karen frowns. “‘Cause that jackass could’ve killed you and nobody wants a thing like that to happen,” she manages. “‘Cause they care about you.”

“Oh,” Kara repeats.

“Yes.” Akela nods. “If you’d like, I could murder Ward for you. I’d be discreet.”

“I’d help,” says Matt, ignoring Foggy’s squawk of protest.

Kara’s eyes go impossibly wide.

“They’re kidding!” says Foggy quickly. “Sorry, Kara, they’re just kidding. _Right?_ ” He turns to glare at Matt.

“Well, not if you take me up on it,” says Matt.

Akela frowns. “I was not kidding.”

“I’m not sure I ought to talk about that right now,” Kara murmurs. “I might say something I’m going to regret.”

“Well, he deserves it,” Karen says quietly.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t mind me, just hacking,” Skye mutters as she walks into Kara’s room, typing something on her phone. After about thirty seconds, she glances up and grins. “Okay, done.”

“Hacking?” Kara asks, puzzled.

“She, uh, does that,” says Fitz, looking nervous. “Sorry.” He just about ducks behind Trip.

“It’s all right,” Kara murmurs.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” Jemma asks, frowning sympathetically as she steps closer to Kara’s bed (she doesn’t want Kara to have to exert herself by talking across the entire room).

“A bit,” Kara echoes, trying for a smile. She tilts her head at the girls, then. “I’ve met you two before, haven’t I?”

Skye nods. “Yeah, at trivia.” She glances at Jemma and nudges her with her elbow.

“Which, speaking of that,” Jemma says, fumbling in her bag for a moment and extracting a small, tissue paper-wrapped item. “We were going to give this to you then, but…”

“ _Someone_ got in the way,” finishes Skye, making a face.

“So, here,” Jemma says, handing Kara the present. “It was one of the only ones left, because everyone else had already chosen, but we hope you like it.”

Kara rips the wrapping off mostly one-handed and pulls out a figurine of Sally the ragdoll from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. The irony isn’t lost on her: stitched-up broken doll from an abusive situation. But she knows somehow that it’s meant in earnest, meant with affection even, not meant as judgment but instead as encouragement of a kind.

Or it might just truly be one of the only toys they had lying around and she’s overanalyzing. Whatever the case, she smiles wider and says, blinking back tears, “Thank you. It’s - you’re bringing me a gift and taking time out of your day to come see me and we barely know each other and that means so much and I don’t even know your names?” That last is said to the boys, who she’s seen around, in particular at that round of trivia, but never been formally introduced to.

“I’m Trip,” says Trip with a smile. “Nice to meet you for real, though I wish it was in a different context.”

“I do too,” Kara says shyly.

“And I’m Fitz. I’m, uh, I’m very sorry about what happened.”

Kara shrugs carefully. “Well, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault but my own.”

“No it wasn’t,” says Skye, and it comes out more aggressive than she means to. “None of it was your fault. He’s an awful abusive asshole who deserves a punch in the neck.”

“He… you had a, a confrontation with him, that night at trivia,” Kara recalls, frowning. “Has he…?”

Skye shakes her head. “God, no. He’s just bugged the shit out of me and my friends and he really, _really_ wants to fuck me.”

“I sort of figured that part out,” Kara murmurs, suddenly very shy. “One night, I’m sorry if this is too much information, one night he was having a… dream about you. I heard him say your name. When I asked him about it the next morning he said something about how it didn’t really matter, a guy’s allowed to have his fantasies. Dreams can be better than real life, after all.”

That makes Skye full-body shudder. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That’s...holy shit.”

“I mean, most days I feel like he was right about that at least a little,” Kara mumbles. “Grant made it very clear, and that on top of what I already…” She waves dismissively at her face.

“He’s an asshole,” says Trip. “I think you’re plenty cute.”

“And,” chimes in Fitz shyly, “and Sally the ragdoll, she learned how to stitch herself back together, and you can do that too, I’m sure.”

Kara blinks, surprised. “Thank you,” she says very timidly, tucking hair behind her ear. “You’re really… sweet. All of you.”

“It’s the right thing,” Jemma says assuredly. “And what’s more, you seem interesting and friendly and therefore we’d like to be your friends, if you’d like that too.”

“That’s adorably formal,” says Skye, “but yeah, totally. Have you ever seen _Pacific Rim_?”

“I don’t think so?” Kara shakes her head. “Should I?”

“Oh my god, you have to come over and watch it with us sometime, it’s so good,” gushes Skye, before she seems to remember where she is and calms down a little. “Anyway, yeah. My door’s always open.”

Kara blushes. “I’d like that, I think,” she decides.

“Mine is, too,” Jemma chimes in. “Fitz’s and mine. Our door. For whatever you need.”

“And mine,” says Trip. “I dunno if you’d wanna stay alone with a guy after, y’know, but. Offer’s open.”

“I, I’ll think about it,” Kara says. “I get the feeling you’re the okay kind of guy.”

Trip puts his hand over his heart. “Aw, shucks. Glad you think so.”

“He is!” says Fitz eagerly, squeezing Trip’s hand. “He’s the best.”

“We’ll all vouch for him, too,” Jemma chirps. “Obviously.”

Skye snickers. “That’s so cute, Fitz is showing Trip off. I didn’t think he’d ever be that comfortable.”

“It’s rather remarkable,” Jemma agrees airily. To Kara she says, “I think that’s further proof of Trip’s magic.”

“That’s cool,” Kara says. “You guys all seem really…”

“Disgustingly affectionate?” Jemma quips.

“Effortlessly cool?” Skye asks.

“Together,” Kara concludes. “I think, ah, I think that I understand why Grant didn’t want me hanging around other… I mean, I can just look at all of you and see how something healthy is supposed to be.” She frowns. “Nothing like him.”

Trip quickly says, “Hey, so you know that Loki guy who works at Hot Topic? Broody, likes to talk about capitalism a lot? Well, today I heard him raising hell about the Halloween display at Claire’s - I guess he thought it was disrespectful towards Wiccans? He said he knows some?”

“He knows Lorelei’s sister,” interjects Skye. “And he wants to show Lorelei his broomstick, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what that means, yes,” Jemma snarks cheerfully.

“What’s disrespectful about a lot of candy corn jewelry?” Kara asks, smiling weakly.

Trip shrugs. “Dunno, but it was enough to rile him up. It was pretty funny.”

“Isn’t he the one that manages to protest pretty much every holiday?” Kara asks.

Fitz nods. “Christmas is capitalist, and so’s Valentines. I think he said Thanksgiving was a...a holiday invented to make America feel better about genocide and also for families to pretend they weren’t dysfunctional. I don’t remember the others.”

“Easter is an excuse for Christians to feel superior or for parents to placate children with candy so they feel like their parents love them,” Jemma chimes in, nodding sagely. “I heard this over a bowl of cookie dough ice cream once, as if dishing out one’s ice cream makes me akin to a bartender one tells one’s troubles to.”

There might be more to this story, but she’s interrupted by a knock at the door, one that serves as a prelude to Bobbi’s entrance. “Hey,” she says to the group at large, and then more directly to Kara, “Hey. Are you feeling all right?”

“Been better, but I’m all right,” Kara says.

“Guys, could I have a minute alone?” Bobbi says to the kids.

“Of course!” Jemma exclaims, hopping out of her seat and scurrying for the door, waving the others along. “Get well, Kara!”

“Yeah, lemme know if you wanna come over sometime,” Skye calls over her shoulder.

“Let me guess,” Bobbi says, smirking as she pulls up a seat. “She invited you over for _Pacific Rim_ , didn’t she?”

Kara nods. “Is that a thing for her?”

“Yeah,” Bobbi says. “It’s pretty cute. The thing she has, not the movie itself. Although that’s fun too.”

“I’ll have to take her up on that sometime,” Kara murmurs.

“Anyway, I brought you some delightfully disgusting fast food at Karen’s recommendation,” Bobbi declares, setting a paper bag on Kara’s tray table. “I know hospital food can just be disgusting-disgusting, so I’m compensating.”

“Thanks,” Kara says, and she concentrates on pulling the burger and fries out as she asks, not without a hint of suspicion, “Why the sudden need for alone time with me?”

Bobbi takes a deep breath. “It’s kind of a long story,” she sighs.

“Try me. I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s said with more resolve than Bobbi has ever heard in Kara’s voice, so she decides to cut to the chase. “I’ve sort of been keeping an eye on this… situation,” she admits.

“This… you mean, with Grant and I?” Kara asks in a whisper.

Bobbi nods.

“Is that why you approached me at the roller derby party?”

Another nod. “I, uh, I heard there might be shit going down. It seemed like the right thing.”

“We barely even know each other,” Kara says, suddenly seeming very confused.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t right,” Bobbi replies.

Kara mulls this over for a minute, not saying anything, but (and maybe it’s just the drugs or maybe it’s the trauma or maybe or maybe) her brain keeps snagging on the word “right” and very carefully she says, “Wouldn’t _right_ have been actually doing something about it instead of just watching him hurt me?”

For a split second Bobbi looks stunned by the question, but then she murmurs, “We tried to do something. We tried to do what we were able to do without putting you in even more danger.”

This doesn’t assuage Kara, though. “I don’t know how many times I was out somewhere with him and someone could have just whisked me off, pulled me out of there, but _apparently_ that was more dangerous than whispering about me patronizingly.”

“If we forced you away from him, we’d be as bad as him!” Bobbi shouts before she realizes she’s shouting, suddenly on the edge of her seat. “We’d be in the same - we couldn’t force you to do anything. That’s not right.” Kara is still staring at her defiantly, which could account for the attitude in her tone when she adds, “It’s not like people didn’t try talking you away from him.”

Kara visibly bristles at that, but if she thinks back it’s not a lie. Maya and Pepper’s intervention, Sif at the movie theater, Akela in the park. And she was just too desperate for affection, even at that cost, to notice.

And Bobbi can see that going across her face, or not _that_ exactly but something serious, so she softens before the adds, “I’m sure you noticed that he kept coming home beat to shit, why do you think that was?”

Kara frowns. “He didn’t want to talk about it,” she says. “He’d mutter ‘dumb c… c-bombs’ under his breath a few times, but I thought he was just mad that some of his friends got the better of him. I started to think maybe they had some kind of Fight Club.”

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if they did, but no,” Bobbi shakes her head. “We didn’t know what else to do. We thought maybe we’d get the message across. And if it didn’t work when one person did it, maybe someone else would succeed.”

“Did he know that’s why?” Kara asks.

“We weren’t exactly subtle,” Bobbi says with a small smirk. “Unfortunately, neither was he.”

“Why didn’t you just call the cops?” Kara presses, her voice small.

Bobbi’s eyebrows knit together. “It wouldn’t exactly do any good, considering there are cops on the force who are also members of Hydra,” she explains, careful not to patronize. “It actually might have made it worse.”

“I didn’t know there were cops in Grant’s gang,” Kara murmurs.

“But you knew they were a gang,” Bobbi says. Off Kara’s nod, she asks, “What else did you know about them?”

“Well,” Kara says, making a face like she doubts even what she’s remembering, “I know they liked to hang out together. A lot of them went to that school. They liked to do crazy things together and talk rough, but I’m not sure how much of it was serious.” She shrugs helplessly. “Some of them did seem sort of racist, but Grant told me not to let it bother me.”

“Hydra is a white supremacist gang,” Bobbi says gently, or as gently as one can say such a thing. “They get their rocks off on harassing people they see as weaker than them and manipulating people to their will.” She doesn’t go on to explain how that would apply to Kara, but it’s pretty obvious.

“Just like - Maya and Pepper, they said something like, but I, I must have pushed it back," Kara whispers, clenching her fist.  “But if that's true, if they weren't lying, the deeply insecure new girl in town, the deeply insecure ‘racially inferior’ new girl in town, probably seemed like a choice trophy.”

“Hey,” Bobbi murmurs, leaning closer in case that’s the kind of comfort Kara wants. “Hey, but you’re not a trophy, all right? You’re a woman with rights and freedoms and choices and fuck him or anyone else who wants to take that away from you.”

“It’s just hard,” Kara says. “Hard when you go from being thrown around and treated like - like a door that just needed to be broken down to feeling ruined to hearing that you’re all right, not perfect but all right, but only if you can…”

“Can measure up,” Bobbi finishes, nodding. “But that’s the thing, Kara. Love, even _like_ , they shouldn’t be hinged on conditions. I know that’s hard to believe sometimes, I really do, but it’s worth trying to remember.”

“I -” But before Kara can finish that thought or really even start it, her phone starts to ring and immediately she freezes, her expression horrified. “It’s Grant, his ringer is different from everyone else’s so I’d know to…”

“You don’t have to pick up,” Bobbi says carefully. “You don’t. Let the asshat go straight to voicemail for the rest of all time.”

“He’s going to be so curious,” Kara says softly. “Curious and angry and he’ll want to - I shouldn’t have come here, I should have just let it be.”

Now Bobbi moves in to lay her hand over Kara’s, slow to make sure it’s all right. “He dislocated your goddamn shoulder, you had every right to come to the hospital,” she says. “And you have every right to ignore him if you don’t want to talk.”

“I’m afraid,” Kara whispers. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me.”

“He’s not going to do a damn thing to you because I’m not letting him get within ten feet of you,” Bobbi swears, eyes dark. “I’ll tear him apart if he tries.”

Kara blinks back tears (from nervousness, from shock at Bobbi’s promise). “I should at least play the voicemail,” she says, already sliding her fingers across her phone. “So I know what he knows. So you know.”

“Let me,” Bobbi says, and she manages to turn speaker off before the voicemail connects.

“Kara? Kara, baby, where are you?” Ward actually sounds concerned - or “concerned.” “I’ve been texting like crazy and you haven’t answered. I’m worried, I wanna know you’re okay. This morning was...a mistake, okay? Call me back.”

Bobbi cringes and she doesn’t even try to hide it, although she wishes she had when Kara’s expression grows even more worried and she exclaims, “He’s furious, isn’t he?”

“He says he’s worried,” Bobbi corrects, frowning.

“Worried? About me?” Kara looks like she doesn’t know what to believe. “Maybe I… maybe I misjudged him?”

“Or maybe he’s trying to make you think you misjudged him to drag you back in,” Bobbi says grimly. “He’s making you doubt your own perception so you rely on him.”

Kara sniffles. “He’s always been good at dancing around subjects,” she mumbles. “For a while I felt so _good_ with him. Like I could do what he said and do it well and make him happy and that was enough.”

“That’s because he wanted to mold you,” Bobbi says. “He wanted to make you believe in him more than anything else.”

“ _God_ ,” Kara cries, “how could I have been so fucking stupid?”

“You weren’t,” Bobbi insists. “You were vulnerable and he took advantage of you. Because he is a twisted douchefuck, not because of any flaw of yours.”

It’s no use, though, Kara has devolved into full-blown tears. “If he’s so wrong I should have known,” she sobs. “I should have been smart enough to tell him to fuck off instead of getting so lost at his side, letting him make me push everyone away, letting him drag me around like some prize pony he could take home and ride whenever he wanted.”

“ _No_ ,” Bobbi shouts, and it comes out more sharply than it’s intended. “I just mean - no. It happens. People can convince other people of all kinds of bullshit and it’s through no fault of the convinced party. All you can do is break the cycle when you notice it.”

“Is it all right if we come in?” Steve asks, appearing in the doorway.

“Shit, my face,” Kara exclaims, laughing despite her tears. “I look even worse than usual.”

“You look fine,” says Natasha gently. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“But I’m so embarrassed,” Kara murmurs. “Everyone is visiting, saying hello get well soon, being so sweet, and - and why _are_ you being so sweet? It’s not as if we…”

“We could be,” Bobbi offers.

Sam smiles. “We care about you.”

“That… I don’t know what to say to that,” Kara whispers.

“It’s okay,” replies Bucky. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

“You do?” Kara asks, biting her lip.

“Yeah,” he says, looking a bit shy. “Um, I used to be part of Hydra. I’m not proud of it. I did terrible things because I didn’t think I had a choice. Tasha was there for part of it.” He glances at her and she nods, reaching for his hand to squeeze it. “Finally I...I lost my arm and I called her while I was in the hospital. It was bad, I didn’t know what else to do. She and Steve came and took care of me, and she won’t tell me what she did, but now Hydra doesn’t bother me.”

“Trade secret,” Natasha says with a smirk.

Kara’s eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. “That’s… that’s so…”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m sorry too. Hydra are shit. It’s not fair that you got dragged into that.”

“I didn’t even know what they were,” she admits, flushing at her own ignorance. “I just thought… I don’t even know what I thought anymore.”

“You wanted to see the best in things,” Sharon suggests. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Things will get better,” Natasha says, smiling reassuringly.

 

* * *

 

“Any fours, Buck?” Sam asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “Go fish.”

“That was un-four-seen,” says Natasha, with a shit-eating grin.

Everyone groans and Bucky tosses his hand at her, careful not to aim them in Kara’s direction, since she’s napping. “Who let you in here!”

“I think we did, technically,” Sharon suggests, smirking.

“We’re done!” replies Sam. “No more! You’re out, Romanoff!”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Please, you’d miss me too much. I bring a pun-deniable charm.”

Sam and Bucky are booing when Mike enters the room. “Uh, hi,” he says, a bit awkwardly. “I didn’t know there was gonna be other people here.”

“We’re the guard dogs right now,” Steve explains with a smirk.

“Good plan.” Mike nods. “Um, should I come back a little later since she’s asleep? I brought her something, but...”

“M’awake,” Kara mumbles, rolling over and opening her eyes at the mention of herself. “Oh - oh god, I must look like a disaster. I’m so sorry!”

Mike shrugs. “‘s cool. I don’t really notice, honestly. I brought you a present, courtesy of me and Ace.” He holds up a cardboard box shaped like a house, obviously from Build-A-Bear.

“Oh!” Kara’s instinct is to insist she doesn’t need a present, but - the guy and his kid made it for her, and he came all the way over here to give it to her, and it would be rude not to. She smiles in what she hopes is a reassuring way and opens the box, inside of which is a fuzzy, soft light brown bear with a smile and a karate uniform. “It’s so sweet!” she exclaims.

Mike grins. “Glad you like it. Ace said - well, I didn’t tell him everything, but I said you got hurt and he said maybe if it was a black belt, it could help protect you.”

“That’s - that’s precious,” she murmurs, and in spite of herself she starts to cry again.

“Oh no, don’t…” Mike looks a bit lost.

Steve pushes out of his chair and sets his hand of cards down, immediately going to Kara’s side and murmuring, “Hey, it’s all right, just let it out, that’s fine.”

Bucky comes over to Kara’s other side to pat her arm gently.

Meanwhile, Natasha looks at Mike. “She’s kind of overwhelmed,” she explains. “And still processing all this. Poor girl hasn’t had a lot of kindness lately.”

“I get that,” says Mike. “Glad to, uh, help.”

“You’re wonderful,” Kara gasps, hiccuping as she tries to calm down. “You - we’ve barely even - but you…” She lets out a loud sob. “You’re so sweet, thank you.”

“Of course,” Mike replies gently.

Natasha beckons him toward the door. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, sure.” He follows her out, and they walk a few yards down the corridor.

“Okay,” she says once they’re definitely out of earshot. “So I don’t know if you know what the secret internet is, but it’s basically a place for some of us at the mall to post about stuff that’s going on. Skye made one suggesting we have a rotation going, of people to drive Kara to work and have her stay at their place and each lunch with her, stuff like that. To make sure Ward can’t get his paws on her again. You think you’d be up for any of that?”

Mike thinks for a moment. “I could do lunch. Probably not either of the other two, ‘cause I have Ace and all, but I’m willing to play guard dog at the mall.”

“Thank you.” Natasha smiles. “You’re a good man, Mike.”

He shrugs, looking bashful. “I try.”

 

* * *

 

“Stop wiggling,” a half-awake Sharon mutters, batting at Natasha’s shoulder. Only it’s the shoulder she’s currently leaning against and also her eyes are closed, so instead she winds up batting Natasha’s boobs. Oh well.

“No,” grunts Natasha, refusing to open her own eyes.

Bucky, draped uncomfortably across Steve’s lap, is snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Somehow, Steve is sleeping through this. Sam, meanwhile, is curled up at the foot of Kara’s bed.

“You guys are sickeningly cute,” says a new voice, one that’s familiar to Natasha. She opens her eyes to see Claire standing in the doorway, smirking. “How do you keep that up?”

“A rigorous checklist,” replies Natasha. “We have to get in at least two hours of cuddling a day.”

“Gross,” says Claire cheerfully. “So anyway, Karen told me what happened. I just came to let you guys know that I’ve talked to the staff here and they know to keep an eye out for Ward and not leave her alone.”

“Do you see why we had to pummel the guy?” Sharon asks softly.

Claire sighs. “Yeah. Still doesn’t mean I approve of it.” She shakes her head and adds, “You’re not gonna do it again, right?”

“Probably not.” Natasha shrugs.

“Not unless he gives us a good reason to, and none of us want that to happen,” Sharon says.

“Uh,” says Bucky, who seems more awake than he was two minutes ago, “you told them how serious this shit is, right? Like they won’t let him get anywhere near her?”

Claire nods. “They know. They’re good people, they’ll keep her safe. Also, I wouldn’t trust Matt not to come prowling around guarding the hospital.” She smirks. “I can’t do a damn thing to stop him.”

“I think a lot of us will be doing things like that,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” replies Sam, uncurling and stretching out. “We’ve got her back.”

“Good. Now, did she wake up at all last night, that any of you noticed? I know they have her on pain meds.”

“I don’t think so,” Sharon shrugs.

Sam shakes his head. “She didn’t move all night. I would’ve noticed.”

“That’s a good sign,” Claire says. “Alright, keep an eye on her and call for someone if she wakes up and seems scared or disoriented.”

“I gotta go to work, actually,” says Bucky, sounding guilty.

“Ssh, it’s fine,” Steve murmurs soothingly. “Someone’s gonna keep an eye on her, don’t worry. Hell, I’m sure most of us have to work today at some point.”

“I have a short shift this afternoon, but I can text Jean, she’ll cover me,” Sharon says. “So I can stay here as long as Kara wants me here.”

* * *

Claire’s heading out, toward the elevators, when she happens to look down and spots Grant Ward.

He’s walking confidently through the parking lot, hands in his pockets, and she’s about to step over toward the service desk to get help when suddenly, all the sprinklers outside go off at once.

Of course, she can’t hear whatever he’s yelling, but she can guess.

The sprinklers don’t stop until he’s soaked through, and he’s probably screaming something horrible but she can’t hear it so she feels okay chuckling behind her hand. Still yelling, he tries to keep going but that sets off the sprinklers again. Finally, he retreats, screaming and shaking his fists all the way.

Claire pulls out her phone to text Sharon.


	61. out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting is held to determine how to keep Kara safe for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: descriptions of police menacing and some mild police brutality; drunken Nazi and a gun in the final scene.
> 
> Note added after initial publication: obviously, police brutality and racism doesn't only happen if there are Nazi cops. It's likely that multiple incidents mentioned in this story involved garden variety racist cops. The way this chapter is written might imply otherwise, for which we apologize.

“How’s it tasting?” Foggy asks, obviously anxious. “Too much sauce, not enough? Should I have used less salt?”

Kara’s been staring at her plate as she eats, but there’s enough nervousness in the question that she makes sure to look up and try to smile reassuringly. “I think it’s nice,” she says softly. “It tastes nice.” A little shrug.

“Do you want any more water? Something else to drink?”

“Water for now,” she says. “I probably shouldn’t… not before we go, you know, do…” She shrugs again.

He nods and hops up to get the pitcher. “I just meant like soda or juice or something, but whatever you want.”

“He hasn’t been this mother-hen in a while,” Matt murmurs to Karen with a smirk.

“I think it’s sweet,” Karen whispers back.

“You know I can hear you,” Foggy calls back good-naturedly. “I might not have Matt’s ears, but I can still hear you.”

“I don’t mind you hearing that,” Karen chirps.

“It’s endearing,” Matt adds. “Just funny.”

Foggy rolls his eyes. “Ex _cuse_ me for wanting to make sure our guest is comfortable.”

“You really don’t need to fuss over me,” Kara says, not for the first time. “But I… you’re really, you’re being really good to me. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Foggy refills her water glass and sits back down.

Kara blushes, eyes darting back to her food. “I just… this means a lot to me, you all… taking me in,” she continues, blushing. “I got really lucky.”

“We’re happy to help,” says Matt gently. “For as long as you want it.”

“And hey, it’s not just by chance, okay?” Karen adds. “It’s because you’re awesome and I could kill that asshole for making you think otherwise.”

Kara sniffles and lets her smile widen shakily. “You’re so wonderful, all of you,” she murmurs.

“We try,” jokes Foggy.

“Also, please let us know if you’re uncomfortable in any way later tonight,” Matt adds. “It’s okay to be nervous, but we don’t want you to feel pressured or anxious.”

Kara nods. “I can’t imagine why I would,” she says. “Well, pressured, anyway. Anxious is more likely.” She gives a self-deprecating giggle.

“I promise you, I won’t leave your side if you don’t want me to,” Karen says seriously, brushing her hand over Kara’s.

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at the the Knowhere building, Foggy helps Kara out of the car and adjusts her arm sling for her. “Don’t worry about Gamora and them,” he says cheerfully. “They’re kind of weird, but cool.”

Kara falters before managing to say, “I just don’t know why they’re offering to help like this. I mean, I know Nebula from… but…”

“They’re good people,” says Matt. “But if you need to leave, just tell us.”

“I will,” Kara agrees.

As they approach the door, it opens and Drax comes out, grinning. “Hello, my friends! Welcome! Gamora is putting chairs out. But you can come in now!”

“Thank you,” Kara murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, for all of it. Thank you. I don’t even think we’ve met?”

“We have not! My name is Drax. You are Kara?” Drax holds out his hand and then says, “Oh, I should not touch you unless you ask me to.”

Kara’s eyes go wide. “I don’t… you’re…” She shakes her head. “It’s good of you to ask, Drax. If you want to shake hands I don’t mind, long as you don’t mind doing it backward.” She smiles and waves with her left hand, since the right isn’t exactly in a shakeable position.

“Of course! Although if we were to truly shake hands backwards, I suppose we would do it facing away from each other.” Drax takes her left hand in his and gently shakes it.

“Something like that,” Gamora declares, sidling up to the group. “Hey, Kara, I’m Gamora. Nebula’s told me about you.”

“With most people, she’d be lying about that,” adds Nebula, “but I actually did. Glad to see you’re okay.” She actually sounds like she means it.

‘Thanks,” Kara says, smiling shyly. “I, ah. I missed you guys.”

“We missed you too!” Carina exclaims, tentatively leaning in to hug Kara but only doing so when Kara makes the first real move. “You’re incredible.”

Kara goes red. “I’m not, really,” she mumbles.

“You are,” Carina insists. “Getting out of that like you did. It takes courage.”

Nebula nods. “It’s badass.”

“Well, I may be adding to my collection of battle scars, anyway,” Kara quips, motioning to her shoulder and then her near-faded black eye.

“Hey there,” calls Quill, sidling over, “you’re looking…” Gamora glares at him and he coughs and quickly finishes, “...well?”

Kara catches the note of hesitation, and no matter its meaning it makes her flinch, but he isn’t trying to make her uncomfortable, so she tries to smile it off. “Have we met?”

“Probably not? Peter Quill, I run the skate shop next door.” Quill extends his hand for a respectful shake, glancing over at Gamora, who nods approvingly.

“Peter Quill,” Kara repeats. “Hi. I’m Kara. Which you already know.”

“Yeah. I’m, uh, real sorry about what happened.” For once he looks sincere. “That’s majorly uncool.”

Nebula snorts. “Well, that’s _one_ way of phrasing it, you ass.”

“Whatever,” he says, frowning at her. “Point is, it’s bad and it shouldn’t have happened to you.”

“I… thanks,” Kara mumbles, fidgeting with her sling. “Or something. It’s really kind of overwhelming how supportive everyone is being, considering.”

“Some of us know from experience how much you need someone in your corner,” Gamora says softly. “And some of us are just trying to do the right thing.”

“We’re here!” calls MJ, the rest of the Helldivers trailing behind her. “I brought flowers.” She holds out a small bouquet of pink peonies. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but…”

“They’re beautiful,” Kara promises, accepting them with a smile. “It’s really good to see you guys.”

“Yeah,” says Rogue, smiling back. “I heard you like dark chocolate, so I asked Mama Irene to make these.” She’s holding a paper plate stacked with chocolate chip cookies.

“I brought you a knife.” Laura holds up a pocketknife with an elegant wooden handle. “Logan helped me pick it out. He says that if you want, he will take care of Grant Ward himself.”

“I’ll take something,” Karen offers, reaching for the cookies.

Kara nods her thanks at all of them, lips quirking up at Laura’s offer. “Tell Logan he’s not the first to suggest that,” she says. “And I appreciate it a lot. I’m not sure I should take him up on it, but it’s nice to know it’s an option.”

“Good.” Laura nods back. “He was very unhappy to hear about this.”

Kara flushes and squirms, which prompts Karen to jump in, adding, “Hearin’ that about anyone means a lot. It shouldn’t come as a surprise and the fact that it does doesn’t really reflect well on the world, but it’s still good.”

Gamora, sensing the girls need some time alone, grabs Quill’s arm and says “Help me with snacks.” He does, only whining a little. Drax wanders off to prop the door open, and Foggy herds Matt towards a chair.

“So,” says MJ, somewhat awkwardly, “Dr. MacTaggart was part of...things?”

“Yeah,” Kara agrees shyly. “She was really great. Came to pick me up and stayed with me all morning. It was really…” She trails off, shrugging. “I think I didn’t actually expect that kind of support, no matter how much I trusted her to begin with, and it was surprising. Does that make sense?”

Carina nods. “I know I _still_ get surprised about things like that sometimes,” she murmurs. “Like no matter how good someone else might be, you’ve got that fear you’re not worth it.” Tentatively, she reaches for Kara’s hand. “But you are, and you’ve gotta have a way to remind yourself.”

“We’ve got your back,” says Rogue.

“Thank you,” Kara says. “All of you. I’m sorry I skipped out on you guys.”

MJ shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. If you wanna come back, we’ll be glad to have you.”

“I really do,” Kara agrees. “I miss talking things through with you, listening to your stories and trying to figure out who you’re semi-covertly referring to.” To Karen she explains, “Using names in our stories is bad form, but sometimes it’s not hard to piece together.”

“Makes sense,” Karen nods. “You’ve all got the same frames of reference, pretty much.”

“I am not very good at it.” Laura shrugs. “But it’s like a game.”

“Hey!” calls Trip as he and his friends enter. “How are you doing, Kara?”

“Better than I was,” Kara says with a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”

Skye smiles. “Glad to hear it. You look a little better.”

“I’ve had pretty good care,” Kara says, nodding in Karen’s direction.

“Yeah, it seems like it,” Bobbi murmurs. “Asshole hasn’t tried to get a hold of you again?”

“Not since I switched my number,” Kara says.

“I would take the phone away from her and just scream in his ear till he hung up if he tried,” Karen promises, smiling.

Trip chuckles. “That’d be fun to watch.”

“Though not terribly kind to your vocal chords,” points out Fitz.

“Worse on his ears,” Karen smirks.

“For the sake of anyone else who happens to be in the room, I hope that doesn’t happen,” Bobbi declares wryly. “But it’s good you’ve got a plan.”

“Oh, I’ve got plans,” Karen says vaguely.

“Here,” Jemma exclaims, reaching into her bag and pulling out what appears to be a plate of brownies. “I heard you might… anyway, I’m not sure they’re any good because I’m fairly sure Skye would tell me anything I made was good, but I made these for you.”

“You really did spread the word I wanted all of the dark chocolate,” Kara muses, raising an eyebrow at Karen. To Jemma she says, “Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”

Mack ambles in, holding Bruce’s hand (Bruce looking around nervously). “Hope we’re not late,” he says with a smile.

“Not at all,” Karen replies.

“I’m kinda at a loss again, sorry,” Kara whispers, making an apologetic face at the men.

“I’m Mack, and this is Bruce.” Mack nods at her.

“Hi,” says Bruce shyly. “I’m, uh, I’m very sorry about what happened, Kara. I’m glad you’re recovering.”

Kara gives a tiny smile. “Thanks,” she says. “I… thank you guys for coming. It’s really…”

“Of course. It’s the least we can do,” Mack replies. “I’ve seen what Hydra is capable of, they’re bad news.”

“They are,” Kara agrees. “God, it would have been so much cooler if I managed to spy on some of their bullshit operations before I… well. That would at least be a better story.” She shrugs self-effacingly. “Not that it would matter, since apparently turning them into the cops wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

“Nobody expects you to have done anything like that,” Karen says.

“We’re all just glad you made it out all right,” Jemma adds.

“Your well-being is most important,” Bruce tells her gently.

“It’s still weird hearing people say that,” Kara mumbles.

Skye reaches over to pat her shoulder gently. “We mean it, okay? We wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I know,” Kara says. “I think that’s the weird part, that I don’t think you’re making it up or saying it for the wrong reasons. It’s really… everyone is so…”

“We’re trying to do what’s right,” Steve declares as he and his enter.

Giggling, Kara salutes him. “You’re doing a good job,” she says.

“We try,” says Natasha with a friendly smirk. “Good turnout.”

Skye grins. “People have been signing up for rotations too! So that’s awesome.”

Kara furrows her brow. “Karen mentioned something about… what exactly do you mean, though? So I’m clear. I know I’m, y’know, switching off tonight, but..”

“Well, we kinda thought you should have somebody looking out for you when you’re not at work,” explains Skye, “so I worked out a signup sheet for people to sit with you at lunch, and to drive you to and from work, and to have you stay with them at night, if you wanna. I mean, you don’t have to, but it might keep Ward and his shithead friends off your back for a while.”

“I wanna,” Kara says. “I mean, that sounds… that sounds really nice. I’m sure Matt will be glad to have his bed back.”

“I’m fine, really,” Matt calls from across the room.

Karen rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “We don’t mind havin’ you,” she says to Kara, “but like Skye said, it might be safer if you’re not in one place too long.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Kara agrees. “That means there’s less chance of someone else getting hurt, so I’m all for it.”

Jemma squeezes Skye’s hand. “It was a brilliant plan, darling,” she murmurs.

Skye hums affectionately and then says to Kara, “Good. I mean, if you wanna go back to your place you totally can, but I figured you wouldn’t…”

“Not for a while,” Kara says. “Honestly, I should probably just move. Somewhere he won’t know to come looking.”

Isabelle comes in, holding Victoria’s hand, and nods. “Good idea.”

Bobbi nods hello at them. “Glad you guys could make it,” she says.

“It wasn’t even a question,” Victoria declares, flashing the barest hint of a smile before steering Isabelle toward some chairs in the back.

“That’s Isabelle and Victoria,” Sharon explains to Kara. “They’re scary, but in a cool way. Scary if you need them to be scary. Scary when some asshat deserves to be scared. But they’re probably the most functional couple I know.”

Fitz makes a noise of protest. “Ex _cuse_ me, but I think…”

“What about us?” Skye yelps. “Jem and I are super functional!”

“You guys are super functional, but you’re babies,” Sharon says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s not the same thing. They’re functional despite having passed their potential quarter-life crises.”

“Plus, they’re gonna beat you guys to the altar by like a bunch of years,” Natasha points out. Bobbi, Bucky, and Sam all snicker.

Skye and Jemma glance at each other, and Jemma says, “Well, that’s not surprising, being older they’re more of the age to be marrying, because while it sounds nice in some ways, it’s not highly practical at _our_ age, not to say the materialistic bits are the only ones that matter but if I’m going to buy Skye a ring I’d like it to be one that didn’t come from Claire’s.”

Laughing, Skye grabs her hand and squeezes it. “I mean, if you bought me a Claire’s ring I’d wear it,” she teases.

“You _would,_ ” mutters Fitz, rolling his eyes. Then, glancing over at Bobbi, he smirks and adds quietly, “What if it was from Pizza Hut?”

“Oh, don’t _even_ ,” Bobbi mutters, shaking her head.

“Did I miss something?” Kara asks with a nervous laugh.

Smirking, Natasha says, “I’ll explain later,” then, “Isabelle also teaches self-defense classes.”

“That’s neat,” Kara exclaims.

“It is!” Jemma agrees. “I’ve been to some of her kickboxing, I’m still rubbish at it but it’s a lot of fun and worth knowing, I think.”

“What is?” Darcy asks, skipping up and draping an arm around Rogue.

“Isabelle’s kickboxing classes,” Jemma explains.

“Ooh, yeah, you should totally come,” Darcy says to Kara. “Hell, _I’ve_ imagined the punching bag was Ward a couple of times.”

Kara laughs nervously. “He’s really not well-liked,” she observes, although it’s obvious.

“No,” says Laura. “He is unpleasant and mean and he likes to degrade women. I see nothing about him that is likeable.”

“Yeah,” Kara frowns, “that seems obvious now.”

“Don’t fret too much about it,” calls Volstagg cheerfully as he ambles in. “Misjudging a person’s character and wanting to assume the best does not mean that you yourself are bad. I see I wasn’t the only one to bring cookies?”

“No,” Karen says. “I’m gonna go ask Gamora about getting a bag for all the gifts, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Kara agrees. “I’m fine.”

Karen nods and heads off in Gamora’s direction, which sets some of the rest of the group to dispersing (Carina, Nebula, Darcy, and Rogue stay put) and gives Kara a chance to properly greet the new arrivals. “Hi,” she exclaims, trying not to seem terrified by all the new people.

“Ready?” Darcy asks, pointing down the line. “Jane! Thor! Hogun! Hannah! Volstagg! Fandral! Linnea! Sif! Ian!”

“Hi,” Kara repeats, waving shyly.

“Greetings!” Thor booms cheerfully. “Wonderful to meet you.” He extends his hand.

“You, too,” Kara murmurs, taking that hand with her left awkwardly. “All of you. I’m sorry this had to be how we met. That’s my bad.”

“It isn’t,” says Sif, smiling kindly at her. “We just want you to be safe and happy.”

Tony slips into the building with Pepper and Rhodey behind him; for once he seems like he’s trying to remain inconspicuous. But Rhodey blows his cover. “Hey!” he calls. “Hope we’re not late.”

Kara shakes her head. “You’re not, I mean, I don’t know it’s a formal start time sort of thing.”

More people file in. Pietro and Wanda, who seem slightly ill at ease but nevertheless smile at Kara; Melinda, who ambles over to sit next to Sif; Audrey, who looks around nervously but goes to sit with Natasha and her people; Clint, who slips in and heads for the food immediately; Maya and Maria, who are talking with their heads close together. The last few strays - Akela, Mike, Hunter, Christine - wander in just as Karen’s bringing them all to attention.

“Hey, guys,” Karen says, and she’s glad that Gamora and Drax and Quill let them use the space but she wishes it was a bit more like a formal meeting space in this moment: without a podium to stand behind or anything like that, she’s not sure quite what to do. “So I haven’t talked to all of you too much, but you all know why we’re here.” She smiles at Kara. “We’ve got a situation on our hands, and you all said you wanna help, so we’re going to figure out how to do that tonight.”

“Thank you,” Kara whispers to Karen.

“Basically what we gotta do is keep that Nazi asshole out of Kara’s life, and by extension out of our own lives,” Karen continues. “Uh, and a big part of that, Skye, do you wanna take it?”

“Sure.” Skye nods and walks over next to them. “So basically, I made up three rosters. One to drive Kara to and from work, one to sit with her at lunch, and one to have her stay at your place for the night. You don’t have to sign up for more than one of those, and actually it’d probably be better if you didn’t. Driving will take probably the least amount of commitment: you just pick her up and drop her off. It’s basically to make sure she doesn’t get followed or some shit. Ward’s been banned from the mall, but we’re not sure if his Hydra buddies will try some shit, so lunch shift is basically guard duty. Also, getting to know her because she’s pretty cool.” Skye flashes Kara a grin before continuing, “Sleepover shifts are the most...I don’t wanna say ‘dangerous,’ but let’s just say he’s probably not above stalking.”

“I’m sure he isn’t,” Kara mutters, frowning.

“Basically, be ready to handle it,” Karen says, voice dark.

“Yes.” Matt smirks. “Handling it.”

Foggy widens his eyes and yelps, “But don’t escalate a situation unnecessarily!”

“Escalating this situation is never unnecessary,” Bobbi murmurs to Jemma, who bites back a grin (and a remark about how hot that was).

“I’ll take a sleepover shift,” Audrey calls, raising her hand like she’s in class.

“Thanks, uh…you,” Skye replies somewhat awkwardly. “Don’t think we’ve met, but I like your enthusiasm.”

“I’m Audrey,” says Audrey. “I’m the cellist.”

“The orchestra and the ballet,” Steve chimes in. “And teaching. She’s wonderful.”

Skye nods. “Okay, cool. Nice to meet you, Audrey. But you guys don’t have to like, volunteer out loud, I’ve got sign up sheets over there by the food.”

Kara glances down at her feet a moment before she murmurs, “Thank you guys, all of you. I don’t think I can say thank you enough times.”

“Aw, hey,” Karen says, gently nudging her friend, then when she’s not told to back off giving her a hug. “We’re not doin’ it for the thanks, we’re doin’ it because it needs to be done.”

“It’s the right, not-shit thing to do,” Sharon calls.

“Anything to keep you away from that creep,” Skye says, and she glances over to see Raina sitting down towards the back. Raina catches her eye and they give each other little nods of acknowledgement.

“Still,” Kara says. “It’s really… cool. That you’re…” She shrugs, a bit lopsided.

“Nobody has to be told to hate Ward,” calls Nebula. “He’s a shithead.”

Gamora, on the side of the room with her arms folded thoughtfully, glares in her sister’s direction, but she doesn’t dispute the fact either.

Irani strolls in, grandly as she always is. She gives Kara a little wave and calls, “I’m terribly sorry, traffic was hell. Lovely to see you’re doing well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kara says shyly. “I’m just glad you made it.”

“Incidentally, I may as well advise the room to be cautious around the local police,” Irani adds. “It’s been confirmed to me that multiple officers are members of Hydra.”

“As if we needed any more reasons to distrust the cops,” Gamora deadpans, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, big surprise,” Nebula agrees. “They were so _helpful_ to us, right, sis?”

“I go to therapy to avoid feeling like I do now,” says Bruce, who’s clenching his fist and looking very distressed. “Were they like this when you were on the force?” he asks, turning to Maria.

Maria’s mouth is a very thin line. “I haven’t been there for years, but they must have been subtler. Or the bastards multiplied, that’s possible too.” She sighs. “If I could’ve stayed to weed out the trash, I would’ve.”

“Hey, it’s okay, nobody’s blaming you,” Maya murmurs.

“Once Isabelle and I were driving around, I couldn’t tell you where,” Victoria says, tone laced with disdain, “and I kissed her cheek at a stoplight. Next thing we knew, we were getting pulled over by some burly, shaved-head cop.” She smirks. “It’s a good thing that Nazis don’t make a habit of watching _RENT_ , because he didn’t call me out for my saying ‘hey mister, she’s my sister.’”

Mack chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve definitely been pulled over for driving while black. I mean, they tried to tell me my tags were expired, but nah, I knew what it was. That time it wasn’t violent. Other times it was.”

“You never told me,” Bruce says, looking horrified.

Mack reaches over to squeeze his hand. “I didn’t wanna worry you. Figured it wouldn’t help.”

“Yeah, me too,” says Sam. “Not nearly as dramatic, but for sure they saw a black guy driving and got suspicious.”

Rhodey and Mike nod and start to speak at the same time. “Go ahead,” says Rhodey, chuckling.

“It’s just shitty to have to tell my kid that he can’t go to the store by himself ‘cause I’m afraid cops might target him,” sighs Mike. "I mean, I'd have to do that no matter where we were, but these assholes don't even try to hide it."

“They think I’m not looking them in the eye to be difficult,” says Akela.

“Half the time they seem like they don’t know _why_ they’re talking to me, they just feel like they ought to,” Raina murmurs.

Trip looks a bit shocked. “Y’know, I hadn’t put two and two together, but I have had a lot of weird cop encounters.”

“I have been walking with Swift and been accused of disturbing the peace!” chimes in Drax. “The officers did not appreciate my asking the other people nearby if they were disturbed by my presence. But those people said they were not.”

“Aw,” Carina murmurs, flashing him a smile. “Nobody could be disturbed by your presence.”

“Unless you wanted them to be,” snarks Nebula quietly.

Drax smiles. “Thank you! I do not see how either. But they seemed to think it was a problem.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “They sure do like to invent those.” He looks unusually murderous.

Bucky coughs. “We...we were walking one day, a while ago, me and Sam and Steve, and...we ran into Rumlow and another cop. I didn’t recognize him, he wasn’t there when I...anyway, I didn’t know him. And Rumlow said something like, ‘Hey look, it’s the traitor. How are you doing, you f…’ well, he called us a name. The other cop asked if I was the deserter and Rumlow said ‘Yeah, he ran off ‘cause he couldn’t take it,’ and Steve screamed ‘FUCK YOU’ and…”

“I jumped him,” Steve declares. “He had no right to do that.”

“Oh man,” sighs Sam. “I thought we were gonna get killed right there.”

“I mean, Steve was taking care of it, sort of.” Bucky shrugs. “And I hit the other guy with my arm. You didn’t even really have to get involved.”

“I did if I ever wanted to see your dumb asses again this side of a holding cell.”

“So _eventually_ , Sam broke it up and the cop said he was letting us off with a warning, because we were pussies,” finishes Bucky.

“Shit!” Sharon exclaims, fumbling for her boys’ hands. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about that?”

“It… wasn’t relevant?” Steve says, not sounding convinced.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha murmurs to Sharon, “they only told me because Steve came home with a black eye.”

“Well, this is all super encouraging,” Darcy announces. “Where’s a giant, bottomless swimming pool when you need it.”

“Technically, you can’t do that,” says MJ. “It’s kind of wrong? Even in this case.”

“Ruin my fun,” Darcy sighs.

Irani snorts. “This seems as good a time as any for us to discuss what to do if you encounter Nazi cops, actually. They cannot detain you without an explanation, and they cannot arrest you without reading you your rights. You have the right to an attorney, and I know some names if you need them.” She waves her hand dismissively. “They’re at least adequate.”

“So that buys time, at least,” Maya muses.

“Yes.” Nodding, Irani adds, “In addition, some of you are already aware of this, but Grant Ward has been officially banned from mall premises. If you see him, please alert a security officer and they will dispose of him.”

Christine snickers. “Literally disposing of him would be better.”

“I have Fury’s proxy,” adds Maria. “And he supports throwing Ward the fuck out through any means necessary.”

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. “And what about Coulson? That hasn’t exactly been his style.”

“We’ll...have a talk,” says Maria, a little darkly.

Bobbi snorts.

“Okay,” Kara murmurs, “but what… I mean, we’re, you’ve all got it sorted out so… but what if? I’m not going to underestimate Grant again. He’s…” She trails off, eyes searching mostly Karen’s face for answers.

“Aw, sweetie,” Karen murmurs, giving Kara’s hand a squeeze.

“If he shows up, someone will kick his ass,” says Skye. “That’s what the rotation is for. Enough people here are ass-kickers that there’s no chance of him pulling any shit.”

“I don’t expect you all to put yourselves on the line for me constantly,” Kara whispers. “And what if there’s a moment? Just one? That’s… that’s all it takes.”

Isabelle coughs. “Actually, if you’d like, I teach self-defense classes. Technically I don’t offer private lessons, but...I’m sure we could work something out, off the clock.”

In the span of fifteen seconds, Kara cycles through shock, anxiety, interest, and resignation before coming to settle on something best described as morbid pleasure. “I’d like that,” she whispers, vaguely unnerving.

After a few wrapup points, the meeting draws to a close, everyone feeling sufficiently Shosanna Dreyfus-esque. All three sheets are full of names, and Skye’s looking smug. The crowd has started to thin when Karen turns to Kara. “You still good to start rotating tonight?” she asks. “I mean, if you wanna stay put…”

Kara manages a smile. “I’d almost think you’ve just gotten used to having me around,” she teases. “I promise I’ll be fine. I mean, like Skye said, it’s probably safer if I’m not in just one place too long. And you’ve already done so much.”

“Not enough,” Karen says. “I couldn’t put a stop to this before it got out of hand.”

“That wasn’t your responsibility,” Kara says. “And honestly, neither is playing mother hen/guard dog/other miscellaneous animal metaphor. But that, you’re doing. And that’s more than anyone else has ever done for me before. All of this is.”

Karen nods. “Well, it’s important,” she declares. “And hey, after tonight you know your new bunkmate doesn’t have to be asked twice to punch a Hydra asshole’s lights out!” This, as Steve (having just bid his boyfriends and girlfriends good night) approaches, smiling.

“I truly hope it doesn’t come to that,” Steve says. “But I mean it when I say I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

Kara goes pink. “Thank you,” she says.

“But enough about that,” he announces, heading toward the door and motioning for her to follow. “I’m taking breakfast requests, and nothing is too fancy.”

 

* * *

 

Matt, Karen, and Foggy are curled up on a pile of cushions listening to Tim Curry read one of the _Series of Unfortunate Events_ books - Matt likes them because of the dark humor, Karen likes them because the Baudelaires refuse to give up, and Foggy just likes Tim Curry’s voice mostly - when someone starts pounding on the door. “KARA!” roars the someone. “ _I know you’re in there!”_

Karen sits straight up. “I oughta go take care of that,” she says.

Foggy’s shaking a little, though he’s obviously trying not to. “H-how?” he asks.

“Maybe I should…” Matt starts.

“No,” Karen insists. “I’ve got it.” Before either of the boys can protest further, she springs to her feet, rummages in one of her spare handbags, and goes to the door, deliberately turning her back to them as she opens up.

Ward’s been banging on the door yelling threats and obscenities this whole time - obviously drunk. “You can’t hide forever, bitch! I’ll get you out if I have to drag you!” he calls in, barely seeming to register Karen in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I got that,” Karen mutters, glaring as she levels a Ruger LC9 at him.

He blinks, then guffaws. “You think that’s gonna scare me off? That looks like a toy! C’mon, just hand her over and I won’t have to get…”

Without missing a beat she angles herself and fires it into a tree to his left. “You were saying?”

He’s too startled to finish for a second. From inside the house, Foggy yelps, “Was that a gun? Oh my god oh my god…”

“Do us all a favor and get the fuck off our property,” Karen hisses.

Ward, too taken aback to do anything else, stumbles away, slurring, “This isn’t over!” as he goes.

“Karen?” Matt calls. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Karen says, slamming the door and stashing her gun once more. “I’m fine. Good thing it was our tree and not the neighbors’.”

“Oh my god,” whimpers Foggy. “Karen, was that, is that _your_ gun? Why do you have a gun? I didn’t know you had a gun! Matt, did you know she had a gun?”

Matt frowns. “No, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“You know the stuff we don’t talk about? The stuff I really don’t want to get into?” she asks archly.

“Yeah,” says Foggy quietly.

“Well, that,” she replies. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not just waving it around without knowing what I’m doing.”

“Uh, I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“But he’s gone?” Matt asks.

“For now,” Karen sighs.

“Okay,” Matt says, “so let’s all just lay back down and go back to listening.” He puts a hand on Foggy’s arm. “Since he probably won’t come back tonight.”

Foggy’s still shaking a little, but he says, “Okay.”

“It’s gonna be all right,” Karen tells him, making a conscious effort to soften. “I promise that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get.”


	62. some days it's all worth it and some days this life is nothing but a curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara adjusts to her new schedule and makes some new friends, while mostly avoiding unpleasant encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a Nazi and some gendered slurs

Kara’s alarm goes off a good two hours before she has to be at work, mostly so she can allow herself the luxury of hitting snooze a few times. She can hear Steve already up and moving around, because she’s pretty sure one of the reasons he volunteered for this detail is that he doesn’t actually need that much sleep to function, but he doesn’t try to wake her up before she’s ready and that’s kind of a miracle.

When she emerges from the guest room after finishing her packing and getting dressed, he waves at her with a spatula in hand. “Morning!” he says. “I thought chocolate chip pancakes would be a nice treat, since it’s your last morning here for a while.”

“You’re gonna spoil me,” Kara laughs. “I hope all of yours know how lucky they are to have someone like you.”

Steve shrugs. “Sam does most of the cooking for us,” he says.

“That’s not what I mean,” she murmurs, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I mean, you’re good at taking care of people. It’s really nice.”

“More people should aim for it,” he replies. “We could all use a little more nice in our lives. There’s coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Thanks for everything. You know.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he says, “but it says something positive about you that you do.” He turns back to the pancakes for a minute and flips them onto a plate to bring over to the table. “You have all your stuff together?”

Kara nods. “I didn’t bring that much with me, but yeah. And hey, thanks for the sweatshirt. I’m probably never going to wear anything that logo-adorned in public, but it’s _so_ soft.”

He chuckles. “My thoughts exactly.” He pours himself some coffee before adding, “Is there anything else I can do to help right now?”

“Not really,” she says. “You’re already far above and beyond.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Then let’s eat. It’s not too long until you’re getting picked up.”

 

* * *

 

Without a doubt, Melinda is the most taciturn of Kara’s rotating chauffeurs. They’ve been in the car a good four minutes without her saying a word, and Kara’s not exactly sure how to react, if she should start a conversation or just stay quiet unless she’s wanted.

Nervousness and its tendency to produce babbling win out though, and Kara murmurs, “So, uh, Tony’s Halloween party.”

“Always interesting,” says Melinda with a smirk. “You going?”

“I think so,” Kara shrugs. “It’ll be safer than anywhere else, I figure, and I’m curious.”

Melinda nods. “Safe enough. Might be fun.”

“Did you go last year?” Kara asks.

“I did. Had a nice time. Phil asked me to slow dance.” Melinda smiles and rolls her eyes. “If anyone asks you to slow dance, you can say no. Incidentally.”

“O-okay,” Kara says. “Was it that silly?”

“Phil means well. He’s a lovely man, most of the time. No internal rhythm, though.”

“That would make it difficult,” Kara muses. “You know, I don’t think I’ve really even slow-danced since high school? For all I know, I could have no internal rhythm too.”

Melinda glances over at her. “Don’t worry about it too much. The right partner won’t care. Phil’s not mine.”

“How do you know that?” Kara asks softly.

Shrugging, Melinda says, “Don’t worry too much about it. You’ll know.”

“I do worry, though,” Kara whispers. “I don’t trust what I think I know anymore.”

“That’s understandable,” replies Melinda. “But now you know what to watch out for. You’re stronger and smarter.”

“I hope you’re right,” says Kara.

“I usually am.” Melinda smirks.

 

* * *

 

“You probably don’t have to walk me right to the door,” Kara says as they step inside the mall.

“Better safe than sorry,” Melinda says. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t?”

“I don’t mind the company,” Kara admits. “I feel a lot safer if you’re nearby. Or someone is. You know.” She shrugs.

Melinda nods. “Happy to do it.” She pauses to wait for Kara to take the lead.

Which Kara does, almost shyly like she’s not used to being given that courtesy. “So, uh, thanks,” she offers, because she’s not sure what else to say.

“Hey, Kara! Hey, Melinda!” Hannah calls, passing them in the corridor.

“Hey, Hannah,” Kara replies, smiling bashfully.

“Hello.” Melinda smiles.

“I’ll see you at Tony’s party, right?” Hannah asks.

“I think so, yeah,” Kara agrees.

“And me,” replies Melinda. “Should be interesting.”

“Cool!” And with that, Hannah waves goodbye and disappears down the hall. Kara can’t help but think how normal it is.

“She seems nice,” Kara observes.

Melinda chuckles. “She is. Very wholesome.”

“In a way, that’s admirable,” Kara giggles. They turn down the corridor to the admin office and she pauses, biting her lip. “Well, uh…”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Melinda says. “Hope you have a nice day.”

“You too,” Kara chirps, and she steps into the office. Rhomann is at the front desk where Kara usually sits, and she can’t help but frown.

He glances up at her, sees her expression, and says quickly, “Don’t worry, I won’t be here long, Karen’s just having car trouble.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Kara murmurs, and she goes to set her bag on her desk. “Good morning, Irani!”

“Lovely to see you looking happier, Kara,” says Irani with a smile.

“I feel happier,” Kara agrees. “Can I steal one of the boys to go on a coffee run with me?”

“Oh, take Rhomann. The phones have been quiet this morning.” Irani waves them off with a fond smile.

So Kara slips her wallet in her sweater pocket and she and Rhomann walk over to Starbucks. She knows everyone’s orders by now, but small benefit of her arm in a sling, he offers to carry the trays without her even having to ask. By the time they’re back, Karen is in, sitting at her desk idly drumming fingers on the keyboard.

“Morning, Karen!” Kara singsongs. “Got you a strawberry frappucino. How’s your car?”

“Eh, it’s fucked,” Karen shrugs cheerfully. “Foggy’s gonna take it over to the shop, he doesn’t have class till the afternoon. How was Steve’s?”

“Great, actually,” Kara replies, handing Karen her drink and taking her own before she nods Rhomann off. “He makes breakfast from scratch every morning and the other half of his duplex belongs to this really sweet single mom who knitted me a scarf.”

“Damn,” Karen says, letting out a low, appreciative whistle. “That’s pretty swanky.”

“Swanky,” Kara repeats, giggling. “Yeah, something like that. How was your night?”

“Actually hilarious,” Karen replies. “Foggy and Matt worked out what they’re doin’ for Halloween.”

“Really!”

“Really,” Karen agrees. “Foggy decided he was gonna be a bear, right, I guess it’ll be easy to find a bear costume, and then he got it in his head that Matt oughta be a sexy zookeeper.”

“Ah-huh,” Kara says, chuckling and reaching for her coffee. “Why a sexy one specifically?”

Karen shrugs. “Who knows,” she says. “I mean, I think it might just be ‘cause it’s funny. I’m probably gonna be Alice in Wonderland, and that’ll probably wind up bein’ sexy too.”

“Oh,” Kara says, biting her lip. “You’ll look really good, Karen.” She means it, too, but that drags up this weird undercurrent of anxiety for her. Karen’s pretty, she can get away with sexy costumes and people will like it. She, on the other hand…

“Do you know what you’re gonna be yet?” Karen asks.

“Not yet.”

 

* * *

 

“...no, seriously, he swung from the chandelier! Just like in that song!” Rhodey’s grinning, two seconds from laughing at his own story. “I can’t even remember what he’d had but I know he made me swear never to let him drink it again.”

“That sounds outrageous,” Kara muses.

“Well, that’s Tony for you,” Pepper sighs. “He’s sort of the king of outrageous.”

Rhodey shakes his head, still grinning. “Yeah, we’ve had some wild times. Then there was the time he was showing off a paintball gun and accidentally fired it - twenty seven times. ‘Accidentally.’” He does the air quotes with fingers.

“I hope he didn’t hurt anybody!” Kara exclaims.

“Oh, no, just gave the wall an interesting new paint job. His dad didn’t even notice for like three weeks.”

“Howard Stark is a piece of work,” Pepper sighs. “It’s probably genetic.”

“In a bad way?” Kara asks.

Rhodey shrugs enigmatically. “He’s my best friend, but he can be...a lot to handle. His dad’s even worse, probably. I mean, I’m biased,” he says with a grin. “Known him since we were in college. Crazy times.”

“Oh, my,” Kara murmurs.

“He’s mostly harmless, most of the time,” Pepper shrugs. “He’s less of an asshole than he thinks he is. Still kind of an asshole, but still.”

Chuckling, Rhodey nods. “I mean, I told him to not hit on you, but who knows with him.”

Kara flushes and turns her attention to her smoothie. “Is there anything else I should be wary of?” she asks.

“He can get crazy when he drinks,” says Rhodey. “Nothing too bad, just, y’know. Make sure you’re not near any chandeliers.”

“There’s more than one?” Kara squeaks.

“In that house? Yeah.” Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Starks love chandeliers.”

“Not enough that they haven’t played a large and dangerous role in hijinks,” Pepper says, nudging Rhodey in the shoulder. “You should probably take that one, too.”

“Yeah.” He looks at Kara. “If drunk Tony tells you to do something, don’t do it. If sober Tony tells you to do something...probably don’t do it.”

“I’ll remember that,” Kara promises, nodding. “How… Halloweeny is the party?”

“Lots of costumes, mild overuse of the words ‘spoopy’ and ‘creppy,’” Pepper explains. “Virtually no other theming. It’s not a creepy haunted house or anything.”

Rhodey snorts. “Tony just likes excuses to throw parties. He’s not even very good at the costume part - I convinced him to do Daft Punk with me last year but he wouldn’t put the helmet on for more than five minutes.”

“It was actually hilarious,” Pepper admits. “Mostly just watching Tony spend more energy trying to hide from Rhodey than it would have taken just to wear the damn thing.”

“Hilarious _for you_ ,” Rhodey sighs. “A pain in the ass for me. But I’m used to it."

 

* * *

 

 

Thor gently taps on the door with his knuckles before opening it and peering inside. “Kara?”

“Hi,” Kara says, spinning her chair away from her desk and smiling. “I’ve just got to clock out.”

“Take your time,” says Thor with a smile. “When you’re ready, I have brought you a gift.” He holds out a Disney Store bag.

Kara nods, enters her time, and grabs her purse from the shelf. “You really didn’t have to,” she murmurs sheepishly, but she takes the bag and reaches in, first pulling out a pack of brightly-colored jellybeans and then a small plush Tramp toy, which prompts her to coo, “Aw, thank you!”

“I did not know if you liked either of them, but they seemed appropriate,” Thor says. “My coworker Kurt suggested the candy, but I take full responsibility if you’d prefer another kind.”

“No, it’s great!’ she exclaims. “It’s all great. Thank you, seriously.” She’s getting a little misty-eyed, but that’s just how it is lately.

“You are quite welcome. Do you have any other places you’d like to go before I take you to Audrey’s?”

Kara shakes her head. “I think I’m okay,” she says. “Did you have errands to run?”

“No, my only duty is to ensure you arrive safely,” he replies cheerfully.

“Gosh,” she mumbles. “I’m still not used to that. You’re very chivalrous.”

He chuckles. “Am I? I merely try to treat others well. But I thank you for your kind words.”

“Trust me, it’s chivalrous,” she says. “And it’s a hell of a lot more than most people do.”

“I am glad to do it,” he replies. “Shall we depart?”

“Let’s,” she nods.

As they walk out, Thor begins telling her a story from his day. “Her mother seemed ashamed that the girl was dancing and singing so loudly, but I found it charming and joined in. It seemed to bring her much joy. Have you ever seen any of those films? I quite enjoy them.”

“I saw the first one once,” Kara chuckles. “I’m not great at seeing movies, let alone _High School Musical_.”

“You might watch try watching them if you find yourself feeling too unhappy,” says Thor. “I find they lift one’s spirits nicely. But then, Loki sometimes tells me that I am ‘drinking the Kool-Aid.’”

“From what I’ve heard about him, he thinks that about most people,” she says sheepishly.

“Yes.” Thor frowns for a moment and then shrugs. “He is a person with many strong opinions, but he is my brother. I would never abandon him.”

“That’s another thing that’s very good of you,” Kara declares.

“Thank you.” Since they’re at his car, Thor opens the door for her.

She slides in gratefully, glad to be spared the hassle of juggling her things with only one currently functioning arm. “So everyone’s talking about this party,” she offers, because it’s easy conversation.

“Stark’s?” asks Thor as he slides into the driver’s seat. “It will be an amusing affair.”

“Yeah, that one,” she agrees. “It’s big, yeah?”

“He invites as many people as he meets,” says Thor with a chuckle. “Which is more than the average person.”

“Are there crashers?” she asks.

Thor frowns. “I will have a word with Tony about Ward. He will not be allowed inside, even if I must stand at the door and keep watch for him myself. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. “It’s just… if there are so many people and it’s such a big house… something could go wrong like that.”

“Your concern is understandable,” he says gently, “but we will not allow any harm to come to you. You will be among friends, Kara.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you need me to carry anything in?” Audrey asks as soon as she opens the door.

“If you wouldn’t mind?” Kara says, nodding to her (really Karen’s) suitcase. “I’m not sure where you want me to put my stuff, so, ah.”

“Oh, it’s fine!” Audrey exclaims. “Let’s get everything inside and then I’ll give you the tour.” She smiles at Thor, then. “Do you want to stay for dinner? It’s just pasta, but there’s plenty of it.”

He grins and shakes his head. “It is kind of you to offer, but Jane and I have a date tonight. Kara, I hope you have a lovely evening, as do you, Audrey.”

“Thank you,” Audrey says. “Have a good time.”

“I’ll see you later,” Kara adds, waving.

Audrey motions Kara inside, nodding reassuringly. “So this is it,” she says. “It’s not much, kitchen in the back, living room where we’re standing, bedrooms and bathrooms off to the left, but it suits me. I probably wouldn’t have been able to find an apartment that would be cool with this guy.” That last is said as her dog lumbers up and sniffs Kara’s suitcase.

“He’s very sweet,” Kara says. “What’s his name?”

“Ajax,” Audrey replies. “And he’ll get up on the bed and cuddle all night if you don’t tell him no, so don’t be too alarmed. I can try to keep him in with me.”

“No, I… if he wants to cuddle, that would be okay,” Kara decides. “I mean, he’ll probably want to stay with you, but.”

“He’s friendly,” Audrey shrugs. “And he’s good at guessing when the people around him need their mood lifted.”

Kara can sense there’s something to that, but she doesn’t want to press, so she asks, “Which door is the guest room?”

Dragging the suitcase along, Audrey heads for the appropriate room. “We’re sharing a bathroom, but I don’t take too long, so don’t worry about that,” she explains. “And if you need anything, I can point you in the right direction of either a closet or Walgreens. I’m not really used to having guests, so I may have forgotten to stock up on something.”

“It’s really fine,” Kara assures. “I have all the toiletries I need, probably. And I can improvise.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Audrey grins. “Come on, the water should be ready.”

Kara offers to help with dinner, but without both arms there’s not too much she can do, so she sits at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice. “So you’re in the orchestra,” she ventures.

“And I play for the ballet,” Audrey confirms. “I give private lessons. If it involves a cello and doesn’t involve me being present in a junior high, I probably do it.”

“That’s really cool,” Kara enthuses. “That you have something you’re that passionate about that you can make a life out of it.” She shrugs. “I’ve never really had just one thing like that.”

“It’s rewarding at its best and frustrating at its worst,” Audrey sighs. “But I wouldn’t want to do anything else with myself.”

“I’m glad you get to do it, then,” Kara says. She falters a moment before adding, “But if you don’t even work at the mall, or with… why did you volunteer to help out?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but we have the time,” Audrey says. “So I used to live in Portland, which might be easiest to tell from my collection of hipster knitwear. I had friends, I went out sometimes, but I wasn’t seeing anyone. Hadn’t for a while. One of the women in the orchestra I played in there liked to throw these singles nights, and sometimes I humored her.”

“Oh dear,” Kara murmurs, because she can tell this story isn’t going to end happily.

“One of those parties, I spent most of the night talking to this guy,” Audrey continues. “I gave him my number, because he seemed harmless enough, but I didn’t really think anything was going to come of it. Then I started getting texts from him. Faster than I could reply, faster than I wanted to reply. After about three days of that, they started getting… lewd.”

Kara grimaces, but she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Propositioning me, trying to start honest-to-god sexting me. After about a week of _that_ , ignoring it and hoping it would go away, I finally told him to knock it off.” Audrey brings the pasta to the table and starts dishing it out. “Then he started showing up at the concert hall, at the rec center where I gave lessons. Places I hadn’t even told him I would be at, you know? But telling him to leave me alone didn’t work.”

“That asshole,” Kara whispers.

“He was following me to and from - wherever,” Audrey explains. “I’d try to dodge him, try to lead him on confusing routes, lose him in crowds, anything to keep him from finding out - or knowing for sure - where I lived. But even that didn’t work. And when I called the cops on him, they told me I was just exaggerating. Like I was just trying to think of a way to get him off my back. Which, of course, I was, but at that point it wasn’t just because I wasn’t interested. I genuinely felt unsafe, just knowing that wherever I was he could find me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kara says, frowning.

“We went to trial with it, I got a little bit of money and what was supposed to be a foolproof restraining order,” Audrey says. “Needless to say, the latter didn’t actually work. Nothing worked. So I did some job-hunting out of state and came here. Disappeared, almost. My mom knows where I am, a few friends that he wouldn’t be able to coerce into talking. But it’s better that it’s mostly a secret. Being here is better. Safer.”

“I am so, _so_ sorry,” Kara echoes. “Jesus. That’s horrible.”

“I made it through okay,” Audrey replies, smiling bravely. “That’s one of the reasons I got Ajax, honestly. Guard dog-slash-friend-slash distraction-slash-therapy animal. That last one is unofficial, but he’s very good at it.”

Kara nods, trying for a smile of her own. “I’m glad,” she says. “God. Why are some men so awful?”

“Cautionary tales, I think,” Audrey declares. “I’m fine being one of those myself, if it helps people.”

“It’s helping me,” Kara murmurs. “I mean… I feel less horrible knowing this kind of thing didn’t just happen to me. I’m sorry it happened to you, but…”

“Yeah,” Audrey says. “I get that. It can be really easy to feel like it only happened to you because of something that’s wrong with _you_ , and that’s just not true.”

“It happened because we had the misfortune of encountering assholes,” Kara smirks.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning!” says Drax when Audrey opens the door. “I am here!”

“Be out in a second!” Kara shouts from the kitchen.

“Do you want to come in and wait?” Audrey asks.

“If you would permit it!” Drax replies cheerfully. “I shall say hello to Ajax.”

“He’ll be very excited to see you,” Audrey chuckles, waving Drax in. “He’s a little giddy having this extra attention.”

Drax grins and ambles inside, sitting down on the couch and reaching to scratch Ajax’s head when he comes up to sniff at him. “I can imagine. Swift loves it when people visit me.”

“Ajax snuggled on Kara’s bed last night,” Audrey says. “He’s a very good guard dog.”

“He seems it,” replies Drax. “I’m glad you have him. I’m sure he would not let Ward anywhere near this house.”

“Oh, no,” Audrey agrees. “He’s not a biter, but I’m almost positive he’d bite that man.”

Kara appears from the kitchen, grinning, waving, carrying two bottles of orange juice. “Do you want one?” she asks Drax.

“Thank you,” says Drax, taking one and chugging half of it in one gulp. “This is very refreshing.”

“I’m ready to head out if you are,” Kara says.

“All right! Let us go!” Drax stands up, giving Ajax one last scratch.

He leads Kara outside and helps her into his jacked-up pickup. “Did you sleep well?”

She nods. “Pretty well. I’ve still got some of the sleep medication the doctor gave me, which really helps.”

“That is very helpful!” he agrees. “And Ajax, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” she says. “He’s sweet. Gave me enough space, but kept the bed warm for me.”

“That is good! Dogs are wonderful. Do you have a dog? Mine is small and her name is Swift.”

“Cute,” Kara smiles. “I don’t right now. I haven’t, ever. I… I kind of think I want one, though. When all this blows over and I’m settled again.”

Drax nods. “Good idea! Everyone should have a dog, I think. Unless they do not want one.”

“That’s a nice idea,” she agrees. “A dog for everyone.”

“Thank you! I think it is nice.” He smiles. “Do you have any tattoos?”

Kara giggles at the abrupt subject change, but she answers, “Not yet.”

“If you would like to get one, I will give you a discount!” he replies. “And I’m sure Gamora would agree.”

“That’s sweet,” she says. “I don’t know what I’d want, or where, but I’ll remember that.”

 

* * *

 

“Lee Circle Shopping Center, how can I direct your call,” Karen chirps into the phone.

“Hi. Can I speak to Kara?”

“You have the wrong number,” she croons, and she hangs up with a slam.

“That wasn’t just a wrong number, was it,” Kara murmurs.

“Hey,” Karen says. “I promise every time he calls, that’s what I’ll do. Or worse.”

They work in silence for maybe twenty minutes before the phone shrills again, and Kara murmurs, “Shit.”

Karen holds up a finger, then picks the receiver up. “Lee Circle Shopping Center, how can I direct your call?”

“Hello, can I speak to Kara?” This voice is rougher, obviously male, but not Ward.

Karen frowns. “I’m sorry, she’s not available,” she says, wary.

“Bitch, I know she’s there,” the Nazi (because of _course_ he’s a Nazi) growls. “Put her on or you’ll be fucking sorry.”

“Your call is being monitored for quality assurance, you motherfucker,” Karen says as calmly as she can manage, and she hangs up.

“Was that Grant?” Kara asks softly.

“He’s getting friends to call now,” Karen mutters. “Because of course he is. I’m going to initiate a protocol.” She opens a new browser window and logs into the secret internet. “What do you want your code word to be?”

“Code word?”

“Yeah,” Karen nods. “If someone who doesn’t suck wants to talk to you specifically, they’re going to have to say a code word. So, what do you want it to be?”

“Buffalo,” Kara decides.

“Any reason for that?” Karen asks, laughing.

“It’s incredibly random and nothing that Grant would ever think to say,” Kara shrugs. “God. At least the asshole who fucked my face up left me alone afterward.”

Karen spins her chair and goes to give Kara a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she says. “But I happen to think your face is great, and nobody is going to get to fuck you up ever again.”

 

* * *

 

“So what are you studying?” Kara asks, nibbling a French fry.

“Psychology,” Wanda replies. “I find it very helpful in understanding other people. I am not always very good at that, so having an explanation for people’s behavior is useful. And it’s interesting - people are so interesting. The human brain is truly a marvel.”

“That’s so cool,” Kara murmurs. “I mean, wow, understatement of the century, but it is. So complicated and… god, you must be so smart.”

Wanda chuckles. “I am not sure, but I do my best. I suspect my ability to remember facts is often mistaken for intelligence. When I was younger, I wanted to know everything about cats. Now it is the human brain.”

“No, that’s great,” Kara says, utterly sincere. “I mean, not everyone can remember things that well, and not everyone wants to go out and try to learn for fun.” She shrugs self-deprecatingly. “I’ve never been good at retaining things like that.”

“That’s all right,” says Wanda with a smile. “We all have talents of our own. What do you like to do?”

“Well, not that I’ve done much about it lately, but I’m kind of an art history nerd,” Kara admits. “My dad is Greek and I grew up with the mythology, which you really only learn about in art history anymore, so it was kind of a natural transition.”

“Interesting!” Wanda says. “And what is your favorite myth?”

“Favorite isn’t quite the right word for it, but Persephone fascinates me,” Kara says. “Always has.”

Nodding, Wanda replies, “It is a very interesting story. Particularly if you think about it as being deliberate on her part.”

“It seems like everyone who tells it has a different take,” Kara says. “It’s fascinating no matter what, but I love seeing the interpretations.”

“Yes. The explanations humans will create to justify natural phenomena, or their own behaviors, is amazing.”

Kara opens her mouth to reply, but before she can, there’s a shout from someone nearby. Both women glance up to see Brock Rumlow coming their way. “Gosh it’s cute watching you pretend to have friends,” he snarks, “but I think it’s about time to wrap this up. Your boyfriend wants you, girl, better come with me.”

“No,” Kara whispers, staring intently at her food.

“Hey, c’mon. I’m supposed to bring you back, so let’s do this the easy way, where you don’t put up a fight.”

“I said no,” Kara echoes, fist clenching.

“You’re going to leave now,” says Wanda, voice steady.

Rumlow scoffs. “Or what, little girl, you gonna nag me?”

“You _will_ leave us alone.”

“Maybe we should just ignore him,” Kara murmurs, fussing with her hair.

“That will not work,” says Wanda, glaring at Rumlow. “I must make him leave.” She addresses him when she says, “Does frightening those smaller and weaker than you please you because of your inferiority complex, or because you are such an unpleasant person this is the only real human interaction you have?”

Rumlow laughs, but it’s a bit shaky. “You don’t have any idea what you’re about, bitch.”

“I do. You pretend you’re stronger than you are because you’re afraid of what will happen to you if you show weakness. You intimidate and bully because you don’t know any other way to be. It’s pitiable, really. But I do not pity you at all.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this.” Rumlow lunges for Kara-

-at which point Wanda jumps to sink her teeth into his arm and shove him away.

“ _Fuck!”_ he yelps, surprised, but Wanda doesn’t let go for a long moment and in the meantime pummels him with her fists as best she can.

Fury and Maria, strolling down the walkway, both stare for a moment before hustling over. “Break it up!” Maria growls, pulling Rumlow away from Wanda.

“The fuck is going on here?” Fury asks.

Wanda, breathing heavily, says, “He was trying to take Kara away and I couldn’t let it happen.”

Coulson, who’s recently returned from two weeks in Tahiti, comes over as well. “What’s all this?”

“Later, Phil,” grunts Maria. “That what happened?” she asks Kara, who’s staring with wide eyes.

Kara is too startled to do anything more than nod. Rhodey, who’s sitting a few tables away, calls “Sure was!”

“Alright. Now, let’s make this clear, Hydra boy,” hisses Maria. “You’re not welcome here and neither are any of your friends. If we catch you anywhere near this girl, we will not hesitate to use force. Got it?”

Rumlow spits in her face. Unfortunately for him, that convinces Fury to pull out his taser and give Rumlow a hit.

“Good riddance,” Fury mutters as Rumlow slumps to the ground.

“Are you all right?” Wanda asks Kara.

“Yeah,” Kara says faintly, but she doesn’t look all right.

Wanda frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to make him stop.”

“It’s not you,” Kara promises. “You were wonderful. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Wanda smiles. “I...I have to get back to work soon, would you like me to find someone else to stay with you?”

Biting her lip, Kara nods. “If… if that would be all right? I don’t want to…”

“You are not,” reassures Wanda. “I will talk to your boss as well, if you would prefer to take the rest of the afternoon for recovery.”

“I feel so stupid,” Kara mumbles.

“You are not stupid. You are recovering from a trauma. It is a process, and Irani will understand,” says Wanda gently.

Then Rhodey coughs, reminding them both of his presence, and says, “Look, if you’d like, I could take you somewhere. So, y’know, you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I… yeah,” Kara says softly. “That sounds actually kind of perfect.”

“Thank you,” says Wanda, smiling. “You’re very kind. Kara, I hope your day improves.” She heads for the security office.

“Er,” says Rhodey, a bit awkwardly, “you wanna see a movie or something? I know that new Pixar movie is still at the theater at the edge of town.”

Seeming a bit surprised, Kara nods. “That would be nice,” she says. “I wouldn’t have taken you for an animation guy.”

He chuckles. “I don’t want it getting out there too much, but yeah. It’s a pretty neat medium. I like the artistry of animation.”

“How neat,” she exclaims. “Should we check for showtimes?”

 

* * *

 

“So, ah,” Kara murmurs, smiling shyly at Rhodey. “Do you want to stay for dinner? To make up for me bawling all over you.”

He chuckles. “Please, it’s not like I was straight-faced the whole time. But yeah, I’d like that. Do you think Audrey’ll care?”

“I’m sure she won’t,” Kara assures. “Especially considering you really had my back this afternoon.” She shrugs. “Which… you know. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I hope it helped?”

“It really did,” she says, and she knocks on the door.

Audrey opens up with a smile. “The good news is, my sectional got canceled tonight,” she announces. “Bad news, I was all geared up to get takeout, so I don’t have dinner planned. Are you staying, Rhodey?”

“If that’s okay?” he asks.

“Of course,” Audrey exclaims. “Do you mind if we just get pizza?”

“The day I say no to pizza is a day I never want to see.”

Audrey gets the other two settled in before she calls in the order, and Kara tentatively reaches for the television remote. “Do you have any preferences?”

Rhodey shrugs. “Not really.”

By the time the pizza arrives, they’re accidentally settled on _Frozen_. “It’s pleasant enough?” Kara suggests.

Rolling his eyes, Rhodey says, “It’s my least favorite of the computer-animated movies from the 2010s. Nice animation, but lazy plotting, mediocre soundtrack. Overhyped. They put the characters in _Once Upon a Time,_ for fuck’s sake.”

Audrey giggles. “I didn’t know that.”

“I mean, I stopped watching back in season 2, when they fucked up Mulan and Aurora, but it’s inescapable,” he sighs. “If you’re gonna retell a fairy tale and make it nontraditional, don’t half-ass it. _Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters_ that shit.”

“That _is_ the opposite of half-assing,” Kara agrees, smirking.


	63. you can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down, you would've thought by now I'd have learned something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Tony's Halloween party; there is some drama and some clearing of the air.

“Where’s Rhodey?” Tony says, just managing to come short of whining.

“Rhodey is doing other things,” Pepper says archly. “Things that are more important than catering to your every whim.”

“I did important things,” he replies, sulking just a bit.

“You’ve mentioned that four times already,” she points out, going to straighten a veritable display of plastic cups. “It’s starting to sound less like you did them because it’s right and more because you wanted to be acknowledged.”

Tony shrugs. “I mean, can’t it be both?”

“Can and should are two different things,” she retorts.

“Fair point,” he says lightly. “Streamers off the chandelier, or no?”

“It’s a chandelier, Tony, it’s gaudy enough.”

“You are no fun,” he replies, ambling off to find somewhere else to hang them.

“You know that anything you hang from the ceiling has a fifty percent chance of being disturbed by Clint’s propensity for high places,” Pepper calls.

“Whatever. I’m not planning on saving them.”

She sighs and brushes imaginary dust off her flapper dress. “And of course you won’t think of those who clean up your messes.”

He shrugs again. “I mean, it’s not gonna take that long to clean. Dad made me put the pool cover on this year.”

Pepper is tempted to ask if that’s Howard’s attempt at parenting, but she doesn’t want to poke that particular bear. Instead she says, “I hope that won’t be needed, but that’s probably a good idea.”

“He’s not gonna get that far, but y’know. Just in case.”

The doorbell rings and Pepper starts moving in that direction, but Tony spins around and gallops toward the door, racing her. He flashes her a grin as he grabs the doorknob and twists it.

“You should have dressed as a puppy,” Maya deadpans, waving.

“Didn’t think of it,” says Tony smoothly, raising an eyebrow. “And you? I mean, Hill, I see you’re rocking the Amazonian princess, but I’m only getting sexy schoolgirl from this.”

“Dear diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count,” Maya recites.

Maria, who’s standing just behind Maya, puts her hand on Maya’s shoulder. “Not that I’m shocked that you haven’t seen that movie, Stark, but you could be a little less with the Don Draper.”

“But I’m dressed for the occasion,” he says, indicating his smoking jacket.

“Don Draper never wore velvet,” Pepper retorts.

“Details,” scoffs Tony. “C’mon in, ladies, we’re just getting started.”

Maria hasn’t moved her hand, and Pepper can’t help but make note of this. She rolls her eyes at Tony, glances just once at Maria’s hand, and says, “You’re the first ones here, he means.”

Maria snorts. “That’s fine. We can entertain ourselves.”

“Especially in this, the grown-up funhouse,” Maya declares.

“I like the way you think,” says Tony.

Just then there’s another enthusiastic knock at the door. Pepper reaches to open up to what seems to be Thor’s entire extended friendgroup. “Hi, everyone,” she says, chuckling.

“Hello!” booms Thor. “We have arrived!”

“You certainly have,” Pepper replies.

“Which poor unfortunate soul is the DD?” Tony asks. “Open bar, not to taunt you.”

“I don’t mind being,” Hannah says, beaming under her tinsel halo. “I know I’m a cliche.”

“Nonsense!” says Volstagg cheerfully. “We all have fun in our own ways.”

Tony narrows his eyes at Fandral. “Just what are _you_ supposed to be?”

Fandral, wearing jeans and a black shirt collar and tie and nothing else, smirks. “Why, Magic Mike, of course!”

“Uh huh.” Tony adjusts his smoking jacket and glances at Linnea. “You look too classy for this.”

Linnea, who is currently dressed as an ironically sexy medieval princess, snorts. “Original line there, Hefner.”

He shrugs. “Worth asking.” Then he gestures toward the other side of the room, and the entryway connecting to the rest of the house. “Like I said, open bar, karaoke’s set up, game room, pool’s off limits, try not to break shit.”

“Dude, are you a fool? _Karaoke_?” Darcy asks, dumbfounded. “This coming from a karaoke queen: at a party this big it will doubtlessly become a shitshow.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he replies cheerfully.

“Let us adjourn to make drinks!” says Thor. “I think they will make us all more agreeable.”

“Always trying to look on the bright side,” Jane says, tightening the ribbons on the ends of her braided pigtails.

When they arrive, Pepper mixes herself a bourbon Manhattan, daring Tony to say anything about the fact that she’s using one of the most expensive bottles of liquor on the shelf. She’s earned it, she figures. “Hogun, you’ll have to tell me what you’re dressed as,” she says apologetically. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Spyro,” he says, smirking. “He is a purple dragon from a series of Activision games of the same name.”

“Oh,” Pepper exclaims, taking a sip of her drink before adding, “It’s a very well-made costume, I’m just ignorant to video games as a general rule.”

“It’s all right,” he says. “He is not as iconic as some other characters.”

Meanwhile, Fandral catches Thor’s eye and downs a shot, and Thor, taking it as the challenge it is, pours himself one and drinks it. Fandral takes another shot, and that’s when Tony yelps “Drinking contest!” and starts chugging shots like he might die if he doesn’t drink.

“Tony, no!” Pepper yelps, even though she understands the impulse more than she usually would.

“Not stopping!” he replies, downing another.

“Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Pepper sighs. “I remember and I wasn’t even there.”

“You mean the part where he made an enormous ass out of himself at the home of Dr. Weaver, someone even he respects?” Maya chimes in, chuckling. “You’d think that would help him learn, but what you’re forgetting is that Tony has the proverbial goldfish brain.”

Maria snickers and squeezes Maya’s arm affectionately.

“You would never do anything like this, would you?” Maya asks quietly.

“I’d have to be much drunker than I let myself be in public,” replies Maria.

 

* * *

 

Rhodey doesn’t bother to knock, just letting himself and Kara in.

“Holy crap,” Kara murmurs, staring around the entryway with wide eyes. “This place is incredible.”

“Isn’t it?” Rhodey chuckles. “I mean, you get used to it after a while, kinda. C’mon, if I know Tony the bar’ll be back this way.” He puts his hand on her arm and gently steers her out of the entryway.

Idly, Kara fidgets with her long red wig. “And where the bar is the party is?”

“Probably,” says Rhodey lightly. “But we don’t have to stay there long if you don’t wanna. There’ll be other things to do.”

“I’m not sure,” she admits. “Can we just play it by ear?”

“Course,” he says, giving her hand a friendly squeeze.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I mean, for all of this. The costume, too. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs. “I mean, thanks for wanting to do it with me. Can’t have Jack without Sally.”

“I guess you _could_ , but…” She trails off, shrugging. “She’s the kind of badass I could maybe eventually be.”

“Aw, I think you’re pretty badass right now. Look at you, you’re all dressed up and at a party and you’re not looking over your shoulder. You’re not letting fear stop you.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to say the same without some pretty strong people in my corner,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “It doesn’t feel very badass. Leaving the house isn’t something you get brownie points for.”

“It could be,” he counters. “When you’ve been through so much shit, leaving the house is practically running a marathon.”

“You’re sweet,” she says.

By now, they’re in the main room, and Pepper, as de facto hostess, floats over to greet them. “I’m glad you guys could make it!” she says. “Tony’s been pitching a fit.”

“Of course he is,” says Rhodey with a grin. “I better go give him his bottle. You gonna be okay for a few minutes?” he asks Kara.

“Actually, I, uh, I wanted to talk to Pepper and Maya alone for a minute,” she says, staring at her feet instead of Pepper’s face.

He frowns, concerned. “Okay. Well, I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Thanks,” she says sheepishly.

“Let me get Maya over,” Pepper says.

“My ears are burning,” Maya, who’s been near enough to hear her own name being said, chirps. “What’s going on?”

Kara takes a deep breath. “I’ve been meaning to find you guys and, well, I want to apologize,” she says in a rush. “For being so stupid and horrible when you tried to… to tip me off to what Grant was. I should have listened, saved myself the heartache and everyone else the time worrying, but I was just really far gone. And I treated you terribly when you were just trying to be kind to me. And I’m sorry.”

Maya and Pepper glance at each other, and Maya says, “It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it,” Kara mumbles.

“Well, it’s not, okay?” Maya presses. “You were being taken advantage of in at least twenty different ways, which is no fault of your own either, just a fact. And it meant that you weren’t thinking entirely rationally. And that’s his fault, not yours. He got to you when you were vulnerable and he messed with your head.”

“I still want to try to make it right,” Kara whispers. “Whatever I fucked up.”

“That’s good of you, but in this case, you didn’t fuck anything up,” Maya says.

“And besides, the person we’ve all been getting to know recently is a delight,” Pepper adds. “And she, you, would never hurt someone on purpose.”

“Unless they really deserved it,” Kara mumbles, eyes going dark for a moment.

Pepper and Maya nod, and Pepper offers, “Want something to drink? I can mix for you.”

“That’d be nice,” Kara says. “I’m still not sure what I really like, though.”

“Just means we’ll have to play around,” Pepper smiles, and she and Maya lead Kara over toward the bar.

Meanwhile, Rhodey’s found Tony, who is eyeing him suspiciously (but at least he’s conceded the shots contest). “Did we break up?” Tony asks, a little too lightly for it to be entirely a joke.

“C’mon, man, you know what’s going on.”

“I know, but you always help me decorate.” Tony’s starting to pout a little again. Clearly the alcohol isn’t helping.

Rhodey sighs. “Kara just needs a friend right now. You’ve got Pepper and all these other people, you’re fine.”

Tony hunches over in his seat. “Friend my ass.”

“I’m not _you_ , I don’t scam on girls,” teases Rhodey.

“True,” Tony mutters. “You’re better than me and we both know it.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t talk the younger set into joining you in these costume shenanigans,” teases Bruce as he, Mack, and Bobbi enter the house.

“There’s no way I would have been able to talk Fitz into wearing anything that brightly colored,” Bobbi shrugs cheerfully. “And Skye and Jemma said they already had super-secret plans. If they didn’t even tell _me_ , they really are secret.”

Mack chuckles. “Seriously. Is there anything they _don’t_ tell you? Besides this?”

“There are some things they haven’t told me _yet_ ,” she replies coyly. “But it’s due to happen.”

“Okay, we’re rapidly heading into _I don’t want to know about your sex life_ territory,” says Mack, holding up a hand. “You’ve already talked me into wearing this getup, spare a thought for my feelings.”

“I think you look cute,” chimes in Bruce with a shy smile.

Mack grabs his hand and squeezes it. “You have to say that, Doc,” he says teasingly.

“Well, I meant it,” says Bruce, bumping his shoulder affectionately.

“Ew,” Bobbi says helpfully, knocking on the door.

Pepper opens the door for them and immediately starts laughing. “Rainbow Brite!” she exclaims. “And Starlite too. Of course.” She smiles at Bruce. “And a good old-fashioned pumpkin, because nobody represents for the classics anymore.”

Bruce smiles. “I thought it was appropriate.”

Bobbi nudges Mack, grinning. “Told you people would get it.”

Mack glares at her. “You’re lucky I’m a very secure person.”

“Poor pony,” she coos.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, which has the effect of shaking the yarn mane around a bit.

“Come in,” Pepper says. “There’s alcohol. That might make it better.”

“Thanks,” Mack says, going inside and making a beeline for the bar.

“Kara here yet?” Bobbi asks.

Pepper nods to where Kara and Rhodey are currently standing, working on drinks, and with a wave Bobbi goes to greet them. “Holy shit, you guys look adorable,” she says, because they do.

“Well, I was going for suave and dashing, but adorable will do,” jokes Rhodey.

“Suave, dashing, sure, okay, but together,” Bobbi says. “I might be the worst at noticing this kind of adorable, too, so if I do that means it’s a compliment.”

“Thanks,” Kara says sheepishly. “It, uh, seemed appropriate.”

Rhodey smiles at her and nods. “I mean, she’s the one who agreed to do this, kudos to her.”

“It turned out really well,” Bobbi assures them. “Did you actually make any of it?”

Kara nods. “I did, I mean it amounted to sewing fabric scraps off the discount pile onto the cheapest Goodwill dress I could find, but as far as that goes.”

“You did a great job,” says Rhodey. “I mean, all I did was buy a striped suit and paint my face.”

“But it’s a nice suit,” Kara says. “And it’s not from the Halloween store.”

He laughs. “True.”

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. This is both unexpected and charming. “Been having a nice night?” she asks, but Rhodey’s attention seems diverted.

It’s Tony, of course, because it always is. Tony’s full-on glaring at Mack, and he’s saying (not exactly quietly) “So, I hope you’re enjoying Bruce? Because he’s a pretty great guy, y’know.”

Mack blinks. “Uh. I am, thanks. I’m pretty fond of him.”

“Tony, maybe you should stop drinking for a while,” says Bruce, eyes darting around the room.

“You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my boyfriend!” replies Tony, downing another shot.

“No, but I am your friend, and I don’t want you to get sick.” Bruce leans over to slide the bottle he’s been pouring from out of his reach.

Tony whines, “Why didn’t you like me?”

Mack coughs. “Uh, I’m gonna go find Steve and the others. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Oh good, we’re gonna do this now,” sighs Bruce. “Look, Tony, I didn’t even know you were into me before I started dating Mack. You know how Pepper’s always telling you to use your words? You should’ve done that.”

Pouting, Tony replies, “That’s hard. I’d rather just buy you things.”

“Well, that’s not how dating works,” says Bruce gently. “Will you please be at least civil to Mack tonight?”

“Fine,” says Tony with an exaggerated sigh. “If he likes you, he can’t be all bad. Plus, ye gods those arms.”

“Well, I’m glad you settled that so publicly,” Pepper sighs. “There are witnesses if you ever go back on that promise.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” says Rhodey, who’s been put on babysitting Loki duty for the moment, “who are you dressed as?”

“Prince Demande, leader of the Black Moon Clan,” says Loki, striking a pose. He’s had more than a few drinks tonight (which is why he needs babysitting, otherwise he’ll just wander up to anyone convenient and wax philosophic at them).

“Uh...huh.” Rhodey nods very slowly. “Do you think maybe you could give me a clue about, like, what that’s from?”

Loki snorts. “ _Sailor Moon,_ peasant.”

“Year too late for me to Supreme Thunder your ass,” chirps Darcy as she twirls up. True to her word at summer trivia, she’s dressed as an evil (which amounts to vampiric and knife-wielding) bumblebee.

This makes Loki huff, as dignified as he can be while wearing a white suit, black-and-purple cape, and ridiculous floppy wig. “So you see,” he says indignantly to Rhodey, “we are both rulers.”

“Sure,” replies Rhodey, currently thinking about how to strangle Thor (who’d dropped off Loki three minutes ago).

Fandral strolls over, smirking. “Ah, Demande! Where’s your queen tonight? I heard she might be here tonight as well.”

“We haven’t spoken in a while,” says Loki, his face devoid of emotion.

Darcy, who of course heard all about that particular incident from Rogue who heard from Nebula, snorts. “That’s one way of putting it,” she says, and then those same girls and the rest of their group are wandering in and it’s time to go say hello.

In Rogue’s case, with a kiss.

“Hey, sugar,” Rogue purrs.

“Hey yourself,” Darcy murmurs. “Hey, everyone else!”

“Hey!” Carina singsongs.

“Hello,” says Laura, adjusting her cowboy hat. “Or perhaps I should say howdy, since that is more appropriate to my costume.”

Cessily, dressed in a similar cowgirl outfit, giggles. “You’re cute.”

“Where is the alcohol?” calls Drax from behind the Helldivers. “I am looking forward to imbibing much of it tonight!”

“You took the words right out of my mouth!” says Quill with a grin.

“I did not! That is not possible, because words have no physical form!”

“Oh my god,” Gamora mutters, adjusting the one shoulder of her incredibly low-effort toga and making her way toward the bar.

Fandral wanders up to Carina and Nebula and asks, “So, doesn’t Lorelei hang out with you sometimes? Where is she?”

Carina shrugs. “I didn’t hear from her.”

“Why, you looking to score?” asks Nebula.

Fandral looks mildly affronted and is about to respond when Sif says, “Did you learn nothing from the last time? Your sprained tongue?”

Darcy snorts and buries her face against Rogue’s shoulder.

“That sounds absolutely thrilling, Fandral, do you want to tell us that story?” Linnea asks archly.

Fandral sputters. Sif, seeing an opportunity, smirks and adds, “If you’re not interested in Linnea anymore, I think I’ll have a go.”

“Round two, you mean,” Linnea smirks back.

“Of course. How could I forget the first time?”

Hogun pokes Sif in the arm and says, “Don’t be greedy, Sif.”

“I’m not! Merely trying to figure out where they stand.”

“Well, I thought we stood someplace moderately acceptable,” Linnea says.

“Er…” Fandral looks a bit lost.

Just then Sif sees Melinda across the room and suddenly says, “Time to table this discussion for another day” before going to join her.

Enough guests have arrived by now that one entrance doesn’t make much of a splash, but six people arriving all in a bunch means that Darcy has to check it out. She’s the judge of the costume contest, after all. The costume contest she invented.

“So sexy Alice,” she begins, nodding approvingly at Karen. “Sexy nurse?”

“Ironically sexy nurse,” replies Claire with a smirk.

“Fun,” Darcy says. “The boys are… a really naughty metaphor?”

Foggy’s eyes get huge. “I didn’t think of that, oh god!”

Matt laughs. “And yet you told me to wear _this_ version. The sexy zookeeper version.”

“Well, yeah.” Foggy sounds unapologetic. “What else goes with a bear?”

Helen giggles into her hand, or rather her fin.

“So Akela is a dragon and that’s fucking awesome,” Darcy says, “but I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing with Helen’s?”

Helen grins cheekily. “I’m Left Shark,” she says.

“Holy shit,” Darcy exclaims, actually slapping her knee she’s laughing so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we can all agree that Tony Stark is bisexual, right?


	64. no it's my heart you're shit out of luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Tony's Halloween party; amidst a variety of side conversations, there is a grand entrance and there are many embarrassing encounters.

The makeshift dance floor is getting a decent amount of attention (the music playing is something generic and club-like, since Darcy has been forbidden from going anywhere near the sound system). Trip, in his Cyberman outfit, is doing the robot ironically, much to Dalek Fitz’s chagrin (and Skye and Jemma’s amusement). Laura and Cessily are attempting to dance and doing a terrible job, but it’s adorable and they seem to be enjoying themselves.

Carina (who’s already shed the lab coat she wore and left it on her girlfriend’s lap as a punishment for not wanting to dance) and Karen (whose four-inch Mary Janes have already been kicked off and set next to the couch Matt and Foggy are occupying) are twirling each other in circles and laughing hysterically.

Loki strolls over to where Lorelei and Raina are mixing drinks and giggling, and glancing at their coordinated sexy Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy costumes, asks pointedly, “Isn’t Harley meant to be a blonde?”

A hush falls over the crowd.

“Well, Poison Ivy’s also supposed to be green but I don’t see you saying anything about _that_ ,” mutters Skye.

Possessively (in a way that isn’t usually so sincere) Lorelei wraps an arm around Raina’s waist and says, “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Erm,” says Loki, who did not think this through.

Grinning, Raina produces an inflatable mallet from nowhere and bops Loki on the head, just as Darcy finally calls up an app on her phone and uses it to chastise him with a jangling bell and a chorus of “ _Shame! Shame! Shame!”_

Hannah and Heimdall raise eyebrows at each other and snicker. “I’m missing the joke here,” says Tony, tilting his head.

“Good,” says Pepper, who has made it a personal goal to keep that particular canon away from Tony at all costs.

Loki blinks and shakes his head, attempting to process what’s just happened.

“He had that coming, didn’t he?” Helen asks Akela.

Akela smirks. “He did.”

“Good, then,” Helen nods.

Foggy, who’s standing near Skye and Jemma, glances over at their costumes and tilts his head. “Are you, uh…Transformers?”

“No, dude, we’re Seismic Crystal’s pilots!” replies Skye with a grin. “Have you seen _Pacific Rim_?”

“Of course,” scoffs Foggy, grinning back. “So you’re Jaeger pilots?”

“Well, Seismic Crystal is our Jaeger!” Jemma chirps. “She’s wonderful. We kick kaiju ass.”

“Hell yeah we do!” says Skye, leaning over to kiss Jemma (as best she can, since they’re both wearing cardboard suits).

“That’s awesome,” Foggy says once they’ve stopped kissing (it takes a minute). “Matt over there is my sexy zookeeper.” He waves one of his hands - or paws, at the moment - toward Matt, who is chatting with Drax.

Skye lets a snort escape before she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god,” she says after a moment.

“Why… sexy, exactly?” Jemma asks.

Foggy shrugs. “Cause it was an option. And I mean, he is.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jemma says cheerfully.

Mack strolls over from where he’s been kicking a reasonable amount of ass in the billiards room. He looks surprisingly dignified, for someone wearing a magic horse costume. “Hey,” he says. “How y’all doing?”

“Oh my god,” says Skye, “are you Rainbow Brite’s magic horse?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Was her idea.” He nods at Bobbi.

“This is the only context in which I would ever ride him,” Bobbi chirps, striking a pose with her hands on her hips and affecting a bright tone to her voice before calling out, “Come on, Starlite!”

“If you think you’re actually going to physically ride me, you got another think coming, girl,” replies Mack. “In any way, at all.”

“I think he looks cute,” says Bruce shyly.

Mack smiles and reaches for Bruce’s hand. “Same to you, Doc.”

“Erm, yes, he’s. Mack’s. Yes,” says Fitz, obviously flustered.

Trip smiles fondly. “Got a type, do you?”

Jemma giggles against Skye’s cardboard-covered shoulder. “If you’d have asked us to join any other year I’d have agreed,” she says to Bobbi, assuming correctly that Fitz will want that particular point brushed over as quickly as possible. “I could’ve been the purple one.”

“You would’ve been adorable,” murmurs Skye. “Also, that would’ve been super queer, like, holy shit.”

“Half the point,” Jemma chirps.

“Well, anyway,” Mack says, “I just came over after my respectable defeat at pool. Melinda and Sif are still in there, going head to head. _Not_ like that,” he adds before Bobbi can do more than smirk.

Maria overhears him and shuffles awkwardly in place, making a face like she’s not sure whether she wants to scream or cry.

“Hey,” Maya whispers, nudging Maria’s shoulder. “Wanna dance, maybe? The music is still…”

“Sure!” says Maria, in an exaggerated cheerful tone. Might as well dance with her friend if her crush is going to be flirting with another woman.

“Cool,” Maya nods. “Cool. Let’s…” She nods to the makeshift dance floor, starts to shuffle in that direction.

Heimdall watches them, smiling. “I wish only the best for Sif and Maria both,” he remarks to Hannah, “and, while Melinda has made her preference known, I think perhaps Maria does not see that someone better is right in front of her.”

Hannah grins over her glass of orange juice. “Love comes in at the eyes,” she agrees.

He chuckles. “Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

Quill’s eyes are huge as he gazes around the room. “Jesus christ, you could fit my whole neighborhood in this room!”

“At least my entire building, in the house,” Carina shrugs.

“And this booze…” Quill pauses to take another drink. “Fancy shit. What the hell are we doing here?”

“We are having a good time!” Drax replies, doing his own odd shuffling-dance.

“I expect Stark is the sort who invites people to his parties to prove to himself that he’s well-liked,” Gamora drawls.

Nebula snorts. “Whether or not it’s actually true. Oh well, open bar. Good enough for me.”

“Don’t take advantage of it too much,” Gamora says.

“Whatever,” says Nebula with a roll of her eyes.

“Hello!” a pair of voices call, and then Billy and Eric Koenig are standing in front of the group. “We haven’t met you before!” One of them waves and the other holds out his hand.

Quill blinks. “Uh. Hi there?”

“Billy Koenig!” “And Eric Koenig!” They speak the names individually, but it’s hard to keep track of which one’s speaking.

“From Kohl’s, right?” Carina offers.

“Yup!” They’re back to speaking as a unit now. “You were at Christmas.”

She nods, giggling. “These are my friends from across the street, mostly.”

“Where do you all work?” they ask.

“The tattoo shop is ours,” Gamora says, motioning between herself and Drax.

“And I’m there too,” grunts Nebula. “Sometimes. When I feel like it.”

“I own Quill’s Boards!” Quill says with a lazy grin.

“We’re in Nebula’s band,” drawls Rogue, indicating herself and the rest of the Helldivers. “And that one’s Laura’s.” Cessily blushes and smiles shyly.

“Nice to meet you!” they say with a smile. “You all...have a lot of tattoos.” They don’t sound judgmental, just puzzled.

“Tends to go with being tattoo artists and friends of tattoo artists,” Gamora says, smirking.

“And more-than-friends,” Carina giggles, although it’s not like the Koenigs can see her ink.

They both chuckle nervously. “Yes. What’s your costume?” they ask Drax, who’s wearing what seems to be some sort of wooden puppet costume. It’s much more unnerving on him than it ought to be.

“I am Pinocchio!” says Drax. “We are supposed to dress up as things that we find frightening, and I find Pinocchio very frightening.”

They blink. “It’s certainly...something.”

Nebula snorts. “Please. Nobody dresses as shit that scares them. I’m not scared of vampires, Carina’s not scared of science or candy.”

“I am not nobody!” objects Drax. “I exist, therefore I am somebody!”

“I would agree that your costume, as well as the film it was inspired by, is frightening,” comments Thor from nearby. Jane wrinkles her nose sympathetically and gives his hand a squeeze.

This conversation seems about to continue when they’re interrupted by Darcy whacking Jane in the arm, pointing in the direction of the door, and stage-whispering “ _Dude._ ”

“Damn,” Gamora agrees, and if she’s impressed it must be impressive.

Their attention, and that of the entire rest of the room, has been drawn by the unassuming entrance of Steve-Bucky-Natasha-Sharon-Sam. Or it’s unassuming in that they hadn’t meant to Make An Entrance, they just stopped in the doorway for normal reasons and it turned out like a pose by virtue of their costumes. Steve actually hasn’t shaved in a few days, which is the biggest eyecatcher as far as his costume goes since the rest of it is fairly standard-issue but dirty adventure man clothing; Natasha and Sharon and Sam are mostly wrapped in strategically placed white gauze and accessorized (Natasha with braids and goggles atop her head, Sharon with a very obvious fake pregnant belly, Sam with a makeshift hood and an erudite expression); Bucky’s prosthetic arm is on full display, there’s eye makeup smeared up to his hairline, and he’s actually cut his hair short.

“ _Witness!_ ” Darcy shouts, and Bucky lifts a terrifying steering wheel into the air.

“Nice baby bump, Splendid,” Bobbi calls out, smirking as she and Skye and Jemma come closer to inspect the costumes in detail and everyone else resumes business as usual, and Sharon cheerfully flips her off.

“Nice ponytail, Rainbow,” replies Natasha with a grin.

Steve coughs into his hand and loudly exclaims, “ _Herm_.”

“What, are Dag and Cheedo off making out?” snarks Skye.

“As is their business,” Sharon replies with a cool shrug, trying not to laugh.

“I mean, fuck the canon, I wanna go make out with Sharon,” Natasha remarks.

‘ _Mrrr_ ,” Steve shouts, looking mildly horrified.

“Y’know,” Bobbi says to the girls, “I think this is the only appropriate time to ship Max and Furiosa.”

Skye snickers and Jemma just nods. “It’s not just compulsive heteronormativity this way,” she declares.

Sam pouts. “I see how it is, excluding me.” He grabs Steve’s face and plants one on him.

“Come, come,” Sharon giggles, turning to give Sam a kiss as well.

“You’re disgusting,” Bobbi says cheerfully.

“Damn right,” says Natasha, pulling Sharon in for her own kiss.

Across the room, Rhodey notices Kara making a weird face. “Hey, you okay?”

Kara sighs. “It’s stupid, don’t worry about it.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

“It’s just…” She looks at her feet very intently. “Look at all these hot girls, I mean look at Natasha and Sharon and, and Bobbi and Sif and Maria and Karen and… look at them, and look at me.”

“Hey,” he says gently. “Don’t compare yourself, okay? I don’t see a difference.”

Her eyes go wide. “I…”

Rhodey smiles. “Do you wanna dance? It’s okay if not, I just thought…”

“No, I’d, I’d really like that,” Kara nods. “Don’t be mad if I step on your feet?”

Chuckling, he replies, “You kidding? It’ll be a miracle if I don’t step on yours.”

 

* * *

 

Tony, who’s been watching Rhodey and Kara dance for a few minutes, makes a confused noise. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” Pepper asks, appearing beside him with a drink (her third) in hand.

“Them.” Tony waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the dance floor. “He’s got somebody and I don’t.”

“I don’t know what he does or doesn’t have,” she replies softly. “I know that he and Kara are getting to be close, and I know that Kara needs close right now, and it seems good for him too.”

“But what do I have to do?” he nearly whines.

“What are you talking about?”

He shrugs. “To...find somebody. I dunno. I’m making another drink.”

“How many is that?”

“Lots? I lost count.”

“I think,” Pepper begins, pausing after the words as if to lend them some drama, “I think you’re too concerned about what it looks like. You don’t know how to act like a real person.”

“I’ll drink to that,” says Hope, appearing at the other end of the bar.

“Oh, hey boss lady,” Tony says. “Did you just have that armor laying around?”

“Would you believe the answer was yes?” Hope deadpans.

He nods. “Yes, actually. You seem the type. Bet you get a lot of ladies with that.”

She chuckles, pours herself a whiskey, raises it in a toast. “Finally you accept it.”

“Accept what?” asks Helen, materializing from behind the bar (she’s been searching for napkins - the fins are funny, but they’ve not made for her most graceful night ever).

“Accept that she’s got better luck with women than me,” Tony says, in an attempt to sound self-deprecating (maybe that technique will work).

“Well, I think the suit of armor is very charming,” Helen says sweetly. “Pun intended, perhaps.”

Hope smirks and gives half a bow.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me? Seriously?” Tony puts his head in his hands. “Right in front of me this happens.”

“I prefer a well-made suit of armor on a lady knight to the impresario of an organization that objectifies women,” Helen shrugs. “Or whatever you’re supposed to be tonight.”

He shrugs and takes a swig of his current drink. “Fair point.”

 

* * *

 

“I like your costume, mate.” Lance takes a drink of his beer.

“Thanks. Yours too.” Coulson grins and tips his Heisenberg. “Great show.”

“Hell yeah. I miss ol’ fuckup Walter White.” Lance straightens the beanie he’s wearing.

“He was oddly compelling,” agrees Coulson. “Terrible situation. At least your guy made it out all right in the end.”

Lance chuckles. “Few bumps and bruises, but yeah. Turned out alright, all things considered. Jesse deserved that much, at least.”

Meanwhile, Maria has drunk enough to take that conversation as an invitation to start ranting somewhat loudly. “You know what sucks,” she says, “is when you get a woman in a movie or a show, and she’s totally fucking correct when she says ‘stop making meth’ or ‘tell me the truth,’ and the audience fucking hates her guts for...what, being the voice of reason? It sucks.”

“You already mentioned that,” Maya teases. “But it does suck. You know what else sucks? That a couple of drug-pushing assholes are what a lot of people think of now when they think of science.”

“Yeah,” Jane agrees, sipping her beer and nodding enthusiastically.

“Or the fact that people have started sticking cartoons of that idiot’s stupid face on their car like it’s something to aspire to,” Victoria mutters.

Isabelle rolls her eyes. “It’s technically well-made, but I never got why I was supposed to root for him.”

“I never liked how all the women I saw were either portrayed as idiots, villainized, or dead,” Sif chimes in.

“Or some combination thereof,” Bobbi sighs, rolling her eyes.

Melinda smirks.

Coulson, overhearing their trash-talking, pouts. Lance fires back, “Well, 12 Emmys and 2 Golden Globes can’t all be wrong, eh?”

“Emmys and Golden Globes voted on by an invisible consortium of randoms who may well be bought off, if not misled by allegedly popular critical opinion,” Bobbi retorts.

“You just don’t get it,” sniffs Lance. “I wouldn’t expect you to, though.”

“What is there to get about a guy who thinks the solution to all of his problems is to cook meth?” Bobbi scoffs. “Who thinks his wife and family should _thank him_ for becoming a major criminal?”

“Well…” Lance starts to say something, and then he makes a noise that sounds not unlike _nyaaaaah_ and turns back to Coulson. “C’mon, she’s making it all about boys vs. girls on purpose. We don’t have to listen to this.”

Isabelle snorts, not even bothering to hide it. “Hunter, you never could take criticism, even when it wasn’t directed at you.”

“Hey now,” says Coulson. “That’s unkind. He’s trying his best.”

Lance gives him a withering look, and it seems that only at that point does Coulson realize what he actually said.

“I think we hit a nerve,” Maya stage-whispers.

Glaring, Lance starts walking towards the other side of the room, Coulson in tow. “Birds over here’ll be less harpie-esque,” he comments.

“Who are the idiots?” Vanessa asks Natasha in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ve met the one, haven’t I? He has a face that I feel as if I remember, but the name didn’t bother sticking.”

“Coulson and Hunter,” replies Natasha with a roll of her eyes. “Coulson’s okay sometimes, just kind of a hapless idiot. Hunter’s...well. He thinks snark and flirting makes him an interesting person.”

“Why would two things that anyone could be capable of make him more special than anyone else?” Vanessa sniffs, clearly disinterested.

“Some new gossip?” Audrey asks, gliding back over with a bottle of wine in her hand.

“Just exposition,” Sharon grins, and she holds out both her glass and Audrey’s own to be filled.

Natasha chuckles. “Bobbi and company were responding to _Breaking Bad_ costumes by breaking down the badness of the show, as it were.”

Audrey wrinkles her nose. “I see,” she says, casting a vaguely sympathetic glance in Coulson’s direction before adding, “I never got it, personally, but maybe that’s just me.”

Coulson nudges Lance. “You know much about Audrey?”

“Nah, but she’s pretty classy, eh?” Lance glances over at Bobbi nervously. If Audrey’s talking to Natasha, she probably also knows Bobbi.

“She is.” Coulson sighs. “I don’t think I’m getting anywhere with Melinda, so I figure maybe I’ll set my sights on a different woman.”

“Well, uh, best of luck to you.” Lance takes another (long) swig of beer.

Tony, who’s eavesdropping, blinks at Pepper. “Is that how people actually date? They don’t just come to you, you have to go at it like _House Hunters_?”

“It’s not actually that simple, either,” Pepper sighs. “You go out, you meet people, but you don’t go at it thinking in terms of backup plans. It’s not a job search.”

“Weird.” Tony shakes his head. “Also, is Coulson not classy? I mean, he wears suits to work. He wears suits on his days _off_ , probably.”

“He isn’t… not classy,” Pepper says. “But I think what Hunter means is that Audrey is classier. More refined. Cultured, although I doubt he’d say that directly.”

“Huh. Gotcha.” Tony rests his head on one hand. “Thanks, Pep. I appreciate you explaining stuff.”

She laughs tiredly. “I do what I can.”

He shrugs. “Be back in a sec.” Standing up, he walks (mostly without wobbling) towards the group of women. Specifically, towards Vanessa. First, though, he turns to Audrey and says, “Nice costume, very nice, good witch, yes. And you,” he continues to Vanessa, “look like a much naughtier, but still classy witch.”

Pepper downs the rest of her drink and hides her face behind her hands.

“You’ve never heard of Yvonne Clifford?” Vanessa asks archly.

“Uh, no. No relation to the big red dog, I assume?” Tony tries for a charming smile.

“Seeing as she was a woman and not a storybook canine, you assume correctly,” she retorts.

“Cool. I like it when I do that. How about you tell me about her?”

“She was only one of the most critically acclaimed French film actresses of the 1940s,” Vanessa drawls, rolling her eyes showily though not sarcastically.

Tony nods slowly. “Uh huh. Yeah, I haven’t seen anything from before 1977, and definitely not much French film. She must’ve been really something, though. You pull it off well.”

“You should consider expanding your horizons, then,” Vanessa says, ignoring the compliment entirely.

Natasha opens her mouth, then closes it again and smiles wickedly. She _could_ interfere and shoo Tony off, but this is too entertaining.

“I think we could expand each other’s horizons,” says Tony with a completely straight face.

“Oh, darling,” Vanessa purrs. “I have never had my horizons expanded by a child.”

That makes Natasha snort, Sharon stifle a laugh behind her hand, and even polite Audrey giggles into her wineglass.


	65. for bright lights and cityscapes and landslides and masquerades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of Tony's Halloween party; a certain asshole gets his due, and Darcy holds a costume contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for _The Shepherd's Crown_ by Terry Pratchett in the final section. Apologies if you haven't read Discworld, but you really should, because it is great.

Tony, still sulking from Vanessa’s verbal onslaught, slips off to his favorite hiding spot. His secret room. He made it years ago, and even Dad doesn’t know about it. It’s where he wired all the security camera feeds and the alarm systems, and even if nothing more exciting than an invading raccoon is walking around outside, it makes him feel like he’s a king overseeing his domain. Or maybe a god, but he suspects gods generally have more interesting domains.

He’s not really expecting to see anything interesting right now - the backyard’s quiet, so are the sides of the house - but when he flicks to the front porch feed, what does he see but one Grant Ward walking towards the house, wearing...well, jeans and a brightly colored contraption around his groin that has plastic balls inside. And no shirt.

“The hell?” Tony tries to zoom in a little. There’s a sign on the front that says COME PLAY WITH MY BALLS! “Oh, ballpit, haha, clever.” Time to see if his surprise works. (It will, of course.)

Ward’s walking confidently, going up the steps in a way that suggests that he feels perfectly comfortable with this luxurious house. He reaches for the doorbell and rings it once.

Which is when Jarvis says “Nazis are not welcome at this residence” and the porch turns into a spring-loaded launchpad, sending Ward tumbling onto the lawn.

Tony takes a celebratory swig of his beer. “Good work, Jarvis.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Ward, of course, tries it again, with similar results. The third time, Jarvis informs him, “If you continue to attempt to enter this house, I will be forced to employ more drastic measures.” This is accompanied by what looks like a machine gun popping up out of the porch cover. (It’s not, it’s one of Tony’s best paintball guns, but he had it made to look like the real thing.)

“Fuck you, Stark!” yells Ward, pounding on the door. Which was, of course, the wrong thing to do.

Tony’s gotta hand it to him, he stays standing through the first ten or so shots. After that, though, one gets him in the crotch and he collapses, yelling in pain. The gun keeps firing until he staggers up and limps away, yelling, “You can’t protect her forever!”

“Brava, truly an incredible performance.” Tony applauds himself. Then he pulls out his phone to text Pepper.

_> >COME 2 THE INNER SANCTUM I GOTTA SHOW U SOMETHIN_

_> >Tony! I don’t care how sad you are, I don’t want to see your penis!_

_> >ITS NOT MY PENIS. CROTCH SHOT THO. GUESS WHO JUST DROVE OFF A NAZI BY HIMSELF?_

_> >Jarvis?_

_> >OK FINE. COME SEE!!!!!_

Pepper’s appearance is heralded by a knock and a very beleaguered sounding Jarvis spelling out the word “vagina.”

“Tony, you have got to change your password to this place,” she sighs as the door opens.

“No I don’t. It’s _my_ inner sanctum,” says Tony with a pout. “Anyway, come see this.”

“Well, insofar as it’s a very childish password and children have recently been expelled from one, I suppose that fits,” Pepper replies, but she comes as asked.

Tony taps the playback button with all the glee of a child playing with a new toy.

“What in the hell is he dressed as?” is Pepper’s first reaction.

“Ballpit. Almost clever. A bit cold for my tastes though, considering the weather, but just keep watching.”

“So that makes him the giant dick,” she muses, smirking. The video keeps on, though, and she can’t help but gasp. And then laugh hysterically.

Tony’s grinning. “Awesome, right? Went off beautifully.”

“I hope he wasn’t hurt seriously enough that he would take you to court,” Pepper says, “but barring that potential disaster it was very well-executed.”

“He won’t. Nobody would ever believe him. I mean, spring-loaded porch? C’mon. But I’m totally burning copies of this.”

“Evidence,” she warns. “But it wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh please. Dad can buy off any judge.” Tony smirks. “He totally deserved it. Should I give a copy to Rhodey, do you think? For his girl?”

“His girl?” Pepper asks, because playing dumb is a reasonable way to give Tony a chance to not behave like an asshole.

“Yeah, y’know. Kara. They’re all…” Tony makes a vague gesture with his fingers. “Close. Couple-y.”

“They’re friends,” she says. “She’s actually willing to wear a real Halloween costume with him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he says with a shrug. “Whatever. You think she’d wanna see this?”

“There’s a chance,” she says. “It might be helpful.”

“Cool. You wanna go spread the news?”

“I’ll go share the information,” she says, smirking. “I can’t be accountable for how it gets out beyond my target audience.”

“You’re agreeing to participate in gossip,” teases Tony. “I didn’t even think that was possible.”

“I’m agreeing to feed your ego, which is even more shocking, but there you have it,” Pepper shrugs. “The situation calls for it.”

“My ego appreciates.”

 

* * *

 

“Hill?”

“Sir?” Maria blinks. Not only was she not expecting to see her boss here, she can’t tell what the hell he’s supposed to be dressed as. “You’re very, um.”

“I’m purple,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I can see that. Um, what exactly is your costume?”

“Purple.” He stares a moment before adding, “I heard Lewis has some ridiculous contest planned for later. Probably gonna try to give everybody something. I guess you can take mine.”

This isn’t even the weirdest thing that has happened this week, honestly. “Will do, sir,” she says with a nod.

Maya chuckles into her hand, giving the grown-ups a salute. “I assume you’ve got somewhere classier to be,” she says.

Irani smirks - partially at Maya’s assumption and partially at the affectionate grin Maria gives Maya - and nods politely. “We’ll see how the evening goes.”  
“Love the dress,” Maya adds, waving at Irani’s outfit.

“Thank you,” Irani replies. “It’s more difficult to find antique wedding dresses than one would think. Still, I hope that Dickens would feel I am paying her tribute adequately.”

“Dickens would probably just be glad you gave a fuck,” Maria replies with a grin. “Havisham’s not exactly a popular character.”

Irani snorts. “True enough. Unfortunate, that. Nicholas, we’d best be going, I still need to speak with Karen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Fury leaves with her, and Maria turns to stare at Maya, shocked.

“Well, that happened,” Maya says faintly.

“I don’t think I’ve _ever heard_ Fury say ‘yes ma’am,’” Maria says. “I’m...I have to pretend that didn’t happen.”

Even though they’re mostly out of earshot by now, Irani hears Maria’s last statement and laughs. “You’re frightening them, Nicholas,” she says with a smirk.

“Good,” he replies. “Keeps ‘em on their toes.”

Irani finds Karen by the bar, mixing drinks with Kara and Rhodey. “Karen! Kara!” she says with a smile. “Good evening.”

“Hey, Irani,” Kara says with a shy smile.

“You guys headin’ out?” Karen asks.

“Fairly soon,” replies Irani. “I wanted to tell you to please feel free to accept whatever ludicrous prize Ms. Lewis awards me for my costume.”

“Does this mean I can get it framed for you and hang it in the office?” Karen grins.

“If you must.” Irani rolls her eyes fondly. “You’re looking lovely this evening. Kara, you as well.”

“Thanks,” Kara beams. “It was his idea.” And very gently, she bumps Rhodey’s shoulder with her own.

Rhodey chuckles. “Hell, she pulls this off better than I do.”

“You look quite dashing,” replies Irani. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well, Kara.”

“I really am,” Kara murmurs. “Not to get all sappy on you when you’re trying to leave, but you’ve been a big part of that. Thanks.”

“Goodness, you needn’t apologize. I’m happy to help.” Irani smiles fondly. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“You’re kind of the best boss ever,” Karen declares.

“You’d be the first to say that,” Irani replies, chuckling. “Thank you.”

Karen looks slyly at Fury. “Well, I’m sure I’m not the only one who tells you you’re the best somethin’,” she says, because she knows she can get away with it.

Pointedly, neither Fury nor Irani react to that. “Have a good time,” says Irani as they turn to leave. “Do say hello to your boys for me, Karen.”

“Promise,” Karen grins.

 

* * *

 

“So he’s out there on the porch and he’s getting _pummeled_ with paintballs,” Pepper says to Darcy, smirking behind her glass.

“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” Darcy says. “And I’m guessing if Tony told you to tell me, it’s not something that needs to be kept hush-hush.”

“Good guess,” Pepper smirks.

“I’m gonna go spread the good word,” Darcy declares. “Thanks for the best mental image of all time.” And she runs over to the bench Skye and Jemma are currently occupying, grinning, “You guys are never going to believe this.”

“What?” Skye asks, grinning. Well, if Darcy’s so excited, it’s gotta be something good.

“Apparently Ward tried to sneak into the party and Tony programmed his robot butler to throw him out literally on his ass, then paintball him till he got off the property.”

“Oh my god!” Skye pumps her fist in the air. "That’s the best news ever!”

“There may be video, but it hasn’t been released to the public,” Darcy adds.

“Oh my _god_. It will be released to the public in a second.” Skye’s pulling out her phone.

“Good grief,” Jemma mumbles, chuckling. “Skye, you shouldn’t do things like that.”

“But it’s funny!”

“But one of these days it’s going to be trouble,” Jemma sighs.

“Until then it’s leading to amazing,” Darcy says.

Skye grabs Jemma’s hand and drags her over to where Bobbi is twirling Audrey’s magic wand around while she sips at her drink. “Guess what!” Skye announces.

“That’s a shit-eating grin if ever I saw,” Bobbi declares. “Some asshole on the internet being racist about _Star Wars_ got karmically blasted?”

“Probably, but nope! Tony rigged up the porch so Ward tried to get in and got thrown off and shot with a paintball gun!”

“Holy shit, that’s even better!” Bobbi crows.

“Part of me thinks it’s almost classy that Tony didn’t just broadcast this on a projector so we’d all see his glorious efforts,” Jemma smirks. “But then, he did brag to Pepper who bragged to Darcy, which is basically the same thing minus the satisfying visuals.”

Skye snorts. “Yeah. Anyway, thought you might wanna hear about that.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Bobbi says, and she sets Audrey’s wand down on the bar before rising from her stool and giving both girls a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll pass it on.”

“Okay,” Jemma squeaks.

Skye giggles. “Later, Bobbi.”

Bobbi’s intention is to go let Natasha and her bunch know, since they’ve been very invested in this situation as well, but on her way to find them she’s waylaid by a sneak-hug from behind. Of course, this makes her yell, because she’s not expecting it, but it’s clearly not from anyone threatening, since the arms around her waist are wrapped in space-print sleeves.

“Hey, fellow beloved children’s character remixed for adult purposes!”

“Laura, hey,” Bobbi laughs, turning around to face the woman. “I didn’t know you were gonna be at this thing.”

Laura shrugs blithely, blowing orange bangs out of her eyes. “Pepper invited me,” she says. “It seemed like a marginally more grown-up thing to do than hand out candy, and I’m not even sure if I’d get trick-or-treaters at my place.”

Bobbi nods. “Well, I’m getting a kick out of this,” she says, motioning to Laura’s dress. “Hey, so you remember that shitbag Grant Ward I was telling you about?”

“The one who got banned from the mall for being a horrible abusive asshole?” Laura clarifies. “Yeah, I remember. He didn’t do something else horrible, did he?”

“Well, he tried,” Bobbi smirks. “He tried to crash the party. I guess Tony rigged it up so the security system would throw him out on his ass, literally, if that happened, and then would reinforce that with paintballs if the initial throwing didn’t do the trick. Apparently it was spectacular.”

“That’s a badass security system, then,” Laura says, looking vaguely stunned.

‘Oh, the advantages of immense wealth,” Bobbi agrees wryly. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay? I’m gonna make sure everyone hears about this.”

“Sounds important,” Laura nods, waving Bobbi off and turning in the other direction with the vague intention of going to check out the game room.

Then Clint ambles over. “Howdy,” he says with a casual wave. “You look…” He glances over her outfit and apparently is so stunned he forgets to finish the sentence.

Laura giggles. “Is that a good lengthy pause?”

“Y-yeah, I…” Clint blinks. “You’re…” He coughs.

“I know, it’s kind of a weird choice for a sexy costume,” she shrugs. “But weird is fun.”

“No, ‘s good,” he mumbles, gaze falling to the floor. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“So...what are you doing here?” He wants to kick himself immediately.

“Taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy, of course,” she chirps.

He laughs, and from the back of his mind comes Troy Barnes’ voice: _I have the weirdest boner_. “How do you know Stark?” he asks, praying it’s not biblically.

“Who’s Stark?”

“Uh. The guy whose house this is?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Laura says. “Yeah, I haven’t actually met him. Pepper invited me. She came in to buy stuff for the party and we got to talking. Really nice woman.”

“Oh. Gotcha.” Clint nods. “Better keep it that way. Stark’s a real loser.”

“He must be kind of popular to have this big of a party,” Laura says, though she sounds doubtful.

Clint shrugs. “Big house, booze, pool table. That’ll draw a crowd.”

“Fair enough,” she nods.

He nods back, and they’re both quiet a moment. Clint stares at her costume some more. “So...you like...science?”

“I don’t dislike science, but I’m more into children’s literature,” she explains.

Oh. Interesting. “Cool,” he says with a lopsided grin. “You a teacher or something?”

“Technically I’m a graduate student,” she says. “I actually want to write kids’ books. I’m not sure yet if I wanna tend more toward picture books or chapter books or what, but I’m sorting it out.”

“That’s awesome! I’ll, uh, I’ll read them.” Well, that was one of the more moronic things he could’ve said. “Not that, uh, I don’t read, y’know, adult books. For adults.”

That makes her laugh. “A lot of grown-ups read kids’ books for fun, that’s not weird,” she says. “And it’s definitely more polite conversation than _adult_ books.” She says this last with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, I didn’t mean _adult_ like...shit.” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs. “I’m fucking up all over the place tonight.”

Grinning smugly, Darcy wanders by, hitting her phone to make it jingle and shout “ _Shame! Shame! Shame!_ ”

“Really?” he mutters.

“I know that’s not what you meant,” Laura confides. “It was just too easy.”

He laughs again. “I figured. You don’t seem like the kind of girl that would freak easily.”

“Well, when I ran into a cute guy who’d just gotten his ass kicked lying on the floor, I didn’t freak, so,” she shrugs.

He’s pretty sure he hears something in his brain break, and it takes him a minute to respond. “Um.” Brilliant, Barton.

“So, uh, you like farms?” she asks, because it seems like a good way to pretend she didn’t just say that to a guy she barely knows.

“Yeah, I guess. Kinda.” He coughs again.

Nebula takes this moment to wander by and snark, “If by ‘kinda’ you mean ‘I have paintings of farm animals all over my kitchen.’”

“Well, I just… there aren’t too many other reasons for a guy to dress up like a farmer,” Laura shrugs. “Than… liking farms. Or farm animals. Or farm… related activities.”

“Good point,” says Clint with a grin.

Natasha, having watched this entire conversation, puts her head in her hands and groans “Not _again_.”

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t care for these as a kid,” Fitz remarks. “Always felt a bit too much like Charlie Brown, I suppose.”

Trip runs a hand through Fitz’s hair soothingly. “I think that’s the point,” he replies. “You relate to Charlie Brown, ‘cause he’s hapless and doesn’t have a lot of friends, but he’s a nice kid.”

Fitz shrugs. “I suppose. I always thought the point was to make social and interpersonal commentary using seemingly innocent child characters.”

“You guys!” Darcy shouts, running into the room and glancing around. “Have you two been the only ones in here all night?”

“Mostly,” replies Trip with a shrug. “What’s up?”

“So I was coming just to tell you that Ward tried to crash the party and got his ass handed to him by a robot,” Darcy grins, “but then on the way over I saw the world’s most incredible crashing and burning on the part of Clint Barton and it’s too good to keep to myself.”

“Is it?” Fitz asks, not sounding thrilled.

“I mean, he’s just being super awkward turtle at new girl Laura from the candle store,” Darcy says cheerfully, “but it’s kind of amazing.”

Trip chuckles. “Sounds like business as usual, then.”

“He’s a breed of his own,” she declares.

Fitz grumbles, “Are you here just to interrupt _Peanuts_ or did you actually need something?”

“Well, I’m here to share a funny story, but I’m also here to tell you to come on, the costume contest is soon.”

“Oh.” Fitz sounds less than thrilled.

Trip squeezes his hand. “Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun. You wanna show off your kickass Dalek costume, right?”

“I suppose.” Fitz sighs and stands up, reaching for the exterior part of the aforementioned costume that’s next to him.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, everybody, let’s get this started!” Tony snaps his fingers a few times. “Darcy, you wanna take the proverbial mic?”

“‘Course I do,” Darcy grins. “As most of you have heard, I have deemed myself responsible for the first annual Stark Halloween Costume Extravaganza. The name is a work in progress. But some of you might be asking yourselves, how can it be fairly judged if I’m the only judge? _Well_! This bumblebee’s got a prize for every single one of you, so nobody is going to be left out!”

“Dear god,” Jane mutters to Sif.

“I think it’s only fitting that the first award of the night go to our half-assed playboy himself,” Darcy continues, grinning at Tony. “To Mr. Tony Stark, I award the prize for Least Effort, Period.”

Tony blinks. “Thanks? I mean, I think I’m flattered. Not really sure. This kind of seems like a backhanded award, honestly.”

“You’re not exactly Mr. Give a Fuck about costumes, Tony,” Rhodey calls.

Shrugging, Tony replies, “Point conceded.”

Darcy just smirks and hands him a gift certificate that looks like it was made in clip art hell. “Next, to one Peter Quill, I give the Phil Coulson Award For Barely A Costume At All.”

Nebula and Gamora applaud loudly. Coulson frowns. “Why is it named after me?”

“Thanks?” Quill’s got his head tilted like a dog.

“Well, you are the owner of a surf and skate shop dressed as a surfer,” Darcy says with a shrug, patting him on the shoulder as she hands him his certificate.

“Told you mine wasn’t going to be the most absurdly easy,” Gamora whispers to her sister.

“Whatever,” mutters Nebula. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“Now to the dapper… gentleman… sitting next to our gracious host, I give Who Are You? But Nice Suit, I Guess?” Darcy says cheerfully, waving at a man she probably hasn’t seen before who’s wearing what looks like a suit from a period piece drama.

He waves back half-heartedly. “Happy Hogan,” he says. “I keep Tony from getting into too much trouble.”

“Sounds like we need you around more often,” Darcy drawls. “I see our illustrious head of security has already begged off, which is a shame, because for coming as the color purple I award Nick Fury the prize for Best Least Effort.”

“I’ll take it for him,” says Maria with a smirk.

Darcy nods and passes the certificate her way before announcing, “For his tried and true Santa suit, Volstagg gets the award for Best Recycling.”

Volstagg laughs uproariously and accepts his certificate with a good-natured shrug.

“And on the Christmas tip, Most Delightfully Seasonally Inappropriate for our little angel baby Hannah,” Darcy adds.

“I’m not even a bit surprised,” Hannah smiles.

“Are we really going to go through this for everyone here?” Victoria calls out.

“Yes,” Darcy chirps. “For our Tweedle-Koenigs, I have Most Adorably Predictable.”

“Thank you!” they say, taking the certificate with identical smiles.

Darcy giggles. “For the great pumpkin Bruce Banner, I have Most Traditional.”

Bruce blushes and grins as he goes to accept it. “Gotta love the classics.”

“You rock them like nobody else can,” Darcy assures him. “Miss Gamora gets the award for Most Resourceful With Everyday Items.”

“Otherwise known as Best Costume Pulled Out Of Your Ass,” Gamora quips, going to take the certificate with a smirk.

“Hey, whatever you prefer,” Darcy agrees. “Most Accurate Villain for Prince Demande.”

Loki tosses his head. “Glad to know someone appreciates my brilliant ideas.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Raina giggles to Lorelei, only just bothering to make it under her breath.

“Fandral the male stripper gets… Most Likely to Cause a Cold,” Darcy announces.

“Not Sexiest?” he calls.

“Stiff competition,” she replies blithely.

“Very well. Another time, perhaps,” he says, visibly pouting as he takes his award. (It’s clearly supposed to be a sexy pout.)

“What is that?” Carina asks Lorelei in a low voice.

“Bruised male ego,” Lorelei shrugs.

“Now, we’re getting into our group costume awards,” Darcy announces. “For Most Appalling Couples’ Costume, the award goes to the meth buddies.”

There’s an indignant yelp from Lance and a confused noise from Coulson. “We’re not a couple!” Lance insists.

“Coulda fooled me, with those outfits,” Darcy replies. “Do you want your certificates or not?”

Grumbling, Lance snatches his from her hand, and Coulson, looking confused, grabs his as well.

“So I know Thor and Jane count as a real honest-to-god couple for reasons that I’m sure Jane does not want me to share,” Darcy singsongs, “so for their Cowardly Lion and Dorothy I award Cutest Couple (With Disturbing Undertones). Because, I mean, the Lion does have a romance with a human woman in the Maguire saga, but not Dorothy, because Dorothy is a literal child. But it’s coordinated canon, so that’s cute.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the lesson.”

Thor just beams. “Reasoning aside, you are very kind, Darcy!”

“No she isn’t,” pouts Lance. “She’s just daft, that’s what.”

Darcy sticks her tongue out at him before she continues. “Trip the Cyberman and Fitz the Dalek get Best Couples Costume That Would Be A Terrible Couple IRL,” she chirps.

Fitz snorts and Trip does a (clearly practiced) Cyberman walk up to receive the award. Skye cheers, too loudly.

“Well, that’s fucking adorable,” Darcy declares. “The sexy zookeeper and his bear get Best Unintentional Metaphor, because everyone needs to appreciate this shit.”

Foggy giggles - he’s had more than a little to drink - and Matt smirks. “Thanks?”

“You are so welcome, but I should be thanking you,” Darcy assures him. “Also it’s a nice view, for those of us who dig on that kinda thing.” She clears her throat. “On a similar note, Bobbi Brite and Starmack get Most Childhood-Breaking.”

Bobbi snorts out a laugh, fluffing her ponytail. “You’re ridiculous and also accurate.”

Mack sighs and shakes his head, which makes the mane flop around again. “If that name gets to be a thing, I’m holding you responsible,” he says to Bobbi.

“I accept that,” Bobbi shrugs.

“For our cowgirls, Best Matching Costume,” Darcy announces, nodding encouragingly.

Cessily giggles as she pulls Laura forward. Since her other arm is preoccupied with holding a large dark chestnut plush horse, she has to shuffle things around to have a hand to take the paper, but she finally does. Laura is smiling and looking vaguely puzzled, her hat tilted slightly.

“Baby gays are so cute,” murmurs Isabelle to Victoria, smiling.

“There is a charm to them,” Victoria agrees, then glances around to make sure nobody overheard her momentary sentimentalism.

Chuckling, Isabelle leans over to kiss her cheek. “Can’t have anyone hearing you say something nice,” she teases.

“It ruins my reputation.”

“So our adorable Jack and Sally, Rhodey and Kara, are getting Sweetest and Best,” Darcy announces. “Because really, that’s all we need to say. You guys win.”

Kara blushes, and Rhodey gently nudges her forward to take the award. “Hey, let’s go get it,” he says with a grin.

“Okay,” Kara whispers, and she goes for it. “Thank you,” she says to Darcy, and then to Rhodey, “Really, thank you.”

“Hey, like I said, you’re doing me a favor,” replies Rhodey.

“Same,” she says softly, and she gives a little wave at the crowd before she goes back to her seat.

Darcy can’t help it, she has to smile. That’s fucking precious. But so is the next award. “Carina and Nebula get the award for Best Canon Queer Girls, because _fuck_ the Cartoon Network, Bubblegum and Marceline should still be together,” she declares, smirking.

Carina giggles. “Thank you for agreeing,” she says.

Nebula smirks and adds, “Whatever, they’re too good for it anyway.”

“Your majesties,” Darcy says, bowing as she hands them their certificates.

“Damn straight.” Nebula looks almost genuinely happy as they walk away.

“My god, she’s actually being _precious_ ,” Gamora whispers loudly to Drax.

Drax frowns. “She is not a jewel, a diamond, or a type of metal. No part of her is especially shiny.”

“Will drinking more make you understand statements like that better or worse?” Gamora asks, and it’s a genuine question.

Shrugging, he grins and replies, “It is doubtful that it will be better.”

“On the note of queer girls, Skye and Jemma get Best OCs,” Darcy calls, grinning. “You’ve gotta tell us. What are the names of Seismic Crystal’s pilots?”

“Georgia Snow,” Jemma says with a cardboard-clumsy bow.

“And Mingzhu Wolf,” adds Skye, giving everyone a shit-eating grin.

“Amaze,” Darcy grins. “Now, as far as badasses go, can we all just take a moment to appreciate Steve-Bucky-Natasha-Sam-Sharon? Because, as their certificates prove, Holy Shit I Have Never Seen Anything This Badass You Guys.”

“Erhhh,” Steve declares, trying not to laugh.

Bucky grins bashfully. “Thanks.”

“We live to please,” says Natasha breezily.

“And it’s good to know hauling this around served some purpose,” Sharon adds, waving to her fake belly.

Sam leans down to kiss said fake belly. “You look cute as hell.”

“Ew,” Bobbi calls out helpfully, grinning.

“To the fiercest ladies to sail the seven seas or whatever, our old-timey lesbian pirates, I award Most Intimidatingly Hot Couple,” Darcy chuckles, waiting to see how this is reacted to.

“Good grief,” Victoria says, but she’s smiling a little bit in spite of herself.

“Hell yeah we are.” Isabelle’s basically strutting up to Darcy.

“You’re vain,” Victoria murmurs in a low voice.

“You’ve seen us, right? We deserve this. Also, you’re one to talk,” replies Isabelle playfully.

“Ew,” Bobbi repeats cheerfully.

“Most Intentionally Kinky is awarded to our fucking badass Harley and Ivy,” Darcy continues, nodding respectfully as Lorelei and Raina approach (Lorelei using one of her spare vines. wrapped around Raina’s wrist, to casually lead her; Raina grinning).

“We do what we can,” Raina croons, and she blows the audience a kiss.

“And conversely, Most Accidentally Kinky goes to Maria, the hottie Wonder Woman of the evening,” Darcy adds, smirking.

Maria snorts. “I’m honored, I think,” she says as she steps forward.

“You should be,” Darcy declares. “Most Intimidatingly Hot Single, in turn, goes to Sif, Warrior Princess.”

“Oh!” Sif looks a bit surprised, as if she’s forgotten what she was wearing, and she grins and practically skips up to get her award. Melinda’s eyes follow her and she’s smiling (bigger than usual, because the aging makeup on her face obscures it a bit).

“Cursory general note of awe because there is so much gorgeous in this room,” Darcy says as a sidebar, handing Sif her certificate. “Our next award is for new Laura, who as sexy Ms. Frizzle is receiving Best I Have The Weirdest Boner.”

Clint’s eyes widen and he gulps.

“Why, thank you,” Laura chirps, practically skipping to grab the award and then going back to her seat by way of the bar.

“To Nurse Claire, I award Contextually Best Sexy Reimagining,” Darcy continues, grinning.

“Glad someone else got a kick out of it too,” says Claire, smirking.

‘Take note, boys,” Darcy says. “If you’re going to dress up as your job, at least be sarcastic.”

Coulson and Quill are wearing nearly identical pouts.

“Most Twee Sexy Reimagining, in turn, goes to Princess Linnea,” Darcy announces.

“Many thanks,” Linnea coos, taking her certificate.

“Best Classic Sexy Reimagining is for Karen in Wonderland,” Darcy says.

Karen bounces up and gives a curtsy. “You’re sweet,” she tells Darcy.

Darcy, in turn, shrugs. “I’m also enjoying this opportunity to appreciate all my hot friends,” she says. “Most Pointlessly Sexy goes to Christine, who somehow found a sexy Hostess cupcake costume and that of itself is impressive.”

Christine shrugs and grins. “I have been complimented on my hostess skills,” she says lightly.

That makes Tony huff and cross his arms, also starting to pout.

“Well, this is funny,” Darcy muses. “Sexiest Reimagining goes to Goth Cinderella Rogue, of course.”

“Aw, shucks.” Rogue puts her hand to her heart. “You’re sweet.” When she goes to take the certificate, she can’t help but give Darcy a quick kiss.

“You too,” Darcy giggles. “Most Hardcore Reimagining is for punk Rapunzel Wanda.”

“Oh! Thank you,” says Wanda, a bit nervously. She fiddles with the long blonde braid that’s draped over her shoulder as she walks over.

“It’s kickass,” Darcy assures her, handing over the certificate. “Most Covertly Badass is for Miss Veronica Sawyer-Maya.” Maya doesn’t actually bother saying anything, she just walks up, salutes, and grabs her prize, but it seems appropriate. “And Most Dashing is for Hope, who incidentally I haven’t spoken to before this but I now really want to.”

Hope laughs out loud. “Well, at least you’re up front about it,” she says.

“Miss Audrey the Good Witch gets Pretty Prettiest Princess,” Darcy says. “And also an unofficial commendation for being able to stand wearing a dress that heavy all night.”

“Practice, I guess,” Audrey says cheerfully.

“And Heimdall…” Darcy snickers to herself. “As Oscar the Grouch, he gets the award for Best Unintentional Metacommentary on Benioff and Weiss.”

Hannah bursts out laughing.

Heimdall laughs as well. “Interesting point. I had not considered it, myself, but I enjoy that interpretation.”

“Glad to help,” Darcy grins. “Best Film Replica goes to MJ.”

“Some of us are missing something,” Loki calls out.

MJ sighs and adjusts her bridal veil. “The ex-wife from _Mean Girls_ ,” she explains, having to enunciate carefully around the fake teeth.

“Take it easy on him, he wouldn’t have seen something so mainstream,” Darcy says slyly. “Most Personally Appropriate goes to Pietro the… cheetah.”

Pietro grins and bounces up to take the paper. “I couldn’t resist,” he says.

“You so rarely can,” replies Wanda fondly.

“On a similar note, Akela the dragon gets Best Representation Of Your Patronus,” Darcy adds.

Akela chuckles. “Not quite was I was going for, but acceptable.”

“Whatever it is, it’s kickass,” Darcy promises. “Hogun the specific dragon gets Most Nostalgic.”

Hogun smiles. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Darcy grins. “Both of you did amazing work putting these together and I applaud your patience wearing them. And that second thing also applies to our night’s Best Meme, Helen!”

“I could not very well resist,” Helen giggles, coming to take her award and dancing a bit.

“Precious,” says Darcy. “Sweet Ian, for being criminally underrated Neville Longbottom, gets Most Adorkable Badass.”

“The words to get to any man’s heart,” Ian teases, kissing her cheek.

Wryly, Darcy continues, “Farmer Clint gets Most Apparently Wish-Fulfilling.”

Clint chuckles and replies, “Nothin’ wrong with wish fulfillment.”

“True, although I hope that’s not the case with some of our costumes, mine included,” Darcy quips. “Most Awesome Dad, of course, goes to Mike, whose child, I assume, was dressed as Finn the Human?”

“You bet!” Mike smiles as he accepts the award. “That was his idea, but when I offered to be Jake you should’ve seen his face.”

“I bet it was charming,” Carina calls out. Mike nods and smiles in her direction.

“On the flip side of that, Drax gets Most Terrifying (Good Job),” Darcy announces.

Drax looks pleased. “I am glad I have managed to convey the frightful nature of this character,” he says cheerfully. “I do not understand why the film is marketed towards children, who are often more easily frightened than adults.”

“Yeah, that,” Darcy giggles. “I admit I’m… not quite sure what really fancy witch Melinda is dressed as but it looks incredible, so, Most Effort, which I mean sincerely and not snidely.”

“Thank you,” says Melinda, looking pleased with herself.

“Adorable flapper Pepper gets Classiest, because of course,” Darcy says.

“Much obliged,” Pepper drawls, tossing her necklace back dramatically as she takes her prize.

“Irani took off, too, I see, but she gets Most Imposing,” Darcy declares.

“Yeah, I’ll grab that for her,” Karen promises. “I’m gonna frame it ‘cause she didn’t tell me she’d get mad if I did.” She and Kara giggle.

“Well, that’s adorable,” Darcy says. “And finally, for Vanessa apparently aka Yvonne Clifford, I award the prize for Best Long Con.”

Vanessa smirks as she comes to pick up her certificate, and Tony makes a confused noise. “I don’t get it.”

Audrey opens her mouth to explain, but Pepper just chuckles. “Let him figure it out himself,” she murmurs.

“And! Before I let the bacchanalia resume,” Darcy exclaims, “I have some stupid hats for the winners of the summer’s Coke game. Pietro, you get first place, you get to come choose first.” She motions to a selection of hats all purchased at her place of business and therefore entertainment-themed.

“I like this one!” says Pietro, immediately picking up the Cat in the Hat replica hat and plopping it on his head. “It makes sense too, because tonight I am a cat, of sorts.”

“Skye, surprising no one, takes second place,” Darcy says.

“Really? Cool!” Skye looks at the remaining two hats - a Sheriff Woody hat and a baseball cap with Winnie the Pooh on it - for a long moment before grabbing the Woody hat. “Reach for the sky!” she says, pointing finger-guns at Jemma.

“Dear god,” Jemma laughs. “Did you choose it solely because it says a euphemism on it?”

“No!” Skye looks mildly offended. “I mean...not entirely.” She grins.

Darcy snickers. “So that means that Pooh Bear is for our third-place winner, Drax!”

“I like Pooh Bear!” Drax says. “He says exactly what he means and he likes honey. I also like honey. I think we would be friends.”

“And if that isn’t the cutest mental image I’ve ever had,” Darcy declares. “Anyway! Thank you for indulging! Great crowd, whatever, whatever.”

 

* * *

 

“Mike?”

Mike, who’s wandered over to the refreshments table, swallows the bite of cookie he had in his mouth before turning around. “Oh hey, Carina, Nebula! What’s up?”

“I, ah, I was thinking we could… pictures?” Carina suggests shyly.

“Sure!” Mike grins. “How do you want me posed?”

Carina shrugs. “How...ever you want?”

Nebula throws an arm over Carina’s shoulder. “Come stand on the other side of me,” she grunts. “Gamora! Come take a picture!”

Gamora rolls her eyes, but she comes over, pulling out her phone. “I’ll take a couple and text them to you guys,” she says, calling up her camera and snapping some photos.

“Thank you, Gamora,” Carina calls.

“You’re welcome,” Gamora says, and it’s clear she’s trying not to smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” Nebula gives her sister the faintest of smiles.

“Best coincidence,” Carina declares brightly. “Tell Ace if he ever wants to take pictures with some silly grown-ups, we’re game.”

“Will do!” says Mike, smiling. “He loves Bubblegum and Marceline, I bet he’d be thrilled.”

“Good!” Carina chirps. “We’ll borrow Rogue’s guitar or something. And I bet Jemma would let me borrow some of her science… things.”

Nebula sighs. “Whatever. If it’s quick.”

“I never thought I’d hear you agree to do anything somebody told you to do,” Gamora quips.

“Fuck off,” Nebula replies, but it’s half-hearted.

Mike snickers.

 

* * *

 

“C’mon, do me up,” Raina whispers in Lorelei’s ear. They’re sitting on one of a couple of chaise longues in a far corner of the room, drinking and being smug.

Lorelei rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You know these are actually pretty flimsy.”

“Principle of the thing,” Raina shrugs. “Besides. We might as well give them what they want.”

“You’re almost insufferably giddy about being raunchy sometimes.” But as requested, Lorelei scoots around to wrap fake vines around both of Raina’s wrists, then nips at Raina’s neck.

“Thank you,” Raina hums cheerfully.

They’re repositioned and properly making out like this for a while before Wanda strolls over, looking interested. “Is that normal?” she asks, nodding at Raina’s wrists.

“More normal than you think,” Raina shrugs, leaning against Lorelei’s shoulder with an almost drowsy smile.

“Interesting. Why?”

All at once, Raina says “Safety” and Lorelei says “Control” and they look at each other and start giggling. “It’s fun not having to worry about things sometimes,” Raina finally declares.

“And being responsible for how someone feels to this degree is a head trip,” Lorelei adds, though she doesn’t bother to explain the difference between how she tops Raina and how she tops literally every man.

Wanda’s nodding slowly, like she’s thinking about it. “I see. That makes sense, yes.”

“Obviously you have to be careful who you go down this road with,” Raina explains, “otherwise you end up dealing with some Christian Grey motherfucking asshole -”

“But that cautionary tale has been well-spread by now,” Lorelei finishes, petting Raina’s hair.

Laughing, Wanda replies, “Yes, I tried to watch that once. Pietro laughed at me, but I thought it might be interesting. It was not. Neither of them seemed to be enjoying themselves.”

“When you play that unsafely, of course it’s not enjoyable,” Lorelei snarks. “And, as we have all learned, that same sort of asshole _does_ exist.”

“But that’s why it’s even better when you find a more pleasant kind of asshole to play with,” Raina grins. “Not a literal asshole. Unless that’s your thing. It’s not mine, but I’m sure this isn’t for everyone either.” She vaguely nods toward the vines.

Wanda shrugs. “I have learned that people enjoy a variety of things, not all of which seem appealing to me. But I’m trying to understand them anyway.”

Raina nods, and after she and Lorelei exchange a smirk, she asks, “Wanna try understanding this?”

“Oh!” Wanda blinks. “Yes, I think I would.”

“Come sit,” Lorelei offers, patting the space beside her. “I’ll just do your wrists like Raina’s are right now, keep it simple for your first time.”

“Alright.” Wanda carefully steps over to sit next to Lorelei and holds out her wrists.

“Want in front or behind?” Lorelei asks.

“Hm. Behind, I think,” says Wanda, after some consideration.

“All right,” Lorelei says, reaching for Wanda’s wrists and crossing them loosely before she starts wrapping another of her vines around them. “Safeword?”

Wanda thinks for another moment and then says “Pumpkin.”

“Pumpkin it is,” Lorelei nods. “I assume you’d rather hold off on the kissing bit for now.”

“I think so,” replies Wanda. “Maybe another time?”

“Whatever you want,” Raina says, smiling. “We can just sit around. That’s fun too. I think the party is mostly mellowing out.”

“Suits me,” Lorelei shrugs.

Wanda glances around the room and, as her gaze lands on Coulson, comments, “He seems to be watching Audrey quite a lot.” Sure enough, Coulson is sipping on a beer and gazing mournfully over at Audrey, who’s totally oblivious and giggling about something with Bobbi.

“That’s a new development,” Lorelei muses. “She seems a little more…”

“Vanilla,” Raina interjects wryly.

“A little more vanilla than his last known interest,” Lorelei concludes.

Wanda giggles. “Well, as I said, people can have varying interests. Perhaps he wants someone who cannot possibly remind him of Melinda.”

“Success,” Raina chuckles. “Still can’t see it going anywhere, but some men enjoy futility.”

“Clearly, if he’s been courting Melinda while _that’s_ going on under his nose,” Lorelei murmurs, nodding toward Melinda and Sif with a raised eyebrow. They’re flirting and none too subtly, which actually makes Lorelei smile.

“Yes,” says Wanda, tilting her head. “Is it wrong to eavesdrop?”

“Maybe, but sometimes it’s unavoidable,” Raina coos.

“Nice detailing,” Melinda’s saying. “How’d you do it?”

Sif ducks her head and smiles. “Clay, mostly. It was a pain in the ass, but it turned out well.”

“Very well,” replies Melinda, nodding. “You look wonderful.”

“Th-thanks. You do too,” stammers Sif. “I doubt most people get the reference, but I do. Have you read _The Shepherd’s Crown_ yet?”

“Haven’t gotten around to it,” Melinda replies. “I will eventually. I hear it’s not as good, just like the last few adult ones, but I want to read it anyway.”

“It wasn’t as good,” Sif confesses, “but I still cried at the end. And when Granny...oh, I shouldn’t spoil, I’m sorry.”

Melinda snorts affectionately. “Not like I didn’t see it coming. Did she go out well?”

“She did,” Sif says, choking up a bit on the last word. “You, the cat, starts following Tiffany around.”

“Makes sense.” Melinda nods.

“Perhaps next year I’ll do Tiffany,” muses Sif. “Though I won’t look as good as you do. You’d look good in anything.”

“Please, so would you,” Melinda replies with a smirk, taking a small step closer to Sif. Before, they’d been about a foot and a half from each other; now they’re close enough that Sif gulps.

“I...I think you’d look good out of anything too.” Sif immediately turns bright red and covers her face with a hand. “Oh my god, I’ve had too much to drink, I’m so sorry, I’ll just…”

“Hey.” Melinda reaches out to gently pull down Sif’s hand. “I’ve been waiting to do this.” Then she leans forward and kisses Sif on the lips.

“Took them long enough,” Lorelei whispers, smirking.


	66. the one where we were laughing and drunk on just being there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of Tony's Halloween party; as the party winds down, pizza is ordered and a variety of relationships develop in different ways.

Maria’s staring at Melinda and Sif kissing, her mouth open just a bit.

“Shit,” Maya whispers, tentatively reaching a hand out to pat Maria’s shoulder.

“I…” Maria’s voice comes out ragged. “I…I need a minute, I’ll be right back.” She grabs her drink and steps away from Maya, toward the doorway.

“Shit,” Maya says more clearly, before she can stop herself adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” says Maria. “You’re fine. I just...need…”

“Space,” Maya finishes. “Look, can I… get you anything?”

“Another drink when I get back?” Maria offers Maya a faint, wobbly smile.

“Yeah,” Maya says. “Another drink. I promise.”

Maria nods. “Thanks. I’ll...be back soon.” She heads for the exit, ducking her head.

“Hey,” Pepper says softly, appearing behind Maya with a shotglass and a bottle of tequila. “You okay?”

“I have no idea,” Maya admits. “Gimme the booze.”

Meanwhile, Coulson has managed to stop making eyes at Audrey long enough to see the kiss. He too looks upset. “Oh,” he murmurs. “I see.”

“Fuck ‘em,” says Lance almost cheerfully. “Ain’t worth it, women. Just cause drama and bullshit. Let’s get more drinks, mate.”

Coulson nods and follows him towards the bar.

“You’re not being stared at anymore,” Bobbi whispers to Audrey, and then she turns to see why. Attention clearly diverted by… “ _Nice_.”

“Thank christ,” says Natasha, grinning. “I thought they’d never get there.”

“I hope it works out for them,” Audrey declares. “She seems nice. They both seem nice.”

“Well, they’re badass enough for each other,” Sharon smiles.

Jemma glances up from the corner that she’s diligently storing pieces of cardboard suit in as she removes them and gasps, grinning. “Skye, Skye, look,” she hisses.

Skye looks, then yelps and jumps up and down in excitement. “Fuck yes! Get some, Melinda May!”

“You changed your bet, didn’t you?” Jemma smirks.

“Duh, of course! I mean, the more I thought about it the less sense it made for her to pick Coulson,” says Skye. “He’s too, y’know. Needy.”

Jemma snickers. “And anyway, Sif is much more aesthetically pleasing.”

“Damn right,” Skye nods.

Sif and Melinda have finally stopped kissing and, after a quiet exchange that no one else can hear, Sif shyly takes Melinda’s hand and leads her toward where Thor and the others are chatting. “Congratulations!” Thor calls as they come up. “I’m delighted for the both of you.”

“If you had taken any longer, Sif, I might have had a go at her myself,” teases Fandral, only yelping a little when Sif smacks him on the arm.

Melinda rolls her eyes and smirks. “No you wouldn’t.”

Darcy grins and offers, “Congratulations!” but there’s a distance to her tone, like she’s thinking about something else.

“Oh, no,” Jane mutters. “Darcy, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Darcy asks innocently.

“It involves money, doesn’t it.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re unbelievable.” That tended to, Jane turns to the rest of the bunch and says, “We really don’t need to gossip like teenagers. But,” and now she’s addressing Sif and Melinda, “Good going, you guys.”

“Thank you.” Sif smiles and ducks her head.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” murmurs Clint, having drunk at least three drinks in the past half hour. “You wanna see something cool?”

“Maybe,” Laura replies, singsonging the words because she’s had at least two drinks of her own.

“Okay. You ever been on a chandelier?”

“A chandelier?”

“Yeah. Y’know.” He gestures toward the entryway and its ridiculous chandelier. “You wanna climb it? ‘s pretty fun.”

Laura coughs. “Climb it? Isn’t that a terrible idea?”

“Nah, we’ll be fine. I’ve done it a hundred times.” Clint holds out his hand. “D’you trust me?”

“Yes but also no?” she squeaks.

“‘s gonna be great,” he insists, tugging her towards the chandelier.

Natasha, who’s been trying to ignore Clint and his lovestruck puppy routine, can’t help but laugh at this. Maybe some of it is the booze, but most of it is because she can’t fucking _believe_ this.

“How do you even get up there?” Laura asks, a bit louder than she expects to.

Clint shrugs and heads for one of the bookshelves lining the wall. “I can jump off this,” he says, starting to scale it.

Laura’s jaw drops.

“He’ll get over it,” Bobbi declares, appearing behind Laura with a smirk. “Promise.”

“Over this idea or over the bookshelf?” Laura exclaims, vaguely horrified.

Bobbi doesn’t answer.

Clint, meanwhile, has managed to scale said bookshelf and then lunges for the chandelier. Somehow, he manages to haul himself onto it without either bringing it crashing down or tipping himself off, and once he’s relatively stable he gives Laura a thumbs-up. “Now you!” he calls. “I can swing it over t’you if you get on the bookshelf.”

“I shouldn’t,” Laura yelps. “I’m… heels. Oh, god.”

“Hey,” Pepper shouts, coming over. “Hey, Clint, how about you get down from there?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that chandelier is not meant to support the weight of a full-grown man,” she sighs. “Come on. It’ll be nicer down here.”

“‘s nice up here,” he replies.

“Come down and I’ll get you… juice?” Laura offers, because she can recognize that there should be no more alcohol for him tonight.

Clint pauses, head tilted like a dog. “Juice ‘s nice.”

“Plenty of juice,” Laura urges. “And snacks.”

“Hey Pep,” Tony chimes in. “What say you order us some pizza?”

“Pizza sounds like a wonderful idea,” Pepper says, in a voice that sounds like she’s jollying a child. “Hey, Clint, what kind of pizza do you like?”

“Everything pizza.”

“He means pizza with a million toppings,” chimes in Natasha. “Pretty much anything you can get.”

“How much pizza should I order? Since I’m assuming we’ll need other options for those of us with more minimalist pizza taste,” Pepper says to Tony.

Tony shrugs. “I dunno, thirty, forty? Should be plenty to feed this crowd.”

“I’m going to have to call a dozen different pizza places,” she sighs.

“Well, I’m buying, so…”

“You have to help,” she retorts.

“Fine. Rhodey, come help,” he calls.

Kara notices that Rhodey is being summoned before he does, and she nudges him, although her expression is hesitant. “I think you’re needed,” she says softly.

“I mean, I can tell him to fuck off if you want,” replies Rhodey.

“It’s fine,” Kara shrugs. “I mean… I’ll be okay for a little while. I’ll work it out. You go.”

“Okay.” Rhodey grabs her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze before he walks away.

She smiles, if faintly, and immediately turns her attention to her empty glass so she doesn’t look desperately needy. Because she’s trying really hard not to be desperately needy. She’s just a little bit adrift. She’s not exactly sure where Karen and the boys and everyone disappeared to but she’s a little bit afraid of getting lost in this house if she tries to find out. Steve and his bowed out a few minutes ago, with variations of the same tired smile. A lot of the room still seems focused on Melinda and Sif, which is reasonable, because that’s awesome. She’s not quite sure what to say to them about it, but she’s glad.

She shrugs and heads for the bar. Maybe she’ll ask whoever’s nearest what sounds like a good drink to them.

This seems like a terrifying plan when she gets there and sees Raina. Raina is someone she’s seen, she’s heard all about, but she’s never actually spoken to, so instead of asking about alcohol, she just says, “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Raina replies, the corner of her mouth twisting up like she knows a secret. “Good on you for actually painting your stitches on and not just wearing tights.”

Kara blinks. That isn’t the kind of thing she expected someone else, much less someone else with Raina’s history and interests, to notice. “Thanks,” she says. “I like your corset.”

“Thanks,” Raina says. Being perfectly honest, she hadn’t intended to seek Kara out soon or ever - she is not, in her own opinion, the kind of acquaintance a girl like that needs - but she’s not going to be rude. She’s not going to be callous. Contrary to what some people may believe, she doesn’t do that without reason.

“I told myself I was going to ask whoever was closest for a drink recommendation,” Kara says before she can stop herself. “Do you have one?”

“Give me a minute,” Raina murmurs, making a face as she considers this.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Raina doesn’t stare at the alcohol, though, she starts staring at Kara, so intently it’s like she’s drawing her with her eyes. “I think you’re a whiskey girl.”

“I might be,” Kara shrugs. “I’m still figuring it out.”

“Cinnamon whiskey,” Raina declares, going behind the bar to find such a thing. “Take a shot and make sure you like it.”

Kara nods and pours herself said shot, knocking it back. “That tastes really strong,” she says. “In a nice way.”

“Good.” From what Raina has learned, that’s a decent description of Kara herself, so it suits.

“Hey,” Kara blurts out, “before you finish…” _Do you have any words of advice_ , maybe. _Do you have any opinions worth sharing_ , or maybe _do you want to talk about life because you clearly have an interesting point of view on it._ What comes out is, “Can I kiss you?”

Mortifying, but she’s had a little already and she’s not going to back out now. Raina is a little bit scary, but in a way that’s honestly appealing. Kissing her is an impulse. She’s trying to listen to those more.

Raina’s eyebrow goes up. “I’d be all right with that,” she says. “As long as I get to kiss you back.”

Kara smiles, tells the voice in her mind to sit down and be quiet, and goes for it. “Thanks,” she repeats. “Been a while since I wanted…”

“Yeah.” Because Raina gets that, she does. And she gets the logic of being a desirable option in this case. She pulls Kara closer, but she lets Kara be the one to guide the kiss.

They’ve been making out for a few minutes when Carina glances up and happens to notice. “Uh, Lorelei?” she says timidly.

Lorelei follows Carina’s gaze and shrugs. “What’s a kiss between friends?”

Carina doesn’t know a lot about heavy petting, but she knows enough. “That’s not _just_ a kiss,” she mumbles.

Lorelei grins. “Looks like it to me. Do you want one too?”

“No, thank you!” Carina squeaks.

Heimdall has been watching as well, with a small smile on his face.

Clint’s knocking back a glass of juice, and when he notices he gulps loudly. “Um.”

“What’s wrong?” Laura asks, wrinkling her nose.

“She’s scary,” says Clint, waving his hand in Raina’s direction. “Don’ make friends with her, okay?”

Laura tilts her head. As far as she’s concerned, Raina just looks like a girl kissing another girl at a costume party. Nothing scary about that. “I don’t see what the problem is,” she says, smiling. “I think you’re a little fuzzy-headed.”

Clint shrugs. “I mean, yeah, but. She’s scary. She’s probably a ghost.”

“She doesn’t look like a ghost,” Laura frowns. “She’s clearly, y’know, making tangible contact.”

“Sometimes ghosts are sneaky like that.”

“You’re pretty goofy,” she declares.

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty...pretty,” he slurs.

Of course, Bobbi is near enough to have overheard this entire conversation, but she’s not going to be an ass about it. She just smirks to herself. And then her attention shifts back to Kara and Raina, who both make no sense at all and make a lot of sense, at least for a random makeout session at Tony Stark’s house. She’s also glad that Tony happens to be busy preparing for the onslaught of pizza, because otherwise she might be called on to defend Kara’s honor or something. She doesn’t know. It just seems like a fair bet.

 

* * *

 

“I think perhaps I could fit four slices in my mouth at once!” announces Drax.

“Oh, my friend, that is truly impressive,” replies Thor with a grin. “However, I must inform you that I can fit _five_ in mine.”

Drax is already stuffing pizza into his mouth. “Let us duel!” he says, around the half-chewed chunks.

“Why are guys so gross sometimes?” Jane asks Helen, rolling her eyes.

Helen shrugs cheerfully. “I think just because they can be.”

“Hey,” Victoria says, tapping Bobbi’s shoulder as Bobbi grabs herself a beer. “We’re heading out. Figured I should tell someone in case anyone starts looking for us.”

Bobbi grins. “Going back to your apartment? Your _shared_ apartment?”

“Well, yes,” says Isabelle, tossing her head. “You knew about that.”

“I know I knew,” Bobbi chuckles. “I just really like pointing it out.” She opens her beer. “You know, I bet I could make some amazing puns with your last names right now, but that would involve too much thinking. You just go on home and have a lot of hygienic pirate sex.”

“You’re sort of drunk,” Victoria observes, to which Bobbi shrugs blithely.

Victoria and Isabelle aren’t the first ones to have gone home, of course. Mike called it an early night for his kid’s sake, Mack and Bruce had left long before (Mack chuckling “find your own way home, Bob”), and Melinda and Sif, surprising no one, left in each other’s company.

Loki is drunkenly rambling, apparently about anything that enters his line of sight. At the moment, it’s Fandral’s costume. “I don’t understand it,” he slurs. “I do not understand the appeal of parading oneself about like a piece of meat. As if advertising one’s sexual attractiveness were more impressive than a well-put-together elaborate costume. He, he’s barely wearing anything! It’s absurd.”

“Dude,” Darcy groans. “Don’t be the Halloween kinkshamer.”

Loki scoffs. “Please. I’m not saying anything we aren’t all thinking.”

“Do not make me come over there and sting you.”

Foggy, having long ago passed out on a couch, is snoring loudly.

“I almost don’t wanna disturb him,” Karen whispers.

“Well, we were thinking of leaving,” says Matt, and Claire nods.

Karen nods too, in understanding, and very gently she nudges Foggy’s shoulder. “Hey, bear,” she murmurs.

He grunts and rolls over, not opening his eyes.

“Matt and Claire are headin’ out,” she says. “Wake up and say good night.”

He cracks one eye open and whines, “Don’ go.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Matt promises. “Gotta go, you know. Hell, you can _see_ Claire, you understand.”

Foggy snorts. “ _Fine,_ leave me all aloooooone.”

“I’m still here!” Karen exclaims, affronted.

“Hug me?” Foggy asks, pouting.

“Which one of us?” Karen asks.

“You, since he’s leaving.”

She chuckles and comes to sit next to him, wrapping arms around him and holding him tight. “You’re a very silly bear,” she declares.

He sighs and sort of melts into her. “Thanks. Bye Matt, have fun gettin’ busy.”

Matt snorts. “Later, Foggy.”

“Make good choices,” Karen chirps.

“We will,” snickers Claire, tugging Matt towards the exit.

As Claire and Matt leave, Matt overhears a pair of giggling women passing them. He doesn’t make a _habit_ of eavesdropping on people, nor of, well, smelling them, but he definitely catches a telltale scent as they go by.

“They definitely just had sex,” he murmurs to Claire.

“Oh?” she asks, sounding intrigued.

“I don’t recognize their voices, but yes.”

“Well, here’s hoping we have as good a time as they did,” teases Claire.

“Hoping? I’m hurt,” Matt replies with a grin.

Once they’re inside the pool room again, headed toward the bar, Vanessa turns to watch the pair they passed, smirking. “Do you know them?” she asks.

“No, I don’t recognize them,” replies Christine. “Why?”

“I think we’re the subject of gossip,” Vanessa drawls.

Christine snorts. “That’ll happen around here.”

“Goody.”

Glancing around, Christine’s gaze lands on Tony, who’s sitting at a barstool doing the same. Their eyes meet and Christine sees Tony sizing her up, then his eyes flick over to Vanessa and widen. Christine smirks and Tony whips his head away so fast that he almost tips his stool over.

“Oh, my,” Vanessa murmurs.

“He and I had something for a little while,” explains Christine. “Not the worst lay I’ve ever had, but his ego made it difficult to get too involved. Which I was fine with, really.”

“That does make sense,” Vanessa says. “He seems to have that way about him.”

“Yes, but I like ego better on pretty women.” Christine reaches over to run her hand down Vanessa’s arm.

Which Vanessa takes as a cue to lean in and kiss Christine hungrily, observers be damned. “Very sweet,” she hums.

Christine moans a little as Vanessa pulls back. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “I’d like to be, for you.”

Across the room, Lance notices this, and his eyes go wide. “Christ,” he mutters. “Everybody’s getting laid but us!”

Coulson follows his gaze. “Oh my.”

 

* * *

 

“It figures he’d decide to pass out on the girl wearing bedsheets,” Gamora sighs.

The “he” she’s referring to is Quill, who’s cuddled up to her and blacked out, some drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Laura stares from the chair she’s currently occupying with Cessily. “Someone should roll him over,” she points out. “If he vomits in this position, he may choke on it.”

Somewhat ineffectually, Gamora nudges him. “Hey, asshole,” she says, and it actually sounds like it’s meant with some semblance of affection. Maybe.

“He’s not going to move,” she sighs.

“You should try it,” Laura suggests, turning to Drax.

“Of course!” he says. “I would not want to make you get up. That would be unkind, as you are currently entangled.”

“Yes.” Laura puts her head on Cessily’s shoulder, who reaches down to stroke her hair. “Thank you.”

Drax reaches down and, with considerably less effort, rolls Quill onto his back.

“Do you think I could get up?” Gamora asks, sounding extremely put upon.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Drax hauls Quill up enough that Gamora can slide out from underneath him.

“Next time someone else gets to be the pillow,” she sighs. “It’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Not it,” grunts Nebula from where she’s cuddled up to Carina.

“We’re already pillows,” Carina adds cheerfully.

“I am not a pillow,” Drax says. “And you said you’re wearing bedsheets, Gamora. That would make you a bed, yes?”

“I’m a goddess,” Gamora mutters.

Laura tilts her head. “A goddess of what?”

Gamora wrinkles her nose, fishing around for an answer, but before she says anything Kara swoops in and explains, “Aidos, daughter of Prometheus and companion of Nemesis, was the Greek goddess of modesty and humility. So making her costume out of a sheet is actually incredibly clever.”

“Thank you,” Gamora mouths.

“Interesting,” says Laura. “Thank you for explaining.”

“Prometheus is a Titan, right?” Nebula asks.

“He is,” Kara confirms.

“How… do you know that?” Gamora asks, because it’s not like her sister is one for classical literature.

Nebula shrugs. “GED, bitch.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Gamora mutters.

“Yeah, so?”

Gamora shrugs. “Just pointing it out.”

Rhodey wanders over, holding two plates with slices of pizza on them. “Hey,” he says. “You good to head out?”

“Yeah,” Kara agrees. “I’m kind of worn out. Have a good night, you guys.” That last is directed at the group.

“You too,” Carina chirps. “You guys look so charming.”

“Yeah,” mutters Nebula. “I like your scars.”

Kara ducks her head, grinning. “Thank you,” she says.

“Don’t let us keep you,” Gamora calls, smiling surprisingly sweetly.

Rhodey chuckles. “We won’t. Night, y’all.”

As they’re leaving, Quill wakes up, at least enough to see them leaving together. “Wha’?” he murmurs. “‘s weird.”

“Well, he’s not an asshole,” Carina shrugs.

Pietro runs by, doing laps of the room (the house, really) while wearing his Cat in the Hat hat. Wanda sighs and rolls her eyes fondly, going to chase after him (moving much slower). Pietro keeps moving until he spots Maria heading towards Maya, and slows down in order to eavesdrop.

“Keep going,” says Wanda, gently nudging him.

“Why?” he asks. “This is interesting.”

“Not for you,” she chides. “Keep going.”

He sighs and starts jogging again. “Fine.”

Maria stops next to Maya, who’s perched on the edge of a chair, and sighs. “Don’t suppose you’re still up for that drink.”

Maya honestly looks startled when she replies. “I wouldn’t be opposed,” she manages to say.

“You want me to get it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Maya says. “Sure.”

Maria returns a moment later and hands Maya her beer, taking a long drink of her own. Then she plops down next to Maya and whimpers.

“Hey,” Maya says, frowning. “You okay?” She sighs. “I mean, no, you’re not, but… lemme start over. Can I help you feel better?”

“Dunno,” mutters Maria. “This sucks. I’m a grown-ass woman, I shouldn’t be moping like a lovesick teenager. Ridiculous.”

Maya gulps. “You’re disappointed,” she manages. “That’s plenty normal.”

“I guess.” Maria shrugs. “I haven’t had to deal with this shit in a while. Not used to it.”

“Well, for what it’s worth I don’t think you should have to,” Maya murmurs, and then immediately shuts herself up with a drink before she says anything more suspicious than that.

“You’re sweet.” Maria gives her a wobbly smile. “You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. I’m just a sad old lady, don’t let me ruin your night.”

“You’re not old,” Maya says immediately. “And you’re not ruining anything. I promise.”

Sighing, Maria shakes her head. “You’re too nice to me, Hansen.”

“We’re friends,” Maya near-whispers, sounding like she’s choking on the words. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Well, you’re good at this friends thing,” Maria replies. “I never have been. But I appreciate it.”

“I think you’re good at it,” Maya shrugs.

“Thanks.” Maria reaches over to put her hand on Maya’s knee.

Maya takes a breath, praying Maria doesn’t notice how sharp it sounds. “Anyway, I think that… _that_ aside, it’s been an okay night,” she offers.

Maria laughs, a little shakily. “I’ve had a good time with you,” she says. “And Fury, bizarre as that was.”

“See, that’s a good story!” Maya exclaims. “Nothing like seeing your boss…”

“...coming to heel for the only person in the mall who could maybe tell him what to do?” That makes Maria grin, for real. “I know he’s probably _had_ relationships before, but hell if he’s told me. I’ve never even been inside his house. I’ve only been _to_ it like twice.”

“That’s twice more than anyone else, I bet,” Maya says.

“Fair point.” Maria takes another drink. “And you actually did the costume.”

“Yeah,” Maya murmurs. “I mean, it… it wasn’t that difficult. It seemed fun.”

Nodding, Maria says, “It suits you.”

“Tha...anks,” Maya stammers. “I. Thanks. Yours is, uh.” _A lot of complimentary things that would just make me sound like a pervert to say._ “Really good.”

Maria snorts. “I can hear what you’re not saying. I should probably be curvier, but, well, can’t really do anything about that.”

“I mean, you could,” Maya shrugs. “But I don’t think you should. You’re… yeah. Just like you are. Is good.”

“You’re doing that thing where you speak in choppy half-sentences,” teases Maria. “Which probably means you actually mean what you’re saying.”

“Yeah,” says Maya. “I do. I don’t think you need to change a damn thing about yourself.”

Making a soft noise in her throat, Maria puts her head on Maya’s shoulder. It’s almost unconscious. “You’re sweet.”

“I mean it,” Maya declares, just in case Maria is feeling volatile enough to need the extra reminder.

 

* * *

 

“‘s our anniversary!” Fitz slurs, suddenly sitting straight up from where he’s cuddling into Trip.

“Oh hey, it is,” says Trip, running a hand through Fitz’s hair. “I forgot. But I’m kinda surprised _you_ did too.”

Fitz shrugs half-heartedly. “Been busy, I guess. I meant to do something for you, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to. I’m happy just hanging out with you.”

“No, but I...but you…” Fitz shakes his head. “You’re perfect and I just want to show you that.”

“You are too,” Trip murmurs.

“A-ni-ver-sa-ry,” Fitz chants in a Dalek-esque voice, dropping his head back onto Trip’s shoulder. “Can I come over to your place tonight?”

Trip chuckles. “Of course. I figured you’d wanna.”

“I...I do.” Fitz presses closer to him.

“I bet they’re being terribly sentimental,” Jemma whispers, and it’s clear she’s delighted.

Skye reaches for Jemma’s hand to give it a squeeze. “You’re so cute.”

“It looks more than just sentimental,” Bobbi observes, resting one hand on Skye’s shoulder and carding another through Jemma’s hair.

“What’s more than sentimental?” Jemma asks.

“I mean, Fitz has… suggestion face,” Bobbi declares.

“No he doesn’t,” Jemma says, wrinkling her nose. “That’s silly. Fitz doesn’t…”

Skye shrugs. “I mean. You said yourself, Jemma, when you did all that research, sometimes people do it because they love their partners.”

“I…” Jemma sighs and turns on her side, nuzzling her face into Bobbi’s thigh. “That may be true, but it’s right at the top of the list of things I don’t want to think about.”

“Can’t blame you there,” replies Skye. She sprawls on Bobbi’s lap.

“What will people say?” Bobbi asks softly, chuckling.

“Don’ care,” Jemma mumbles. “If they’re gonna be weird, I’m, I’m inviting ‘em to sob right off.”

Skye giggles. “You mess up a word there, honey?”

“Did I?”

“Sob off. I doubt that’s actually what you meant.” Skye reaches over to run a hand down Jemma’s side.

Jemma bursts out laughing. “Oh, god, I’m drunk,” she exclaims, like it’s somehow surprising. “I don’t think I’ve been this drunk since that wine your mum gave us. We should say hello! Do you have your phone?”

Skye pulls it out of her pocket, seeing a new picture from Lincoln. She unlocks her phone and opens it, giggling when it comes into view. “Oh my god, he went as Pikachu!”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Jemma exclaims.

“Who’s this and what’s the joke?” Bobbi asks.

“Oh, sorry. So my mom has this kid Lincoln, he’s kind of her gofur. We hung out with him for a while when we were down there, he’s cool. But he decorated my airport sign with Pokemon stickers, so I called him Pikachu.”

“Ah-huh.” Bobbi requisitions the phone. “And he took it to its logical sexy conclusion in the spirit of Halloween. I hope that’s not some horrible come-on.”

Skye snorts. “Better not be. He knows I’m super taken.”

Jemma purrs. “You sure are. Let’s send him one back so he remembers.”

“Oh, Jem, you’re feeling frisky,” Skye says with a grin.

“Dibs,” Jemma says plainly. “Bobbi, would you take the photo?”

“Of course,” Bobbi chuckles. “Probably haul yourselves out of my lap first.”

“Probably,” Jemma repeats, sitting up on her knees and waving Skye over.

And Skye goes, snapping a picture of herself kissing Jemma’s cheek in a decidedly non-platonic way, before flopping back down on Bobbi.

“There,” Jemma declares smugly. “Ask him what they’re up to tonight.”

“Yeah, I wanna know if my mom dressed up,” Skye says as she’s typing a message.

“I’m gonna call Honey and everyone,” Jemma says excitedly, getting out her own phone.

“Telephone hour,” Bobbi comments.

“Well, they’ve all heard of you, it’s not going to be strange,” Jemma shrugs cheerfully.

“They’ve heard of me?”

“Yeah, you’re the _Star Wars_ girl,” says Skye with a grin.

“Not the worst reputation,” Bobbi shrugs.

Jemma’s video chat kicks in and immediately there’s Honey, waving eagerly. “Hi!!”

“Hi!” Jemma exclaims. “I’m drunk. I want to see your costumes.”

Honey giggles and pulls Gogo over. “We’re Elle Woods and Vivian,” she explains.

“That’s incredible,” Bobbi says.

“Who’s that?” Honey asks.

“That’s Bobbi,” Jemma says.

“Y’know,” Skye chimes in, her tone slightly suggestive.

“Oh,” says Gogo with a smirk. “ _That_ Bobbi.”

Bobbi raises an eyebrow, but it’s not a tone of voice she isn’t used to hearing aimed at her.

“I hope you’re all having a nice holiday,” Jemma chirps.

Wasabi leans into frame, waving (he’s wearing a grey sock on his nose). “Mostly! Hiro tried to make a lightshow inside the pumpkins and kinda exploded them.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Hiro yelps offscreen. “Fred read the directions wrong!”

“Duuuuuude,” says Fred, who’s behind Honey and leans over so they can see him properly. “I did not.” He shrugs. “You like my costume?”

“I’m afraid I, ah, I don’t… understand?” Jemma says, looking bewildered.

“I’m Puff the Magic Dragon!” he says with a grin.

Skye snorts. “Oh my god.”

Tadashi leans into the frame, dragging Hiro by the collar. “Hey guys! Wish you were here. Except, y’know, then you’d be covered in pumpkin too.” He scowls at Hiro. Sure enough, his white labcoat and white bushy wig are speckled with orange goop.

Hiro sticks out his tongue. “At least my vest is already orange, so you can’t tell?”

“Oh my god, you guys are Doc Brown and Marty! That’s fucking adorable,” squeals Skye.

“Aw shucks, we try.” Tadashi grins.

“Cute and relevantly nostalgic,” Bobbi declares. “It totally works. I’m surprised nobody here showed up like that.”

“So where are you guys tonight, anyway?” Wasabi asks.

Skye laughs. “So you guys remember that guy from the science party that barfed everywhere and also hit on Honey super awkwardly?”

“...yeah?”

“He threw a party at his own fancy giant house, so we showed up. Free pizza and booze, how could we resist?”

“Uh huh.” Wasabi looks skeptical. “Is he barfing there too?”

“Not that we know of?” Jemma shrugs. “He’s too busy awkwardly hitting on more people and also programming his pet robot to humiliate Nazis.”

“Say what?” Gogo perks up.

“Oh, it’s a whole thing,” Jemma says cheerfully.

“We have a Nazi problem around here,” Skye adds. “I’ll fill you in later, it’s not a super fun story. Except for the part where he gets beat up like three times, that’s fun.”

“Ah huh.” Tadashi nods. “Oh, hey, something kinda cool and weird happened last week. I got a call from Disney, of all places. They were wondering if they could like...make a cartoon about Baymax or something? The guy was using a lot of technical jargon.”

“Holy shit! No way,” Skye gasps.

“That’s incredible!” Jemma exclaims.

“Baymax is your super-cool robot thing, right?” Bobbi asks.

Tadashi laughs. “Yeah. Sometime Skye and Jemma should set up a call with you so I can show you what he can do. It’s pretty neat.”

Hiro bounces up and down and adds, “He’s unbelievable! And I made sure he knows karate!”

“As any robot should,” Bobbi laughs.

In the background, Aunt Cass calls, “Spoopy ghost cookies are ready, guys!”

“Thank you!” Honey shouts. “Be there in a minute!”

“Aw man, I want spoopy ghost cookies,” teases Skye.

“I’ll get the recipe!” Honey promises.

Jemma smiles proudly. “I can bake cookies adequately now, I’ll try to do them justice.”

“I’m sure you will,” says Tadashi. “Alright, well, happy Halloween, guys. Nice to meet you, Bobbi.”

“Nice to meet you guys, too,” Bobbi says. “You go and enjoy your cookies. We’ll be here enjoying this potential shitshow in its eleventh hour.”

“Bye!” they chorus before Honey switches off the camera.

“Oh hey,” Skye says, “My mom texted me back. She’s totally wearing the crown from Disneyland.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jemma says, drawing the word out luxuriously.

“We should take one for her too,” adds Skye, “all of us, where it doesn’t look like we might jump each other.”

Bobbi smirks. “Well, I’m good at pretending.”

Jemma paws at her own face.

Skye giggles. “God. Okay, here.” She positions the phone. “Smile!”

Jemma grins, Bobbi smirks, and Skye holds up a peace sign. Then she texts the picture to Jiaying and flops back on Bobbi.

“You know what one of my favorite things about Halloween is?” Bobbi asks, idly petting both girls at once.

“What’s that?” Jemma asks sweetly.

“All the hot girls,” Bobbi declares.

Skye snorts. “You’re funny. But also, ditto.”

“I mean.” Bobbi nods around the room. “I’m not being a single bit sarcastic when I say, damn, Audrey makes ballgowns look sexy.”

Jemma giggles. “It certainly is nice on her.”

“Yeah,” murmurs Skye. “Kara and Rhodey looked really good together. And, y’know. Separately.”

“God, they did,” Jemma agrees eagerly. “Very dashing. And also just. Lovely.”

“Yeah,” Bobbi agrees. “That was cute. I’m glad for them.”

“Also, on the subject of glad for, did I hear you saying Victoria and Isabelle moved in?” Jemma asks, wide-eyed and eager. “Because. That’s wonderful. They’re. They looked wonderful. I’m. Yes.”

“You’re cute,” says Skye. “All stammery when you talk about girls.”

“You’d be the best one for knowing that,” Jemma declares.

“I feel like that doesn’t make sense,” Skye replies, “but I’m also kinda drunk, so.”

Jemma shrugs. “Point is. Hot lady pirates. I’m in favor.”

Bobbi just smirks.

“Also, Sharon and everyone,” Jemma adds eagerly. “I’m so glad they had that idea, it was perfect.”

“Fuck yes!” says Skye with a grin. “They’re so badass.”

“Also hot,” Jemma says. “Though, I rather think we all could… I mean, Bobbi, you’d be a fantastic Angharad too.”

“I’m going to assume that’s not meant weirdly,” Bobbi chuckles.

“No!” Jemma insists. “No, I just mean, she’s a feminist badass, you’re a feminist badass.”

“And I suppose we know who you two would be,” Bobbi teases. “Cuddlebugs.”

Skye bursts into giggles. “Did you mean to say that out loud? Or like, at all, in any context?”

Bobbi shrugs. “Well, it’s true.”

“We’re rubbing off on you,” Skye sing-songs.

“Oh my god,” Bobbi snorts.

It takes Skye a second, but then she laughs loudly. “I didn’t even mean to do that!”

“And yet,” Jemma cuts in, grinning.

Once Skye’s recovered, she adds, “Yeah, so...on the subject of hot girls…” She pauses a bit. “‘Bout that Raina and Lorelei.”

“That was certainly something,” Bobbi agrees, nodding slowly.

“Very,” Jemma says. “Their corsets. And. Yes.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” giggles Skye.

Pietro zooms up at that moment and says, “Hello! What are you all doing?”

Wanda comes running up behind him. “Pietro, don’t bother them!”

“I’m not,” he protests. “I am merely asking a question.”

“They’re busy,” she insists, tugging at his arm. “I am sorry,” she adds to the group. “He takes so much looking after.”

Skye shrugs and grins. “No worries. Spot you later, cheetah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immediately followed by [ it's the field of dreams runnin' in the bloodstreams, but I only dream of you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/11801528) and [watching it all over my shoulders until the masquerade's over](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/11854391).


	67. you and I, holding hands, nobody knows, nobody understands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Maria run into each other while getting coffee and have a talk; Coulson finds a way to deal with his disappointment.

“Hey,” says Maria, as if running into the woman who stayed the night at your place after drunkenly confessing her feelings for you and then bailed the next day citing homework as her reasoning is totally normal.

Maya, who had her reservations about skipping out due to homework because of how it might look but couldn’t avoid it, looks up from the pastry case with a very deer in the headlights expression. “Hey,” she echoes. “Uh.”

“Did you get everything done?” Maria asks, smiling a little awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Maya says. “I, I mean I doubt it was my very best work, but I don’t think even graduate professors are foolish enough to expect best work after Halloween weekend.”

Maria chuckles. “Probably not. I…” She pauses and then reaches for Maya’s hand. “I had a really nice time.”

Maya gulps. It takes her a full thirty seconds to realize she ought to say something about now. “I did too,” she whispers. “I really am sorry I had to run.”

“Hey, I understand. Shit happens.” Maria gives her hand a tentative squeeze. “Listen, um. I know this is kind of a weird time to be doing this, but do you maybe wanna grab dinner or something? Y’know, go out on a date like normal people?”

“Pretending to be normal is always fun,” Maya chuckles.

“Yeah. God knows I’m terrible at it.” Maria grins and adds, “I’ll text you about it later?”

“That sounds really good,” Maya agrees.

“Good.” Almost shyly, Maria leans over and kisses Maya’s cheek. “Later, then.”

“Later,” Maya repeats, beaming.

 

* * *

 

“‘Sup, boss,” calls Maria as she practically floats into the security office.

Fury stares at her for a long moment. “You’re...perky.”

“How good of you to notice,” she says breezily. “What do you want me doing?”

“Paperwork,” he grunts. “The same damn thing I have you do _every_ Monday morning, as you have done for the past two years.”

Coulson looks up from his desk. “What’s with the good mood? I’ve never seen you this happy.”

“I had a _fantastic_ weekend,” she informs him, plopping onto her chair and grinning. “I’ve forgotten how nice it is to wake up next to a pretty girl.”

At that, Coulson turns scarlet and Fury sighs. “Yeah, well, lemme throw you a party. You think you can do your job or should I send you out on a perimeter sweep, clear your head?”

Maria rolls her eyes. “Please, you’d miss me too much.”

Coulson coughs and shuffles some papers. “So, uh, who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s not hard,” teases Maria. “Think about it for a second.”

After visibly thinking for a moment, Coulson still looks baffled. “Well...Natasha already has a girlfriend...and boyfriends...right?”

Maria snorts. “Yeah. Not her, though. Try again.”

“...Bobbi?”

“It’s Maya Hansen,” says Fury, before Coulson attempts to cycle through every woman who works in the mall. “I’ll send you a nice fruit basket. Now, will both of you get to work?”

They’re all quiet for a minute or two until Coulson asks, “...who’s Maya Hansen?”

Maria looks up to give him a truly stellar glare. “She was standing next to me for most of Tony’s party?”

Fury shakes his head.

 

* * *

 

Moping in the food court’s not exactly the most dignified of responses, but here he is anyway. Coulson stares at his slice of pizza without really eating it, head propped on one hand.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think your hot date stood you up,” comes a voice from behind him.

Startled out of his reverie, he turns around to see who’s talking to him. It’s an unfamiliar woman, with sharp cheekbones and a severe bob haircut. She’s smirking.

“Uh,” he says intelligently.

“I hit a nerve,” she says, pouting exaggeratedly.

“I just...wasn’t expecting anybody today,” he replies. “Have we met before?”

“Doubtful.” Without being invited, she sits down across the table from him and flashes a smile. “I’m Rosalind. We’re sort of neighbors here.”

“Oh?” He straightens up and tries to pretend he wasn’t moping.

‘You’re in security, aren’t you?”

He nods. “Phil Coulson. And you’re from…?”

“Teavana,” she says, managing to make it sound at once serious and droll. “I suppose you could say I’m the _new kid_.”

“Well. Welcome,” he replies, smiling a little shakily. “Are you new to the area too?”

“Fairly,” she says, with a casual shrug that means that’s all she’s going to be saying on that subject just yet.

Now he’s not sure what to say, but he wants to keep talking to her. “Do you like it?”

“I don’t dislike it,” she says.

“So...what do you do for fun?”

Her lips twist up in something that’s not quite a smirk. “I’ve always enjoyed playing with balls,” she says, eyebrow raised like she’s daring him to question this.

His mouth falls open just slightly, and he covers it with nervous laughter. “I, uh, I like baseball,” he says lamely. “How about that World Series?”

“It was all right,” she says noncommittally.

“I’m a big Mets guy. Was pretty devastated they lost. You?”

“I’m not really stuck on just one team,” she declares. “I’m more interested in seeing how the game gets played.”

He coughs. “That’s...that’s certainly interesting. Any other hobbies?”

“I cultivate a certain… aesthetic,” she replies, smiling coyly. “You know how it is.”

He raises both eyebrows. “Do I?” he asks.

“I’m sure you could figure it out if you tried,” she purrs.

Blinking, he says, “I’m...sure I could?”

She looks him up and down. “Take me to dinner and try,” she says.

He’s about to reply, but a sound gets stuck in his throat and comes out sounding sort of like _hurk._

“It’s not a request,” she adds.

“Where?” he asks, when he can finally get a word out.

“That’s up to you,” she says, which means it’s clearly a test. “But I don’t do well with _family friendly_.”

“Noted,” he says, more like chokes. “Did you, uh, have a day in mind?”

“Saturday would be the most traditional.” Which may or may not be a bad thing.

“Okay. Saturday. I’ll pick you up?” It comes out as more of a question than he means it to.

“That would do.”

“Here’s my number,” he says, pulling out the notepad and pen from his jacket pocket and writing it down. “Text me your address?”

Rosalind eyes the notepad with some amusement. “I’ll be sure to.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh look, she’s claiming him.”

Kara tilts her head. “Who’s claiming...who?” she asks.

Natasha nods over to where Coulson and Rosalind are talking. “Rosalind, the new Teavana manager, she’s playing him like a fiddle.”

“Can you explain further?” Kara mumbles, wrinkling her nose. “I think I’m missing something.”

“Sorry. Okay, so you missed a lot of this, but basically Coulson was pining after Melinda for over a year, but she’s with Sif now. So he’s pouting, which is where I assume Rosalind came in.” Natasha smirks. “You’re familiar with femdomme, yeah?”

“In about the vaguest sense possible,” Kara admits, scrunching up her nose. “Y’know.”

“No worries. As long as you know basically what I mean. She’s testing him out.”

“Testing him out to…”

“Y’know. He’s a total sub. And you can tell he’s into this.”

Kara watches for a moment, nodding. “I guess so, yeah,” she says. “Uh, is there a reason that it’s funny?”

Shrugging, Natasha replies, “Personal satisfaction? Coulson’s not that bad, but he was being kind of weird to Mel, and then Audrey. I’m amused that someone came along who’ll keep him in line.”

“What was he doing to Audrey?” Kara asks, frowning.

“Nothing too weird, but he was just awkward as fuck and he was kind of try-hard. I would never have let him make her uncomfortable, but I know she wasn’t exactly thrilled with his attention.”

“Well, then, fuck him,” Kara mutters. “I’m glad he’s found a more appropriate alternative.”

“Oh, he has,” says Natasha with a laugh. “I was talking to her a little the other day. She’s cool. Has that _Devil Wears Prada_ vibe.”

“She doesn’t seem the tea type,” Kara muses.

“Right? Didn’t wanna offend her by asking, though. I thought she might stab me with her heel.” Natasha’s only half-joking.

As they’re giggling about this, Pietro jogs up and coughs. “Hello.”

“What brings you here, Speedy?” asks Natasha, not missing a beat.

“I have a present for her,” he says, holding out the envelope in his hand. “You will like it,” he adds to Kara.

“Oh,” Kara says. “I… don’t know what to… say?”

“You will like it,” he repeats.

“Well,” says Natasha, and her voice suddenly has a dangerous edge to it, “you’re not gonna like what I’m thinking of doing if you don’t cut to the chase, 5k.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Kara says softly, and she takes the envelope. “Let me see that.”

“Here.” Pietro hands it to her.

Kara slices open the envelope with a fingernail, chewing on her lip as she pulls out a card with a cat on it, licking itself and accompanied by the words “I has a flavor.” This does nothing to alleviate her confusion, but the message inside the card is clearer.

_Yeah, I don’t get it either._

_But it was one of the least offensive options._

_Anyway, I heard you were thinking about getting a tattoo. Consider this a contribution._

And a check - for honestly much more than a tattoo would cost - in the envelope, too. A red, hibiscus-printed check with the name Raina Kelly printed in the upper left-hand corner.

“What is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s a nice thing,” Kara promises. “Nothing to worry about.”


	68. there was a time when I would have believed them if they told me you could not come true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria goes to support Maya during an important presentation before taking her on a date; Skye hears about said date and decides to spy on them, much to Jemma and Fitz's chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the facts given about Tolkien characters are true.

Truth be told, Maria has very little idea of what’s going on right now.

Of course, she’s there to support Maya, who’s just given a presentation on... _something_ relevant to her biotech degree. Maria’s currently standing across the lobby from Maya, who’s surrounded by her fellow science nerds chattering excitedly about - well, Maria can only make out every fourth word and most of those don’t even make sense, but Jane and Jemma’s faces are lit up as they listen to Maya and Helen playfully argue about something related to polymerase chain reactions. Meanwhile, Gwen, Linnea, and Claire seem to be having an entirely different but equally riveting (to them) conversation about genomic libraries.

Well, she does at least understand the word “libraries.” Though god knows if that means the same thing to science people. It’s cute watching Maya be so excited, though. She looks so _alive,_ in her element. Maria’s happy to listen to hours of incomprehensible science talk if it makes Maya happy.

There’s a little lull in the conversation where Maya happens to look up and glance across the room, and she perks up even more when she sees Maria standing there. She waves her over, grinning, but then Aldrich Killian sidles up to Maya and says, “Fancy seeing you here, Maya.”

“Ugh,” Jane whispers to Jemma.

“Double ugh,” Jemma agrees.

“Is he the horrible one?” Helen asks softly. “I’ve been lucky enough to miss him till now.”

“He’s the horrible one,” Jane confirms.

“Well, it was my presentation,” Maya is saying.

“Yes,” says Killian, blatantly staring at her tits (which, true, look amazing, but Maria still bristles). “You’re doing all right for yourself, aren’t you?”

“I worked my ass off and made sure I knew my material, so I’m glad it was well-received,” Maya says through gritted teeth, folding her arms over her chest.

“And what an...accomplishment that is,” replies Killian. “May I say, you clean up very nicely.”

“Ew,” Jemma mutters.

Maya opens her mouth to respond, looking none too pleased, but before she can Maria runs (well, as much as she can) over to remark “Why yes she does” before gently grabbing Maya’s face and kissing her on the lips.

Jemma and Jane both squawk.

“Hi, love,” Maya croons, sliding her arm around Maria’s waist. “I hope you haven’t been too bored.”

“No, no,” reassures Maria. “I mean, I don’t have any idea what’s going on, but you’re happy and that’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” Maya hums, smiling. “Killian, you remember Maria? My…”

“Girlfriend,” says Maria, surprised at how easily it rolls off her tongue. “Hi.” She gives Killian, who looks stunned, a cursory nod.

Skye, who’s at the other corner of the room, perks up at this development and nudges Fitz. Fitz, texting Trip, yelps indignantly. “They’re _giiiiiirlfriends,_ ” she coos.

“Riveting,” he snarks, and retreats back to his phone.

Rolling her eyes, Skye skips over to Maya’s group and waves. “Uh, nice work,” she says to Maya. “Great presentation. Very...science-y.” She grins, hoping that will make up for her vocabulary.

Jemma sighs through her teeth, taking Skye’s hand. “Decided you’ve had enough of the sidelines?” she asks, her own grin very transparent.

“Yeah. Plus, I missed my own gorgeous science nerd.” Skye leans over to kiss Jemma’s cheek.

“Gross,” says Gwen with a smirk.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Maya says once that dies down, smirking. “Science-y is what we go for here in the science department.”

“I see you go for some...other things...too,” replies Skye, waggling her eyebrows in Maria’s direction.

“Yes!” Jemma’s eyes are wide, her voice is pitched high, and her grip on Skye’s hand is almost threateningly tight. “Like professionalism! And, and being… articulate!”

“Nice save,” Jane mouths at Jemma, rolling her eyes fondly.

Killian coughs, trying to draw attention to himself, and when that doesn’t work he slinks away, pouting.

“You wounded him,” Helen crows, lightly nudging Maya’s shoulder.

“Was it fatal?” Maya quips.

“You’re awful,” Helen giggles.

“I know,” Maya replies.

“Wait,” says Skye, “isn’t he the asshat that was at Anne Weaver’s Christmas party?”

“He’s the asshat who’s anywhere around this department,” Jane sighs. “You learn how to keep your impulse to punch him in check.”

“Kind of,” Maria chimes in, frowning and putting her arm around Maya’s shoulders.

Gwen chuckles. “Well, thanks for talking shop, guys, but I gotta go. Very important Netflix queue and needy boyfriend calling me.”

“If he wants to see the presentation, there’ll be video online in a couple of days,” Maya says. “Tell him hey.”

“And from us,” Jemma grins.

Gwen gives them a mock-salute before turning to go. “Will do!”

“I should go, too,” Jane says. “I was promised bedtime snack cookies, on the condition that I actually made an effort to observe a normal bedtime.”

Claire snorts. “Who does that? Bullshit. We have to get to night shift, c’mon guys.” She gestures to Helen and Linnea, who call out their goodbyes as they follow her out.

“Thank you for the presentation,” Jemma says to Maya. “I’ll see you later?” And she waves as she steers Skye away to give Maya and Maria space.

“As for you,” Maria says, “we have a date.”

“We do,” Maya agrees, shyly reaching for Maria’s hand.

“You’re sure you don’t mind Olive Garden? I could try calling around and seeing if any fancier places have space…”

“Hey,” Maya murmurs, “I really don’t mind. Besides, it’s not like I’m exactly classy about this kind of stuff. I just want to spend time with you, or some other cheesy thing.”

Maria laughs. “You’re cute, Hansen.”

Maya bats her eyelashes. _“Gosh_ ,” she says, clearly self-parodying.

Rolling her eyes, Maria gives her a playful shove. “C’mon, genius, let’s get going.”

Skye, who is definitely not eavesdropping, pokes Jemma in the arm. “Let’s go get Olive Garden.”

“What?” Jemma asks, distracted. “I’ve class in the morning.”

“We won’t be long. _Pleeease?_ ” wheedles Skye, making her eyes big and sad.

“Dear lord,” mutters Fitz. “You’re incorrigible. Must you spy on _everyone_?”

“Spying?” Jemma mumbles, and then she puts it together. “You wouldn’t!”

“C’mon,” says Skye, “don’t _you_ wanna know what they’re like together?”

“Well, yes, but I’m not going to go out of my way to eavesdrop on their date,” Jemma replies.

Skye grins. “You don’t have to, if I’m there!”

“I’m seconding the incorrigible thing,” Jemma sighs.

 

* * *

 

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Maya admits as they’re looking the menu over. “I’m possibly a little bit fuzzy on the protocol.”

“And you think I have?” Maria raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Maya says. “So, uh, I couldn’t help but notice before. The g-word.”

Maria coughs. “Yes, uh, that, uh. I figured…” Her eyes dart to Maya’s face and then away. “...that was okay?”

“Yeah,” Maya repeats. “Yeah, no, it was really okay. More than okay. I just wasn’t sure you’d want to… I mean, so early.”

“It seemed right,” says Maria with what she hopes is a casual shrug.

“It was. Is,” Maya whispers. “I definitely wanna be your girlfriend.”

“Well, good. ‘Cause I wanna be yours,” replies Maria, a little awkwardly, but she smiles and hopes Maya won’t mind.

“Good,” Maya giggles. “We’re decided, then. Officially.”

“ _Officially_ ,” teases Maria. “It’s not like we’re one of your experiments, Maya. We don’t have to be formal.”

“It’s what I’m used to, okay?” Maya exclaims.

“It’s endearing,” Maria reassures her. “Whatever you want, okay?”

Maya takes Maria’s hand. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Skye stands up. “I gotta pee, I’ll be right back.”

“ _Really_ ,” Jemma says archly, not even bothering to hide her frown.

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “It was a long lecture. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” Then she walks away - making a loop around the edge of the restaurant, very much _not_ in the direction of the restrooms.

“Why did we let her talk us into this?” Jemma asks Fitz despairingly.

Fitz shrugs. “I was hungry, I dunno about you.” He picks up his phone again and chuckles.

“What if they figure _it out_ ,” she asks, not willing to drop it.

“Then they’ll probably have a laugh at Skye’s expense. Which she deserves.” Fitz grabs the last breadstick and bites a chunk out of it.

“You are so lucky there are refills on those,” Jemma rolls her eyes.

“Why, would she fight me for it?”

“Yes,” Jemma says darkly.

Fitz snorts. “I could take her.”

“I promise you couldn’t.”

Fitz takes another slow, deliberate bite of the breadstick. “Well, I’m hungry and the food’s not here, so I’m eating.”

Jemma waves down their waiter, smirking. “Refill on the breadsticks?” she requests, and once that’s settled, she rolls her eyes playfully at Fitz and says, “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” he says primly.

Skye returns seven minutes later. “They definitely did it,” she says. “Maya was thanking Maria for ‘the other night.’”

“What did you do, hide behind a potted plant to listen in on them?” Jemma snarks.

“No,” Skye scoffs. “There weren’t any over there. I just, y’know. Loitered.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t suspicious at all.”

“Probably not. Anyway, aren’t you listening? They totally banged!”

“Must we talk about this?” objects Fitz, with an appalled look.

“That’s - lots of people totally bang!” Jemma hisses, looking horrified. “We totally bang all the time. It’s not _newsworthy_ , it just is!”

“It is when you’ve only been together like two weeks!” insists Skye. “I mean, I’m not judging, I would too if I was dating either one of them. I bet they do hot police officer roleplay, or they will.”

Jemma turns bright red, accidentally makes eye contact with Fitz, and immediately drops to hide her face in her hands.

Fitz coughs loudly. “This is something I would never like to think about, thank you very much.”

“Okay, okay.” Skye grabs a breadstick and tears off the end, stuffing it into her mouth. “You both should be appreciating my mad Veronica Mars skills.”

“I’d appreciate them more if you weren’t using them so… dubiously,” Jemma mumbles.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Skye argues, but then their food shows up and she’s momentarily distracted by her chicken parmesan.

“No, but it’s - it’s -” Jemma falters, looking across the room without thinking and happening to spot Maya and Maria kissing. This has the effect of making her mouth fall open.

And Skye notices, of course, and looks as well. “ _Totally_ did it,” she says smugly.

“Or, at the very least, they’re going to,” Jemma concedes, sighing.

 

* * *

 

“We’re being spied on,” murmurs Maria with a smirk, tilting her head toward Skye’s table.

Oh-so-subtly, Maya turns her head to the side, peeking out the corner of her eye. “Are we good gossip?” she asks.

“Seems to be. Little Ms. Simmons looks shocked.” Maria snickers. “Skye was over here earlier eavesdropping in the least subtle way ever.”

“I think that proves even further whose idea it was,” Maya chuckles.

“True.” Maria takes a sip of wine. “It’s funny they care so much.”

“You remember the holiday party last year?” Maya asks.

“At Anne’s? Yeah, why?”

“Well, at one point Jane and Jemma and I were all in the kitchen and the subject of you came up,” Maya says. “That you weren’t _really_ my date. Except, of course, I can see in retrospect that I wished you were, and I can almost guarantee that they saw it then. Hell, that might have even gotten passed along to Skye.”

“Ah.” Maria nods. “Makes sense, then. Also you’re adorable.”

“Why’s that?”

“You _liked_ me,” Maria replies, drawing the word out in a sing-song way.

“Well, yes,” Maya shrugs. “I hadn’t figured it out yet, but like I said before, that came significantly after the fact.”

Maria laughs. “Well, I’m the one who helped you buy a vibrator for Christmas, so we’re both none too bright, I guess.”

“Convenient, though,” Maya muses. “I mean, now we know what kind of sex toys the other one likes, that’s…” And she trails off, turning bright red.

Snorting, Maria says, “Yeah, I guess we do. That’s saucy, Hansen.”

Maya doesn’t even bother to be subtle about her facepalm. “Well, you brought it up, sort of,” she mumbles.

Maria leans over to kiss her cheek. “You want me to dig out my dildo?” she teases.

“Uh,” Maya says very articulately.

“I didn’t think you could even _get_ flustered,” says Maria playfully. “It’s pretty damn cute.”

“I’m remarkably good at hiding it most of the time,” Maya declares. “But that’s kind of a question that - well, I don’t want… I guess a good way to put it is I’ve tried the casual sex thing and it’s not awful but it’s not the best and I don’t want you to think that’s all I’m in this for?”

Maria nods. “Well, me neither, so that works out.” She puts her hand over Maya’s.

Maya twines their fingers and for a moment they just sit there in contented silence. But once she’s got a grip on herself, she looks up and smirks. “Besides,” she whispers. “I think we both established we’re more vibrator girls.”

“Good point.” Smirking, Maria adds, “Maybe sometime we should buy that Mona thing you were talking about and you can show me why it’s so great.”

“It’s supposed to be pretty multi-purpose,” Maya says. “And powerful as hell.”

“Ooh, sounds good already,” purrs Maria. “But I trust your taste.”

“Well, considering my taste pointed to you,” Maya shrugs cheerfully.

“That was so cheesy it’s breathtaking,” Maria snarks.

“Might as well lean into it,” Maya says.

“Fair point,” says Maria, with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“I think she just said ‘dildo,’” says Skye, who’s blatantly staring at Maria and trying to lipread. “Or Bilbo, but Maya’s the wrong kind of nerd to be talking about Bilbo Baggins on a date.”

“We could talk about Bilbo though,” says Fitz, loudly. “Did you know that Tolkien said that in the Westron language, his name is Bilba Labingi? And Frodo’s is Maura. Also, the original name Tolkien used for Aragorn was Trotter, and he was also a Hobbit.”

“Labingi sounds like pasta,” Skye says with a giggle. “Spaghetti labingi!”

Fitz glares. “Yes, well. People also like to pretend Legolas’ surname is Greenleaf, when that’s really just what his name means, so they’re actually saying Greenleaf Greenleaf.”

“Also I see what he was going for with Trotter, but it either sounds like a horse or an adult film star.”

“That would be a fairly tame adult film star, depending, though,” Jemma says.

Skye shrugs. “Also there’s definitely a porn starring Dildo Baggins.”

“The word ‘dildo’ was first used in a Thomas Nashe poem in 1593,” Jemma offers, pulling out her phone to fact-check this. “Yes. _The Choice of Valentines or the Merie Ballad of Nash his Dildo_. So it’s a slightly post-medieval term, which wouldn’t _quite_ go with Tolkien’s vaguely medieval setting, but there you have it.”

“You’re thinking too much about this,” says Skye affectionately. “His name still kind of sounds like ‘dildo.’”

“Well, yes,” Jemma shrugs. “It’s not the cleverest of porn names, but it’s not the worst.”

Fitz sighs. “Must you ruin everything I like?”

“Yes,” replies Skye sweetly. Then she glances up and notices Maria and Maya’s table is empty. “Aw, shit.”

“Serves you right,” says Fitz, smirking. “Poking your nose into their business and making fun of Bilbo Baggins.”

“I think she was just making fun of his name,” Jemma suggests, trying for a peacemaking tone. “Though, I could always be talked into a round of mocking Martin Freeman.”

“Oh, I’ll join you there. He’s serviceable at best, needs to stop getting cast as the everyman though.” Fitz scoffs. “He was too sure of himself to be Bilbo.”

“Nerds,” says Skye, reaching over to squeeze Jemma’s hand. “But yeah, I was pretty done with him after that Lucy Liu bullshit.”

“If only the world at large was as unaccepting of bigoted piggish assholes,” Jemma says.

“Yeah.” Skye seems distracted. “You don’t think they’re still out in the parking lot, do you? Maya and Maria, I mean.”

“I’d imagine they’ve gone back to one of theirs,” Jemma shrugs. “They’ve got that option.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you getting - a thrill from feeling like we could be discovered any minute?” Maya whispers against Maria’s neck.

Maria snorts, but not unkindly, as she leans into Maya’s touch. “Despite the fact that neither of us are in middle school, oddly, yes.”

“It is sort of fun,” Maya muses, kissing the spot beneath Maria’s ear.

Maria sighs a bit, then pulls Maya over to kiss her lips hungrily. “Yeah,” she murmurs against Maya’s lips. “Can’t remember the last time I made out with someone in a car like teenagers.”

“That makes two of us,” Maya says. “But I’m kind of delighted by it.” She rests her forehead against Maria’s for a second. “Delighted by you.”

“Gross,” Maria teases, smiling. “But yeah, me too. You’re pretty great.”

“I try,” Maya chuckles. “For the record, I’m also pretty flattered that you couldn’t wait till we got back to whoever’s place we wound up going to to do all this.”

“Well, with you looking like that? I couldn’t resist.” Maria kisses her again.

“Like what?” Maya asks, not because she’s fishing for compliments but because she honestly doesn’t know.

“All...I don’t know...fancy and professional,” says Maria. Maya’s not even wearing anything that special, just slacks and a light blue button-up, but it looks _really_ good on her.

“Is competency a turn-on too, then?” Maya asks playfully.

Maria smirks. “What if it is? What are you gonna do then?”

“Keep being really damn competent,” Maya says.


	69. but I'd settle for an honest mistake in the name of one sweet love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this year's Black Friday, rather than an enormous crisis, there are a series of smaller, less dramatic ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for vague references to the past-tense abusive relationship.
> 
> Also, the details of the Build-a-Bear process may be a little mixed up, since one of us has never been and the other was working off of months-old memories. The cat books are real - do not read them, you will never escape Warriors hell.
> 
> Slightly preceded by [while the only light you'll see is from my glow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/12178070).

“I mean, I haven’t ever really had a proper Thanksgiving, but I think I like this kind better,” says Fitz, nestling against Trip and taking a bite of potatoes.

“You’re really not missing out,” Bobbi declares, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip of her hard cider.

Skye snorts. “I mean, sometimes the orphanage _tried,_ kinda. It was pretty sad usually. I guess a couple families tried when I was with them, but it was just kinda awkward? So yeah, fuck it. Ours is great.”

“I’m still not sure what the Rockettes and giant inflatable cartoon characters have to do with your country’s founding,” Jemma shrugs cheerfully, nodding at their television (they recorded the parade this morning, though they’re only just getting around to watching it), “but I won’t argue the mindless entertainment factor that it provides.”

Trip chuckles. “And thanks to yours truly, you have great food, right?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Skye says around a mouthful of gourmet macaroni and cheese. “Thank you, Trip!”

“This is neither traditional Thanksgiving mediocrity nor shit out of a box,” Bobbi agrees with a smile.  “So it’s kind of beating my previously most notable Thanksgivings of late.”

“Dish,” insists Skye. “You can’t say shit like that and then not dish!”

Bobbi rolls her eyes dramatically.  “Well,” she begins, “none of you are wearing paper pilgrim hats, for one.”

“ _What?_ ” Fitz almost drops the drumstick he’s holding.

“Oh, yeah,” Bobbi says.  “I never did have the heart to tell Clint it was supposed to be a tabletop decoration, not a literal hat.”

“Good grief,” Jemma says.

Trip grins. “How long did he keep that on for?”

“The entire afternoon, up until the point where he’d pass out on his couch from all of the turkey,” Bobbi declares.  “Have you ever tried watching the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special?  The one where they reenact the first Thanksgiving?  Made me envy his tryptophan daze.”

“I saw it once, maybe? I don’t remember it that well. But I’ll take your word for it.”

“This all pales in comparison, however, to the absolute hell that is Thanksgiving with a sad drunken British man who likes to pretend he’s more manly than he is,” Bobbi continues with a smirk.  “Beer after beer.  Nonstop James Bond marathon.  Etcetera.”

“Jesus,” says Skye, taking a swig of her cider. “You only had one of those, though, right?”

“Thankfully, ha-ha, yes,” Bobbi deadpans.  “But once was enough.”

“Well, I’m glad we can be a nice alternative,” Jemma says, smiling.

Nodding, Trip adds, “Good to have you.” Fitz sort of grunts agreement even though his mouth is currently full.

They finish the parade as they finish dinner and wind up just drowsily channel-surfing until bedtime is called (Jemma and Fitz both insisting, for different reasons).  Then it’s boys to one bed and girls to the other, and that’s how they stay until Bobbi’s alarm goes off.

At three in the morning.

“Nooooo,” Skye whines sleepily, curling around Bobbi’s body like a snake.

“You’re not the one who has to haul your ass out of bed in the middle of the night,” Bobbi mumbles, though she’s not doing said hauling yet.  “Don’t complain.  You still have a very pretty girlfriend to snuggle.”

“But it’s even more fun snuggling you at the same time,” Jemma says, words slurring together.

“Yeah,” agrees Skye. “‘s warm and nice. D’you have to leave us?” She makes a face like a pet shop puppy.

“Unfortunately,” Bobbi sighs.  She wiggles herself mostly free before giving Skye a kiss, then turning to give Jemma one as well. “It’s the price I pay for expecting Mack to repair my vigilante vehicle.”

Jemma makes a face.  “But at this hour?”

“Hey, you know how Best Buy gets on Black Friday, it’s hellish,” Bobbi says.

Pouting, Skye replies, “ _Fine._ More cuddles later?”

“Promise.”

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit,” Bobbi mutters as she finally manages to push into Best Buy.

Mack’s practically leaning on his checkstand. The store’s been open for a few hours, so it’s less of a madhouse and more of a slow trickle, but he’s pretty much done anyway. “Hey,” he says tiredly. “Don’t suppose you brought caffeine?”

“Your choice of root beer, Red Bull, or 5-hour Energy,” she chirps, nodding to her shopping bag.  “I myself am currently getting by on the latter.”

Mack grabs the 2-liter of Mug, grinning. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Not even going to wait until you can break away to go for it?” she teases.

“It’s 4:38 AM and everyone else can fuck off,” he says cheerfully.

“Bet this makes you miss the car wash.”

“Not enough to go back,” Mack replies. “But the hours, a little. Hell, I’m due for a break, c’mon.”

“The employee discount here is probably more useful,” Bobbi shrugs, following him in the direction of the employee break room.

Mack nods. “The preorders are pretty good too. You brought food, right?”

“Some actual food, some sugary junk,” she agrees.

“Fine by me.” When the reach the break room, he rifles through the bag and pulls out a tupperware with leftover mac and cheese in it. “Holy shit, nice.” He sticks it in the microwave and eats one of the cookies Bobbi’s brought while he waits for the timer.

“We had plenty of extra,” she shrugs.  “And I figured if I was hauling my ass over here in the middle of the night I might as well bring something decent.”

“I appreciate it,” says Mack around the cookie. “‘Specially since I dragged you away from your girlfriends and all.” He smirks at her.

Bobbi rolls her eyes.  “They’re not my girlfriends.”

“Sure, whatever,” he replies playfully. “You’re only over there like, three nights out of the week. Totally not girlfriends.”

“We have an arrangement,” she corrects.  “An arrangement for which there isn’t just one good word.”

“Uh huh.” He’s laying into the mac and cheese now. When he comes up for air he says, “Seriously, thanks, Bob. Tonight hasn’t been great.”

“Well, I do owe you one,” she says cheerfully.  “Got any horror stories to get off your chest?”

He shrugs. “Mostly just assholes shoving each other around for TVs and stuff. Couple shoplifting attempts, nothing too serious. Draining, mostly.”

“Still,” Bobbi grimaces.  “Nothing like Black Friday to turn a normal soul into a misanthrope.”

“You can say that again. When do you start?”

“I should be there by eight,” she says.  “Which gives me just enough time to bestow more treats on the other unlucky assholes pulling the night shift, go home and hit things for a while, and shower.”

“Sounds fun.” He grins. “I’ve got a couple more hours and then I’m going home to pass out. Might go see Bruce later, but I gotta sleep first.”

“Poor thing,” Bobbi pouts, knowing it comes off parodying.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been here since midnight, cut me some slack.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I sympathize,” she says.  “I’m just at the stage of having only had enough sleep to either be monotone or completely sarcastic.  Take your pick.”

“Fair point.” Mack offers her the last cookie.

She accepts it gladly, even if she’s already had at least four throughout the day.  “Dare I ask how you spent the holiday?”

“Just sitting around mostly. Bruce came over, we made tacos and played games for a bit, then I had to go to bed at like seven so he left. Nothing exciting, but it was nice. You were with your...arrangement, right?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Bobbi shrugs.  “And like I told them, it was a much nicer Thanksgiving than I’ve had in a long time.  Not depressingly solitary and not insufferable.”

Mack chuckles. “That’s a good way of putting it, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god, a sane person,” Natasha says when she spots Bobbi coming towards her. She’s leaning against the glass windows at the front of the store.

“A sane person offering free cookies, no less,” Bobbi chirps, grinning slightly manically.

“I love you.” Natasha grabs the bag Bobbi’s holding and shoves a cookie in her mouth.

“I hope your boys aren’t the jealous type,” Bobbi teases.  “They out on the salesfloor from hell?”

“Yeah. My break’s only seven more minutes but I just couldn’t stay in there anymore. God, it’s horrible.”

“At least there can’t be that many people stupid enough to bring their kids?” Bobbi offers.

Natasha snorts. “That’s about the only consolation. You think kids on the playground are bad, they’re nothing compared to adults fighting over clothes.”

“How serious can that argument possibly get?” Bobbi rolls her eyes.  “It’s not like you can’t order more, or that there isn’t something almost exactly like it somewhere else in the store.”

“According to those people, we can’t and there isn’t,” deadpans Natasha. “Which means shoving and slapping is perfectly fine.”

Sam’s come up as she’s talking and chimes in cheerfully, “Man, always fun when you get to use crisis counseling skills at the Gap, huh?”

“For _you_ ,” Natasha replies with a roll of her eyes. “How goes it?”

“About the same. Hey, Bobbi!”

“Hey,” Bobbi returns.  “Cookie?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Sam grabs one and takes a bite, snorting fondly when Natasha stuffs another into her mouth whole.

“What? They’re good,” she retorts, vaguely understandable around said cookie.

He turns back to Bobbi. “You’re here early. Just come to commiserate with us poor bastards?”

“I was delivering some other goodies and figured I might as well,” she shrugs cheerfully.  “So commiseration in a way, at least.”

“We appreciate it,” says Natasha, her mouth mostly empty. “Mind if I take a couple extra for Steve?”

“Oh, I was going to insist,” Bobbi says.  “There’s plenty to go around.”

From across the store, Steve looks up from a rack of men’s denim and smiles like he heard them talking (it’s definitely just a coincidence, given how noisy the store is).

Natasha blows him a kiss anyway. “I’d better get back to it,” she sighs. “Enjoy your freedom, Sam.” She kisses his cheek and waves at Bobbi before heading back inside.

“It been a tolerable night-morning-thing?” Bobbi asks.

Sam shrugs. “Not my favorite, but what can you do?”

“Collect funny stories to share over drinks, mostly.”

“True that. You work later, right?”

She nods.  “It’ll be a thrilling parade of glamorous trainwrecks.”

Sam snorts and asks, “Can’t be worse than here though, right? I mean most people don’t go wedding dress shopping on Black Friday.”

“Oh, every day at David’s Bridal is a parade of glamorous trainwrecks,” she chuckles.  “When the time comes for your bunch to take advantage of my friends and family discount, I’ll make sure we work it out after hours.”

“Appreciated. I think that’s a ways off, but y’know, good to know.”

 

* * *

 

“Is the tinny Christmas music getting to you yet?” Steve asks, sliding into the other chair and passing Natasha her coffee with a smile.

Natasha takes a long drink before answering. “It’s always getting to me,” she sighs. “The classics are fine, but if I hear one more goddamn ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ cover I’m gonna punch something.”

Steve makes a face.  “That song is pretty bad,” he agrees, if mildly.

“It’s revolting,” she replies. “It’s Roofies: The Song.”

“Listening to that song makes me feel ashamed to be an American,” he admits.

She snorts. “I’m ashamed and I’ve only been an American for seven years.”

Sam wanders into the Starbucks and ambles over to them with a smile. “We survived,” he says by way of greeting.

“We did,” Steve says proudly.  “And it wasn’t too bad!”

Natasha sighs. “Well, before we get the fuck out of here, I heard Raina’s got free brownies for anyone who comes in. Do we dare?” She grins playfully.

Steve shrugs.  “Up to you two.”

“I dare!” says Sam eagerly. “Brownies are worth anything.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, this is not exactly what I was expecting,” Raina drawls as Natasha and Sam and Steve enter the store.

“Surprise,” says Natasha with a grin. “You said brownies, yeah?”

“I did,” Raina agrees, waving at the trays currently spread across the counter.  “It’s actually a slow day in here.  I could do with some amusement.”

“Are they, uh, particularly amusing brownies?” Steve asks, scratching the back of his head.

Raina smirks.  “Not if you don’t want them to be.”

“Well, alright.” Sam blinks and takes one with a shrug.

Natasha follows suit. “Sounds fun. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Raina chirps. “Has it been atrocious everywhere else?  I haven’t had anyone feed me gossip yet.”

“The Gap’s been hellish,” says Natasha, “to no one’s surprise. Dunno about anywhere else.”

“People do love their discounted denim,” Raina sniffs.

Sam, meanwhile, is busy scarfing down brownies. “These are damn good,” he says in between bites.

Steve is nibbling on one himself, slightly more reserved.  “They are,” he agrees.  “Did you make them?”

“If I said yes would that surprise you?” Raina asks brightly.

Steve isn’t sure what to say to that, or what to say to Raina in general, so he just shrugs.

“You love that air of mystery you cultivate, huh?” Natasha asks with a smirk.

“You’re one to talk,” mutters Sam around a brownie. Natasha flicks his shoulder playfully.

“I take my kicks where I can,” Raina halfway replies.  She may or may not have more to add to that, but her phone starts to buzz and she reaches for it, saying, “Pardon the interruption.”

“We can get out of your hair,” Steve demurs.  “I think we all need some sleep before our other two get off.”

Sam and Natasha both snicker at Steve’s choice of words.

Raina shrugs cheerfully.  “You’re welcome to hang around as long as you like,” she says.  “I just have a rescue to mount, so I’ll be handing the counter over to Bobby for a few minutes.”  As she’s saying this, she’s slipping out from behind the counter and sliding things into her purse.

Sam raises an eyebrow and nudges Natasha. “Do you know what she’s talking about?” he mumbles into her ear.

“Maybe?” she breathes, then says louder, “Well, thanks, Raina.”

“Of course,” Raina croons, waving farewell as she ducks out.

 

* * *

 

“Part of me is surprised we haven’t been interrupted back here,” Raina murmurs against Lorelei’s neck, sounding wholly unsurprised.  

“Nobody is stupid enough to interrupt me if I actually deign to take someone into the break room,” Lorelei retorts cheerfully, pulling Raina closer and situating her legs around her waist more tightly.  “That’s another one for the list of your special privileges.”

“Bully for me,” Raina hums.

They make out another few minutes before a phone goes off, Lorelei’s this time.  “Your friend is here for that unofficial appointment you set up,” she says.

“Good,” Raina exclaims, hopping off the table and straightening out her clothes.  “She needs it.  Promise me you’ll play nice?”

Lorelei raises an eyebrow.  “Nice as can be expected.”

Kara is waiting for them by the body sprays when they emerge, smiling nervously.  “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Raina and Lorelei chorus, and then Raina blows kisses at both of them and says, “I’ll leave you to it,” flitting out the door.

“So, ah,” Kara says, fussing with her hair.  “If you’re too busy today I can come back and…”

“We agreed on today,” Lorelei shrugs.  “I’m a salesperson.  My job is to sell.  You’re planning to buy, so I can take the time.”  She rolls her eyes almost fondly.  “And nobody is going to say anything about it, trust me.”

“Okay,” Kara says.  “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Lorelei agrees.  She tilts her head, looks Kara over, and declares, “First things first, we need to measure you.”

Self-consciously, Kara folds her arms over her chest.  “My bras fit,” she mumbles.  “They’re good enough, anyway.”

“We’re not aiming for good enough,” Lorelei sighs.  “We’re aiming for perfection.”

“That’s gonna be a hard sell,” Kara cracks.

“Hey,” Lorelei says sharply.  “Stop that.  We’re going to find you some gorgeous lingerie that makes you feel fucking sexy and that is just for you and whoever you want to share it with.”

Kara wrinkles her nose, because shopping for lingerie with a woman who sometimes sleeps with a woman she has lately, publicly kissed is kind of a strange situation.  She went over this with Raina, though, it’s not weird.  It’s just weird.  So instead she admits, “I’ve never actually bought myself lingerie.  I mean, obviously bras and all that, but I never really… never really needed it, I guess?  Before… well, when Grant wanted me in lingerie he’d buy it for me and lay it out.  It was always that horrible-feeling nylon-rayon stuff from Fred Meyer or something.”

Lorelei gives Kara a pitying sort of look.  “Never again,” she says.  “You should never let a man just _buy_ your lingerie.  Buying it _for_ you when you pick it out is one thing, but picking it out?  To hell with that.”

“Yeah,” Kara muses, “that… makes sense.”

“That’s more power over you than men deserve,” Lorelei declares firmly.  “It sounds remarkably dumb, but pick out your own lingerie and the rest will follow.”

 

* * *

 

Mike waves at Kara from the food court table he’s saved for them. “Hey!”

“Hey!” Kara calls, nudging through the crowd to join him.  “I’ve never really done Black Friday before, this is kind of nuts.”

“No kidding,” Mike says with a chuckle. “Not my favorite day of the year. I’m just happy to be out for a bit.”

“I bet your store is hell,” she frowns apologetically.

“Pretty close to it.” He sounds almost cheerful. “I like kids, I like making kids happy, but nobody’s at their best today. We’ve got a sock monkey special going on that’s making everyone act like those are the only monkeys in the world. Way too many grown-ass people screaming at each other.”

“Monkeying around?” Kara suggests with a wry smile.  “I’m sorry, that was awful.”

Mike snorts. “So awful it kind of cycled around to funny again. Or maybe all the puns in the store have destroyed my sense of humor.”

“It kind of seems like retail in general might do that,” she shrugs.

“True enough. How about you? I can’t imagine admin is much fun today either.”

“Irani let me have an extra-long lunch to make up for wanting me in so early,” Kara says, “so that’s helping break the day up a little.  I wandered a little, shopped a little.”

“Nice. I’m probably gonna be too tired to do any of that once I get done,” replies Mike with a chuckle. “Probably go home and crash. Ace and I are decorating the tree tomorrow, gotta be rested up for that.”

“Aw, that’s awesome,” she exclaims.  “Do you guys go all-out?”

“As much as we can,” says Mike. “Not so much with the popcorn chains, but we have a bunch of ornaments he’s made, some stuff from when I was a kid, a few we’ve picked up, y’know. Lights on the tree, a few chains around the apartment. How about you, you big on the holidays?”

Kara shrugs.  “I like them,” she says, “it’s just been a while since I really had a reason to make a big deal.  Living alone, it’s easier just to get a tiny fake Charlie Brown-sized tree and call it a night.”

“I mean, ours is fake too. Can’t be too careful, y’know, former fireman.” Mike laughs as if sharing a joke with himself. “If you don’t have anybody to be with on the actual day, um, I’m sure Ace wouldn’t mind if you came for dinner.”

“That’s sweet,” she murmurs, shrugging noncommittally.  “I still need to thank him for the bear.  Which, I have to ask - why is his name Aquaman?”

“Oh my god, I forgot about that.” Mike laughs again. “Okay, so that’s kind of a long story. You familiar with Aquaman at all?”

“He lives in the ocean and he’s friends with Batman for some reason?”

“That’s a start. There was this cartoon on in the nineties, _Justice League_? It was pretty good, actually. I got the DVDs for Ace when he started getting interested in superheroes. In one of the earlier episodes, Aquaman ends up getting pressure from his advisors to basically take out all the humans so the people of Atlantis could inhabit the earth. He was trying to negotiate a peace treaty, but he got back home to find out his asshole brother took over everything.”

“This was a kid show?” Kara exclaims, wide-eyed.

Mike grins. “DC was not fucking around in the nineties. Anyway, so he and his baby son got shackled to a reef and his brother pushed it towards a volcano, and in order to save the kid Aquaman cut off his own hand. It was pretty badass, and Ace decided he was cool after that. He thought maybe naming your bear Batman was too obvious, so he went with Aquaman.”

“That’s really cute,” she says.  “I mean, it’s not like he’s gonna run into many other karate bears named Aquaman, so.”

“Good point! He’s unique.”

“Yeah!”  Kara concentrates on her food for a minute before asking, almost mischievously, “So how’s Gamora doing?  I haven’t seen her since I got my tattoo done.”

Mike, who’s eating a fry, coughs in surprise for a few seconds. “She’s, uh,” he says when he recovers, “fine?”

“Cool,” she says.  “She seems really awesome.  You’d think you’d be a little less intimidated by someone who’s drawn on your skin, but, well.”  She shrugs self-deprecatingly.  “I’m silly like that, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. She’s, y’know. Hard to get through to sometimes. She’s cool though.” Mike smiles a little shyly. “She showed me her doodles once. Murdering unicorns. They’re weirdly cute.”

“Yeah,” Kara nods, “and I’m not the best at making moves like that, which would account for my almost complete isolation prior to…”  She makes a face, expecting that will fill in the blank.  “That sounds really fun, though.”

“It is. I haven’t heard from her in a while, though. Giving her space and all.” Shrugging, Mike adds, “I figure she’s got enough on her plate with her shop and her sister and all.”

“I think Nebula’s pretty good at taking care of herself,” Kara muses.  “I bet she wouldn’t mind hearing stories about the Black Friday disaster area, or something.”

“Gamora or Nebula?” asks Mike with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll text her later, after my nap.”

 

* * *

 

Mike’s been back for about an hour when he looks up from cleaning up the aftermath of stuffing what’s probably his hundredth animal of the day and spots Laura. “Hey!” he calls.

“Hey,” she echoes, waving cheerfully.  “How goes it?”

“It’s...going,” he says with a wry smile. “And you?”

“Well!” she exclaims, grinning. “So I don’t know if you know, but I’ve been doing this kids’ story hour at the library, just volunteer stuff, and I decided I ought to have a mascot.”

“Well, you’re at the right place!” He sweeps his arm out towards the bins full of plushies. “Everything’s twenty percent off, the sock monkeys are $10 each.”

“I’m feeling like the more ridiculous, the better,” Laura says.  “Point me in the right direction?”

Mike chuckles. “Okay, well. There are bears with designs on them?” He holds up one with white fur covered in rainbow hearts.

“Holy crap, yes,” Laura laughs.  “Please can we stuff it so it’s not sad and deflated?”

“We’re getting there,” he says cheerfully. “Now you have to pick out clothes!”

“And cover up that gorgeous fur?” she says, sounding mildly indignant.  “I could hardly choose something to do that.  Besides, there’s too da...arn much to choose from.”  She surveys the selection curiously.  “I could do glasses, though.  Librarian bear.  Librearian.”

“Oh my god.” Mike giggles a little. “The glasses are over here.”

“Which ones do you think are the most ridiculous?”

Mike sifts through the container of glasses for a minute or two before he offers her a pair of hot pink ones. “How about this?”

“Perfection,” she declares.

“Great! So now we need to stuff...him? Her? Them?” Mike leads her over to the stuffing machine.

“Them, probably,” Laura agrees cheerfully.

“Alright. So let’s go ahead and get them on the machine,” he says, putting the bear on the hoselike attachment, “and you can go ahead and step on that pedal there. It works the machine, and you’ll be able to feel when it’s stuffed enough for you.”

Laura’s eyes go wide, but she nods.  “This feels mildly diabolical,” she observes as she gets to it.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Mike smirks, moving the bear around to get the stuffing in its legs and arms and head. “That good?”

“Think so,” she shrugs.

“Cool. You want just one heart or two?” He grabs a small bin of plush red hearts.

“I think just the one,” she smirks.  “I don’t have a good enough explanation for two.”

“Time Lord? No?” he jokes. “Okay. Now, this is kind of silly but we have the kids do it, so you have to do it too.” He has her put the heart to different parts of her body and recites a silly, pun-filled mantra during it, then asks her to kiss it before putting it inside the bear’s body.

“That happened,” she declares.

He rolls his eyes. “I know, I know, but I can’t have kids see you not doing it. Alright, lemme stitch them up for you.” Once he’s finished, he hands the bear to Laura with a smile. “Adorable.”

She nods.  “Maintain the illusion, I get it.  Thank you!”  With that, she gives the bear a cuddle.

“Of course! Not quite done yet. Time to give them a bath.” He leads her over to a station shaped like a plastic bathtub with a few brushes in it.

“Is this a literal bath with water?”

“No, it’s mostly for the kids,” he chuckles. “Go on, brush their fur. Make them look really nice.”

She nods, taking the brush and starting to go over the bear methodically.  “This place is adorable,” she comments.  “On one hand, I’m shocked I’ve never been before, but on the other hand my bank account is really happy.”

“Yeah, it tends to have that effect,” he agrees. “I’m glad I get an employee discount. Makes Ace pretty popular in school.”

“I bet,” she grins.  “Teddy bear maker is one of the coolest dad jobs in the world."

“Well, since I had to quit being a firefighter I figured I’d just move on to another area,” he says playfully. “Anyway, if you’ve got them all brushed, put their glasses on and let’s go stop by the personality station.”

“Such an easy way of looking at it,” Laura jokes, carefully placing the glasses on her bear’s head and following.

Mike gestures to a screen within a table that shows a variety of icons, labeled things like CREATIVE and LOYAL and SMART, and an outline of a bear. “Go ahead, set them down and then pick a few.”

She giggles, but she starts deliberating over traits before selecting SMART and FRIENDLY and PATIENT.  “I figure they’ll need to be all of those things to work in a children’s department.”

“Good call. Now push the button,” he says, gesturing to the giant SUBMIT button.

“Pushing the button,” she says cheerfully, doing so.

“Great! Now we just have to go over and give them a name and a birthday.” He gestures for her to follow him over to another computer.

“Well, isn’t today their birthday?” she asks.  “I like the idea that someone so cute can be born from something as horrific as Black Friday.”

“That’s a good way of looking at it.” He smiles. “You get a birth certificate too. Just fill in the forms.”

Laura starts to do that from the bottom up, grinning to herself and saving the name for last.  “I kind of think this could be the best name anyone has ever named a bear here,” she admits.

Mike glances at the screen and then yelps a laugh, too loud for the small store, before he can stop himself. “LeVar Bear-ton, brilliant!”

“Curtsies, etcetera,” she smirks.

Mike playfully gives her a half-bow. “Alright, if that’s everything you can go pay for it.”

“Oh, uh, you mentioned sock monkeys?”

“Yeah! Over here.” He leads her to the special barrel full of said monkeys. “You, uh, do have to go through all that again though.”

“It’s important, even if I just thought of it,” she says.  “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

“Uh, hey, are you busy?”

Clint glances up from straightening a display of bracelets and almost faints when he sees Laura standing in front of him. “Uh,” he says. “N-no?”

“Okay, well, I thought, uh, I thought if you had time we could lunch?” she offers, holding up a McDonald’s bag.

“Yeah, I’m about to get off for lunch, actually. Um, if you wanna come to my room? _Break room I mean break room!_ ” He wishes very badly for a hole in the ground to open up so he could just end this.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea.  Better than eating in the middle of the sales floor, yeah?”  She smiles awkwardly, not that he’ll probably notice but she feels awkward, at least.

He chuckles nervously, standing up and heading for the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. “That’s really more of a suggestion,” he says, holding it open for her.

“I figure it’s like, as long as there’s adult supervision,” she offers.  “Or.  Supervision.  Yeah.”

“Sure,” he says with a shrug, leading her into said break room (or at least, there’s a fridge and a table and some chairs, so it’s passably a break room). “You can, uh, sit down, if you want. I dunno why you’d wanna stand, but everybody’s...different.”

She giggles.  “I’ll sit.  Sitting is the civilized option.  Burgers or nuggets?”

“Can I be weird and ask for half and half?”

“That’s not weird, that’s ingenious,” Laura grins.  “But I’m going to let you split the burger because I’m terrible at that kind of thing.”

He grins, pulling out his Swiss Army knife and unwrapping the burger. “I come prepared.”

“I’m impressed,” she says.

He tries not to get more flustered than he already is. “So you, uh, you just started at Yankee Candle, right? What do you usually do for lunch?”

“Usually I grab something that’s terrible for me and read for an hour,” she says.

“Same here, at least the first part. What kind of stuff do you read?”

“Oh, uh.”  Here Laura falters for a moment.  “I...I read a lot of kids’ books, since I want to write them. Right now I’m...well, it’s part of a series about...feral cats that fight each other.”

“Holy shit! I didn’t know there were books like that!”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” she says, her gaze dropping to the floor. “There are, uh, four Clans, well, five, there used to be five, in the one I’m reading there are five. And they all have their own territories and sometimes they fight because of stealing prey or things like that, but sometimes their medicine cats - um, they’re the healers, basically, they get signs from their ancestors about things that will happen, so they can prepare for…” She trails off. “It’s kind of dumb, but there are a million of them and I’m still into them.”

Objectively, it _does_ sound kind of dumb, but it also sounds like something he probably would’ve read as a kid if he did that sort of thing. Besides, she looked so cute explaining it that he can’t help but find it adorable. “No, no, it sounds cool,” he says quickly. “What are they called?”

“ _Warriors_. There are a shitton of series and multiple generations and I swore to myself I was gonna stop after Firestar died, but then they put out a prequel series and...well.” She grins sheepishly. “Stop me if I’m getting boring. I know it’s weird.”

“You’re not boring, I swear! Who’s Firestar?”

She goes a little pink as she starts to explain the plot of the first six books, and Clint listens to her in fascination until she glances down at her phone and then says, “Shit, I gotta go.  But!  I brought you another.  Thing.  And now it’s also an apology present for making you listen to me run at the mouth about fighting cats.  Here.”  She hands her smaller Build-A-Bear house box to him.

He blinks, confused, and takes it from her, opening it. “Aw, holy shit,” he says, pulling out the sock monkey. “This is adorable.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she says, her blush deepening.  “It reminded me of you.  Because of monkeys being goofy and climbing all over everything and stuff.”

“Thank you,” he says, smiling in what he hopes isn’t a weird way. “I didn’t, I didn’t, um, get you anything…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Laura shrugs cheerfully.  “Make it up to me later?”

“Uh, uh, sure,” Clint replies, in the least cool way ever. “I mean, yeah, I will.”

“Awesome,” she smiles.  “Cool.  Well, I’ll, uh, see you later?  Around?”

“Yeah, yeah! Around. Uh, here. Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Good luck. At work, I mean. Today. And every day.”

“Thank you,” she says.  “You too.  Good luck, uh, at life.”

 

* * *

 

Since Clint finds himself with a half hour until his lunch is over, that means the best course of action is obviously to go to Kay Jewelers.

He doesn’t quite run, but it’s a very dignified fast walk. Then he pauses in the entrance and panics when it suddenly hits him that he has no fucking idea how jewelry works. After a frantic glance around the store - are those _butt necklaces?_ \- he spots Victoria and sprints over to her, yelping “I need a ring!”

Victoria, who is nearing the end of her shift and extremely glad of it, raises an eyebrow.  “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you.”

“I need a ring,” he repeats. “There’s this girl, and she’s so, I mean, she likes, there are cats and they fight, and it’s the cutest fucking thing when she talks about them, and I love her and I need a ring.”

“What in the hell did I do to deserve this,” Victoria mutters under her breath.  Then, louder: “Look, Barton.  I say this as a… person who is friends with some of your friends and will have to hear about the fallout from this.  Cats that fight are not a good reason to propose to someone.”

“But she’s so smart and funny and she’s gorgeous and she got me a sock monkey! She’s perfect.”

“This is the girl you were trying to get to swing on the chandelier with you?” she asks, just for context.

He nods. “Isn’t she the most beautiful girl?”

Well, that’s at least a question she can answer honestly.  “She’s very pretty, but listen, you cannot propose to her. How long have you even known her?”

“Uh. Couple months?”

“Are you even dating her?”

“Not...yet…” He scuffs his foot on the floor. “It doesn’t even have to be an engagement ring, I just wanna give her something nice…”

Victoria sighs.  “The first gift you get her should not come from a jewelry store,” she says, and then, recalling Bobbi’s tale of _that_ failed proposal, corrects, “The first gift you get her should not be jewelry at all.”

“Well, then what?” he asks.

“Don’t ask me,” she exclaims, almost laughing.  “I don’t know the girl.”

“But...you _are_ a girl,” Clint says, face like a confused dog. “You gotta have some ideas. What’d you get your girl for a first gift?”

This time, she actually does laugh.  “I really don’t think you want to know.”

He pouts. “Okay, fine. Can I look at the rings if I promise _not_ to buy one?”

“Look at them online,” she says.  “And then look at something that will clear your head.”  She shoos him away.

He goes, reluctantly, pouting all the way.

 

* * *

 

Victoria has to field questions from her coworkers after Clint makes his exit, but they work in a store that primarily sells engagement rings.  They all know the woes that accompany hopeless romantics and everyone else who has to put up with them.  But when she gets off, it occurs to her that hers is not the only potential target for such a character.

Go figure.

She gets a coffee and takes her time wandering down to David’s Bridal, and once there she lingers in the doorway for a minute watching Bobbi delegate tasks to a few of her sales associates, looking like she’s ready for the day to end.  Only when Bobbi is free does Victoria meander over, all smirks.  “You haven’t had any surprise visitors here today, have you?”

Bobbi groans.  “What Nazis are up to shit now?”

“No Nazis, thankfully,” Victoria says.  “But Mr. Pizza Ring is on the rampage.”

“Say what now?”

“Apparently his new beloved from the candle store was reading a book with fighting cats and that made him fall in love with her, or something,” Victoria shrugs.

“Shit,” Bobbi says.  “Should I have a talk with Laura?  And what do fighting cats have to do with anything?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Victoria says.  “I just wanted to let you know.  If he’s looking to buy a ring, it makes sense that he’d come hovering around the official wedding store too.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Bobbi sighs.  When Victoria doesn’t immediately make excuses and head off, she has to ask, “Did you have another reason for dropping in?”

“No,” Victoria snaps, although she’s eyeing what appear to be tiaras with no small amount of interest.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Victoria hisses.  “Mind your own business, Morse.”  And she turns on her heel to leave.

 

* * *

 

“Bobbi!” Jemma shouts, waving frantically.  “We have a table!”

“No small feat, given this crowd,” Bobbi smirks, sidling through to join the girls.  “Been waiting long?”

Skye shrugs. “Not super long. Ready to be done though.”

“Yeah, I know that one,” Bobbi says.  “I’m sure you were both very competent and polite today, even when people didn’t deserve it.”

Jemma beams.  “I tried to be, anyway.”

“I sort of did,” adds Skye with a smirk. “Close enough.”

“Point is,” Bobbi says, “I think we’re all due a treat.”

“Ooh, yes please,” Jemma hums, sitting up a bit straighter.

Skye raises an eyebrow. “What kind of treat were you thinking?”

“I have three different flavors of Mike’s, a shitton of popcorn, and three horrible but necessary-to-catch-up-on prequels at my place,” Bobbi offers.

“Ooh, sounds fun. You up for it, Jem?”

“I could be convinced,” Jemma says thoughtfully, like she’s daring them to convince her.

Glancing at Bobbi, Skye replies, “I think we can make it worth your while.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Bobbi agrees.  “What time do you two work tomorrow?”

“Not till afternoon,” Jemma says.

“Same,” adds Skye. “Are we going to yours?”

“I figure it’s fair to let the boys have their space tonight,” Bobbi grins.  “C’mon.”

Skye hops to her feet, grinning. “You sure know how to make a girl’s day.”

“I try,” Bobbi chirps.

As they’re walking out, Skye’s holding Jemma’s hand, just like normal. But just before they reach the stairs, she reaches out to take Bobbi’s too, glancing up at Bobbi to make sure it’s okay.

And Bobbi nods, sort of surprising herself.  “Either of you need to stop for anything?”

Jemma shakes her head, and Skye chirps “Nope!”

“Perfect,” Bobbi says, fumbling for her keys.  “All things considered, I managed to get an okay parking spot, huh?”

Jemma nods.  “It’s very decent,” she agrees.  “Parking on Black Friday is one of the reasons I’m gladdest not to have my own car to worry about, honestly.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Skye agrees. “Nice job, Bobbi.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Bobbi says lightly.  “Dare I ask who’s taking shotgun, if either of you?”

“Uh, unless you really want it, can I?” Skye asks Jemma.

“Go for it,” Jemma shrugs.  “I ought to give Fitz a heads-up so he’s not expecting me home.”

“Okay!” And so, after opening Jemma’s door for her, Skye slides into the front seat and immediately begins talking about _Star Wars_.

Which Bobbi was expecting and definitely doesn’t mind, in part because it makes the short car ride even shorter. As they’re heading upstairs to Bobbi’s apartment, they pass Mack, who gives Jemma and Skye a friendly wave and Bobbi an eyeroll.

“Make yourselves at home,” Bobbi croons as they walk in.  “Clothing optional, of course.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Jemma exclaims, running over to the couch to pull her shoes and then pants off.

Skye kicks off her own shoes, then shucks her shirt off. “Bra too?”

“Whatever’s comfortable,” Bobbi shrugs, stripping down to her own lingerie before heading into the kitchen to get the popcorn started.

Jemma deliberates for a moment, then starts folding her jeans and top neatly.  “We can adjust as we see fit,” she declares.

This is an easy concept to agree on, and soon Bobbi is bringing over an impossibly large bowl of popcorn and a six-pack of Mike’s pink.  She gets the movie set up, ranting all the while about the lack of merits of the prequels, and then comes to join the girls on the couch.  “I say we drink every time we want to punch someone,” she declares.

“We’re gonna run out halfway through, and be so drunk,” says Skye with a grin. “Let’s do it.”

They’ve just finished the second movie when Skye pipes up, “Are we dressing up for the prescreening?”

“I figured that was a given,” Bobbi smirks, lazily ruffling Skye’s hair.

“Cool. I wanna do Han. How about you, Jem, you could be slave Leia,” Skye teases.

“In _December?_ ” Jemma exclaims, sounding horrified.

“Well, yeah, I mean. It’d be hot.”

“Exactly the opposite.”


	70. watch from the ground as the gold fluttered down from the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and Melinda go on a date and are interrupted by their nosy friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fencing information gleaned from years-old fuzzy memories and internet research - may not be entirely accurate.

“We only have an hour or so, so I won’t be able to teach you everything today,” teases Sif, “but we’ll at least go through basic footwork, a lunge, maybe a parry.”

“I learn fast,” says Melinda, smirking. She’s holding the saber Sif gave her with the tip resting on the ground, and they’re both wearing uniforms.

“We’ll see.” Sif grins and adds, “The key to fencing is to keep your body relaxed, especially while you’re moving. You tense up, it makes your movements awkward and sloppy, your opponent can get a hit in. Typically you would shift your body weight between the ball of your foot and the heel, and keep your knees bent, like this.” She demonstrates and Melinda copies her.

“Yes. It seems ridiculous, but move around like that for a while, get the feeling of it down.”

Melinda does, and Sif tries hard not to be distracted by how graceful she is. “Good. In a match, it would be like this.” She drops into the stance as well, slowly moving around Melinda so she gets an idea of it. “You wanna try a lunge?”

“Sure.” There’s a challenge in Melinda’s tone. It’s unreasonably attractive.

“Okay, watch me.” Turning to face the same direction as Melinda, Sif demonstrates a basic lunge, moving lightly forward mostly on the balls of her feet. “Remember, stay relaxed.”

Nodding, Melinda puts her saber up and copies the motion, surprisingly well. Or not so surprisingly. Sif is starting to wonder if this woman is bad at anything.

“Not bad,” she says with a wink. “Arm a little looser, though.” Once Melinda’s corrected herself, she adds, “Now how about a feint?”

The hour goes by surprisingly quickly, and Sif’s disappointed when it’s over, even though they’ve still got dinner planned and...well, who knows after that. “I need a shower now,” she jokes. “You can have one too, or just wait for me if you’d rather.”

Melinda steps closer to her, putting her hands on Sif’s waist. “I could,” she murmurs, “ _or_ I could join you.”

Sif somehow wasn’t expecting that, and her eyes go wide for a second. “That would be nice,” she says, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face. “You’re almost irresistible with that saber.”

“Almost? We’ll have to work on that,” purrs Melinda, leaning in to kiss the corner of Sif’s mouth. “I don’t want to be ‘almost’ anything.”

Sif tilts her head to make it a real kiss, and when they break apart she replies, “You may have to persuade me.”

“Oh, I’m very good at that.”

Their hair is still damp when they get in Melinda’s car, and they’re both smirking.

 

* * *

 

Natasha glances casually over at the entrance to Applebee’s (too casually) and says, “Oh, look who’s here” as Melinda and Sif walk in.

“You knew they were going to be here,” Sharon chides, not surprised in the slightest.

“Nothing in life is certain,” replies Natasha.

“But on the chance it was, steering us here _was_ your idea,” Sharon points out.

“Am I missing something?” Kara asks.

“Schoolyard gossip and eavesdropping,” Bobbi shrugs cheerfully.

“Pretty normal stuff,” Natasha adds with a grin.

“And some of us find it more satisfying than just hearing about our friends’ social lives _from_ our friends like normal people do,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes.

Natasha pouts exaggeratedly and says, “I didn’t have schoolyard gossip as a child, I’m making up for lost time.”

“Poor baby,” Sharon coos.

“Besides,” Bobbi says, “it’s more fun now with all the alcohol and actual sex in play.”

Kara wrinkles her nose. “Okay, but I feel like I’m missing something,” she says. “We know they’re an item, so why do we need to spy on the details of their being an item?”

“Mostly just ‘cause I know Mel won’t tell me about it,” replies Natasha. “Plus, I like a challenge.”

“How is this a challenge?” Kara asks.

“Well, you understand that Melinda is ridiculously private, yeah?” Bobbi says.

“Yeah.”

“So, Nat’s right: we’re not going to hear any of the good stuff from the source,” Bobbi summarizes, grinning.

“And I understand being private,” Natasha adds, “but that just feels like a challenge. Mel knows this about me.”

“Huh,” Kara says, shrugging. “I guess that makes sense.”

Sif’s telling Melinda stories about her friends. “...and it didn’t occur to him that not only would the gasoline burn, the rest of the grass would burn just as well,” she says, snickering. “Not to mention, when he tried to put it out with his flip flops, those _melted_.”

Melinda chuckles. “Ah, frat boys. Seems like a miracle all of them survived college.”

“Well, I certainly would’ve expected them to have more serious injuries amongst themselves,” replies Sif. “Thor took most of those, of course, but the other three could be just as foolhardy. And Loki - that he survived _does_ surprise me.”

“They’re all right though, mostly,” Melinda says with a smirk. “Don’t suppose we can do anything about Fandral hitting on me every time he sees me?”

“I suppose I could threaten to hit him again, but I think that’s lost its sting.” Sif pauses, and then adds, “Are you enjoying yourself? With, um, with me?”

“Yes, why?”

“I just want to be...sure,” Sif says, her gaze dropping to the table. “I’m...I like being with you, but I don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened at Halloween, if you don’t want to.”

Melinda reaches to put her hand over Sif’s. “I like being with you too. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Ooh,” Sharon whispers to her tablemates, “how positively scandalous.”

Natasha snorts. “Well, that’s practically a declaration of undying love, from her.”

“You’ve heard a lot of those from her?” Bobbi smirks.

Natasha takes a sip from her beer, and says nothing.

“I think they’re sort of cute,” Kara murmurs.

“Which is especially hilarious considering the fact that they’re both actually terrifying,” Sharon says wryly.

Natasha grins. “Please. Sif’s a huge dork. Mel is too, if you can get past all the layers of dry wit and misanthropy. They’re perfect for each other.”

“Plus, they’re both ridiculously hot,” Bobbi muses.

“You have great technique,” Sif says to Melinda. “I love watching you move, it’s ridiculously hot.”

“Well, you’re a good teacher,” Melinda counters playfully. “I like having you in control.”

“Shit,” Bobbi murmurs, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Shit_ ,” Kara whispers, her eyes wide.

Sif smirks. “Seems like you were the one in control in the shower. Don’t tell me you put yourself through an entire fencing lesson for that.”

“No, but it seemed appropriate.” Melinda’s smile is just slightly wicked. “I certainly wouldn’t object if we made it a habit.”

Natasha nudges Sharon. “You have to be enjoying this at least a little.”

Sharon shrugs noncommittally.

“No need to suddenly play the shocked auntie,” Bobbi teases.

“I feel like this is a romance novel,” Kara murmurs.

“Made which part a habit, the shower or me being in control?” Sif says, raising an eyebrow.

Melinda shrugs coyly. “We couldn’t take turns? I think that sounds fun.”

Sif, unaccustomed to Melinda laying it on quite so thick, stares at her and her mouth drops open. “Er, I do too,” she says quickly, trying to recover. “Taking turns is, ah. Fair. Yes.”

“I think we should start when we’re done here,” says Melinda.

Sif nods, trying to keep it from being too frantic. “That sounds good, yes. Very...good.”

“Oh my god,” Sharon whispers.

“Oh, you _do_ care,” murmurs Natasha, pressing a kiss to Sharon’s neck.

Sharon huffs, mostly because she can’t be too mad when she’s being touched like that. “It’s… they’re acting all…”

“Awkwardly written softcore porn?” Bobbi supplies.

Sharon and Kara lock eyes, impossibly flustered.

“I’d be more specific if we were somewhere private,” murmurs Melinda, tilting her head ever so slightly toward the table of eavesdroppers (who she’s been aware of since they arrived, of course).

Sif, who’s starting to pick up on Melinda’s subtle body language and microexpressions, gets the hint and nods. “I look forward to it,” she says, winking at Melinda because, well, why not?

At this point, Bobbi makes a face. “Figures I would have to run to the ladies’ at a time like this.”

“We’ll keep notes,” Kara says, only halfway kidding.

So Bobbi slips away from the table and dashes for the restroom, not wanting to miss any more of this than she has to. Melinda glances over, sees Bobbi leaving, and excuses herself to follow her.

“Morse,” she says, leaning against the bathroom door once Bobbi’s finished her business, “I know what you’re doing.”

Bobbi takes her sweet time washing her hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You and your table full of snoops are spying on me.”

Bobbi sighs airily. “You’re imagining that.”

“Please. I’m not deaf.” Melinda rolls her eyes. “I can hear you gossiping about me. Plus Nat’s been badgering me for details for the past week. It’s no coincidence she shows up at the same restaurant we do.”

“So what are you gonna do about it, then?”

Melinda stares at her for a long moment before straightening up. “I am going to enjoy my goddamn date,” she says, opening the door.

 

* * *

 

“You ought to come try out some time, if you’re interested,” Sharon suggests. “Most of us start out only halfway knowing what we’re doing on skates, we’ll teach you.”

Kara blushes and concentrates on her margarita for a moment. “It seems really cool,” she agrees. “I don’t think I’m exactly in fighting condition yet - skating condition, whatever - but maybe, maybe I’ll give it some thought. It could be fun. And I like the idea of having a team.”

“That’s one of the nicest parts,” Sharon nods. “Derby girls have each other’s backs.”

“Well,” Bobbi announces, returning to the table and flopping back in her seat. “Mel’s onto us.”

“Are you surprised?” Sharon asks.

Natasha snorts. “If she wasn’t by this point, I’d be more worried than surprised.”

“She’s not mad, is she?” Kara frets.

“Hardly,” Bobbi says. “She didn’t seem exactly amused by it, but she also didn’t seem like she was particularly put out. More like she found it inevitable.”

“‘Cause it is,” replies Natasha, grinning. “She’s known me for long enough, she’s used to this.”

“Meaning you being nosy?” Sharon teases, nudging Natasha’s shoulder.

“I’m not _nosy_ , I’m interested in my friend’s lives.” Natasha drops her head onto Sharon’s shoulder.

“Ah, yes,” Sharon says knowingly. “You do this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Naturally.”

Kara’s phone, currently over by the ketchup bottle, buzzes and she murmurs, “Just a second, might be important.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bobbi shrugs cheerfully.

“Holy shit,” Kara coos once she’s got her message opened, and she passes it around the table to show its contents: a photo of a dalmatian puppy.

“I can guess who sent that to you,” says Natasha, smiling fondly.

“Yeah,” Kara giggles. “He’s been texting me possible candidates for a canine best friend all week, and it’s sort of messing with me, I mean they’re all so precious I want to take them all. But there’s other factors I have to consider, practically, so I’m trying to keep my cool.”

“An admirable effort,” Sharon smiles. “I assume the place you’re looking at is dog-friendly?”

Kara nods. “But I’m still not sure if it’s going to go through,” she says. “So I don’t want to fall too in love with anyone until I’m settled. I don’t imagine spare bedroom-hopping is something that would be great for a dog.”

“Practical,” says Natasha with an approving nod. “Not that James would let you take a dog you weren’t ready for. He’s very protective of them.”

“That’s kind of what I’m getting,” Kara smirks. “It’s sweet.”

“He’s a sweet guy,” Sharon says.

“Do you know what you _are_ looking for, then?” Bobbi asks, because she may not know much about dogs but she’s interested in the context of the conversation.

“Not a puppy, probably,” Kara says. “I don’t really have the time or energy to train them well, and I don’t want to be responsible for messing them up.”

“James would help you train it, I’m sure. But it’s good to know what you’re not comfortable with,” says Natasha.

Kara shrugs. “Hell, I’m still retraining myself, that’s enough responsibility.”

Bobbi frowns at that choice of words, though she understands the meaning. “Well, good luck,” she says instead.

 

* * *

 

“I haven’t had my dating life so scrutinized since college,” murmurs Sif with a smirk.

Melinda chuckles. “Nat does this with everyone, but I think she amps it up for me. She likes a challenge, and I’m happy to give her one.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that sounded suggestive.”

“Not for her.” Melinda raises an eyebrow. “For you, if you want it to be.”

Sif blinks. “I...yes, I want that. Please. Er, I…”

“It’s cute that you get so flustered,” teases Melinda.

“You’re good at it,” replies Sif, grinning a little shyly. “Most people aren’t.”

“Lucky me.”


	71. you were all just perfect little satellites spinning round and round this broken earthly life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis and Ana host a Hanukkah party - although at points the festivities are less Hanukkah-oriented than intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are not Jewish, although we attempted to do research and be respectful. Apologies if anything we have written is incorrect; please let us know and we will correct it.
> 
> Consequences is a real game, albeit with more complicated variants than the one we've included here, and very enjoyable.
> 
> And regarding Fitz, well. It's canonical extrapolation at its finest.

“‘Sup, Jarvis,” says Peter as he and his entourage enter the house.

“Mr. Parker, always a pleasure,” says Jarvis with a small smile. “You have brought an...assortment, haven’t you?”

“Is that all right?” Jemma asks, frowning.

“Oh, of course! We enjoy having a full house for parties. It simply caught me off guard.” Jarvis glances over the bunch, which includes Gwen, Skye, Jemma, Trip, and Fitz. “I hope I’m not rude in assuming that none of you are practicing?”

Fitz shrugs as he pulls off his shoes. “My dad was Jewish on his mum’s side, and he taught me to read a bit of Hebrew and some of the traditional stuff. I haven’t thought about it in years, though, not until Peter said something.”

“I just like parties!” chimes in Skye. She sticks out her hand cheerfully. “Skye, hacker extraordinaire.”

Ana reaches for Skye’s hand, smirking. “Is that so?”

“Yup! I can get pretty much any information you need.” Skye waves her hand around at her friends. “Jemma, Trip, and Fitz.”

“Yes, hello,” Jemma says brightly. “I brought baked goods, is that all right?”

“More than! You can set them over there,” replies Jarvis, pointing to the table. “And I’ll take your fellow’s coat,” he says, as Fitz is looking bewildered as to what to do with the coat on his arm.

Jemma wrinkles her nose, mumbling, “Oh, dear” and heading to the table of food so her hosts can’t see she’s about to start laughing.

“Her _what?_ ” Fitz yelps, looking taken aback.

“Oh dear,” says Jarvis, frowning, “have I guessed wrong? I’m terribly sorry.”

Skye snickers before answering, “I mean, yeah, but it’s okay. That one belongs to me,” she says, nodding at Jemma.

“And I’m his,” says Fitz, leaning into Trip as Trip comes up behind him to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Silly, ridiculous husband,” Ana says fondly, tapping Jarvis on the nose. “I’ve told him more than once that he should be careful about such things.”

“Assumptions and all that,” Jarvis adds, embarrassed. “Anyhow, lovely to meet you all, and lovely to see you as always, Mr. Parker and Ms. Stacy. Please help yourself to the refreshments, dinner isn’t quite ready yet.” As if on cue, a timer dings and he bolts for the kitchen.

Pietro dashes over and grins. “Hello! Nice to see you here.”

“Yes, my dad taught me some of the traditional whatnot and I decided to participate,” says Fitz.

“Oh, I know. I was listening,” replies Pietro. “Come, have a doughnut. They’re very good!”

Wanda ambles over and smiles shyly. “Hello.”

“Hey!” Trip grins. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yes. Pietro is right, the doughnuts are very good.” Wanda gestures to the table.

“Oh!” Jemma chirps. “Thank you. I… they’re traditional, yes? I may have done a bit of reading.”

Wanda nods. “ _Sufganiyot._ Our father used to make them - Mother would try sometimes, but hers were never quite right.”

From the corner of the living room, Raina calls out, “Fancy seeing you here!”

Fitz yelps. “Er. Hello? What are you…?”

“Little sis invited me,” Raina shrugs, nodding nonchalantly at Wanda.

Skye blinks. “Huh. Okay. How’re you doing?”

“I’m all right,” Raina says. “I like this time of year. Everything’s a little bit _more_ , you know?”

“Not exactly,” Jemma says, tilting her head, “but I think I can guess, I… guess.”

Raina doesn’t respond, but she smiles coyly, tossing her hair. (In deference to the hosts’ holiday, what’s pinned in her hair is a shimmery silver rose.)

Skye smiles back at her and then, in an effort to not make things weird, she glances around until she makes eye contact with a girl sitting on the couch, a little awkward. “Hey,” Skye calls with a wave. “‘Sup?”

The girl bounces to her feet, extending a hand. “Not much. I’m Kitty!”

“Skye.” Skye shakes her hand as best she can, then turns to the rest of her group. “Jemma’s sneaking cookies there, and that’s Trip and Fitz.”

“I am not _sneaking_ ,” Jemma says indignantly. “I’m enjoying the refreshments provided, presumably, by our hosts.” To prove this, she makes eye contact with Ana and says, “These are wonderful, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ana replies, looking very amused.

Trip takes Kitty’s hand and smiles at her. “Pleasure to meet you. What kind of stuff do you do?”

“Oh, y’know, computer stuff. I work at Bits 'N Bytes, near the center of town? I’d like to do design work, but that’s kinda hard to get into, especially if, well.” She gestures vaguely to herself. “Not exactly the kind of person you’d expect to be good with computers. But I’m working on it, anyway. How about you?”

“At Nordstrom at the moment,” he says with a shrug. “Philosophy major, so not super marketable, but I make do.”

“Well, I think you’re brilliant,” says Fitz loyally, grabbing his hand.

“Fitz and I go to school with Peter and Gwen,” Jemma explains. “Still toiling away, or whatever people say that’s meant to imply they don’t like schoolwork.”

Fitz tilts his head. “But Jem, _you_ like schoolwork.”

“Yes, I know that,” Jemma mumbles. “I was trying for irony, or at least self-deprecation. Apparently that still needs improving.”

“Little bit,” says Skye, kissing her cheek, “but it’s okay, you’re adorable.” Then she adds, to Kitty, “Computer dudes are dumb and annoying. It sucks. I work at the Apple Store and you’ve never heard patronizing like Mac fanboys.”

Kitty snorts. “I can imagine.”

There’s a knock on the door, which prompts Ana to go and play hostess. “Darcy,” she exclaims, trying not to laugh. “You’ve brought two guests this time. And you’re wearing a tutu.”

“Figured I might as well get more use out of the Hanukkah Fairy,” Darcy grins. “You remember Ian, and this is Rogue.”

“Hey,” says Rogue, grinning and lifting a hand.

“Welcome,” Ana says. “We’re still waiting for everyone to arrive, although I can’t imagine there’s going to be much of an organized aspect. We don’t get the cartoon holiday stories.”

Rogue chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so.” She glances over toward the couch. “Hey, Kit.”

“Hey!” Kitty gives her a wave and then goes back to talking with Skye about coding.

Darcy sidles over to Jemma and the boys, grinning. “Is one of you a secret Jew or are you just tagging along with, I’m guessing Peter?”

Fitz coughs. “My, ah, my dad is Jewish and he sort of taught me some of the traditional whatnot. We’re not really a religious bunch though.”

“Gotcha,” Darcy nods. “For me it’s more cultural than religious, but it’s always struck me as really interesting. Plus, we don’t do original sin, so that’s pretty cool.”

“And really much more logical,” Jemma agrees. “I’ve never been good at the faith thing, believing something I’ve got no way of knowing for true, but this isn’t a discussion about my vague atheism, it’s meant to be a discussion of - Judaism makes a bit more sense. Yes.”

“It’s cute when she rambles,” Darcy says to Skye.

“Isn’t it?” Skye replies, almost smugly.

Shyly, Ian lifts his hand and waves as he calls, “Hey, Wanda. You added to your arm, right? It looks wonderful.”

“Yes!” Wanda smiles and holds out her arm to show him. A still-healing, watercolor-style comet in shades of red, orange and yellow decorates her upper arm. “It will look better when it heals fully,” she says, almost apologetically. “But I like it.”

“Dude, it’s awesome,” Darcy agrees, coming over to look. “I admire your dedication.”

“Thank you. I am looking forward to when it’s done.”

“Anyone for latkes?” calls Jarvis, holding a plate full of food.

 

* * *

 

“Have you told anyone here about what happened at Halloween with Tony?” Wanda asks Vanessa.

Vanessa snorts in a most unladylike way and idly stirs her drink. “It’s a very silly story,” she says, which is an invitation for someone who hasn’t heard it to say they want to.

Kitty giggles (she’s had most of her first cocktail) and says, “I like silly stories!”

“Very well,” Vanessa murmurs, rolling her eyes flirtatiously. “Naturally, it was a dress-up party, but I couldn’t be bothered to go looking for a costume and I wouldn’t let that synthetic garbage from the costume store touch my skin anyway, so I threw on an old gown that had been gathering dust in the back of my closet.”

“ _That_ was just sitting around in the back of your closet?” Skye asks, eyes wide. She may not know much about dresses, but she knows fancy shit when she sees it.

“Gift from an old friend,” Vanessa shrugs, and she notices Raina silently toast her from the corner. “My intention had just been to show up in the dress and be masquerading as _of the era_ , but not ten minutes after I got there, sweet Christine asked me what I was dressed up as. I told her I wasn’t anything in particular, and she suggested I make up who I was supposed to be, see if anyone noticed. A fun little social experiment.”

“If I had known about this, I would have recorded the results,” says Wanda, grinning. “It sounds fascinating.”

“Yvonne Clifford the movie star,” Vanessa giggles. “Trademarks, allure and sarcasm, like so many of the Golden Age women. It wasn’t hard to come up with. Some people got the joke, some needed prompting, but then there was Tony, claiming ignorance about all old films as if it was some mark of pride, so I didn’t bother to let him in on it.”

“He still doesn’t know,” Darcy interrupts, eyes wide and grinning. “His embarrassment was beautiful.”

Jarvis blinks. “Oh dear. It’s a wonder I haven’t heard about this.”

“He knows there was a joke in there somewhere, you see, but he still hasn’t figured it out,” Vanessa says. “It’s so fun to take apart egos like that.”

“I should say that is cruel,” says Thor with a chuckle, “and it is, a bit, but it’s also very funny. Stark needs to be reminded that his ego is not the most important thing in the room, at times. I think I will get another drink, does anyone else want one?”

“Please?” Darcy and Jane chorus.

Thor nods and, since he knows what they like, doesn’t bother to ask, just turns to go to the kitchen.

“Do you have any, er, traditional whatnot planned?” Fitz asks Jarvis. “Doesn’t matter if not, I just wondered mostly.”

“We do have a dreidel,” Jarvis says. “I know it’s a bit childish, but…”

“We should play with _shots_ ,” Darcy exclaims.

“ _No_ ,” Jane yelps.

“ _Yes!_ ” says Skye eagerly.

“Half-shots, let’s say,” Ana offers, shrugging cheerfully.

Jarvis chuckles. “Very well. I’ll get the glasses.”

“You two are horrible influences outside of school,” Sarah, leaning back in an armchair, says fondly. “It’s cute.”

“Everyone here is a responsible adult, mostly,” Ana replies.

Once Jarvis has the shotglasses arranged and poured out (one for each person), he explains, “I’ve reworked the rules a little, as we only have so many shotglasses and it’s unhealthy to do more than three shots in a row, no matter what Mr. Stark used to tell me.” He picks up the dreidel and, as he names the sides, he turns it so everyone can see. “If you roll _nun,_ nothing happens. _Gimel_ is one full shot, _hay_ is a half-shot, _shin_ we’ll...pour a new shot, I suppose, although we’ll quickly run out of the appropriate-sized glasses.”

“We’ll have the empties,” Ana shrugs, “and I can go over and wash them out if anyone is squeamish.”

“I’ll demonstrate.” Jarvis gives the dreidel a spin and lands on _gimel_. “Ah, one shot for me.” He does, looking a bit startled immediately after. “Been quite some time since I’ve done anything like this.”

“You’re charming,” Ana assures him, taking the dreidel. “Luckily for all of you, I’ll be refilling that. We could just have everyone keep their glasses once they take them the first time, too.”

“Yes, I think that might be ideal.”

Wanda, who’s next to her, rolls _nun_ and looks disappointed. Pietro takes a shot and grins. “I like this version,” he says cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

They’ve gone a few rounds and everyone is good and tipsy when Kitty yelps “Let’s play Consequences!”

“What’s that?” Jane asks.

“I’ll explain as we go,” she says with a grin. “We’re gonna need enough pieces of paper so everyone gets one, and some pencils or something.”

Jarvis nods and goes to retrieve them.

“Is it a drawing game?” Fitz asks, looking a bit nervous.

“No, it’s...sort of storytelling. You’ll see.”

Once Jarvis has passed out paper and pens, Kitty says, “Now everybody write down a guy’s name on the first line of the paper. Living, dead, historical, fictional, imaginary, whatever.”

Everyone does, then she says “Now fold it over so no one can see what you’ve written, and pass it to your left. Then write down a girl’s name, same deal.”

When that’s done, she continues, “Fold, pass, then write down the name of a place. Then, again, and what he said. Anything at all.”

There’s a round of snickers as they do.

“Then, what she said.”

Louder snickers.

“Then what happened as a result of that. And then what was the moral of the story.”

After a few minutes, everyone is finished and looks at her expectantly.

“And now we read them! I’ll start.” Kitty unfolds her paper and then reads, “A meninist met Titania the fairy queen at an eighteenth century orgy-” Here she pauses because she’s giggling too hard. “He said, ‘My hovercraft is full of eels,’ she said ‘Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries,’ everyone went for a walk. The moral is, you will get pregnant and die.”

“I love this fucking game,” Darcy exclaims. Peter and Gwen, who evidently provided the Monty Python quotes, fistbump.

Wanda reads her sheet next. “Remus Lupin met Sarah Jane Smith at Valhalla. He said, ‘Erm,’ she said, ‘It’s going down, I’m yelling timber,’ the police chief ordered an autopsy. The moral is, white people should think twice before dancing the hula.” She sounds both perplexed and amused.

“Well,” says Jarvis, who looks a bit shocked (but also as if he’s stifling a laugh), “I think we’ve rather strayed from the original intentions for this party.”

“I think the original intentions for this party were to have fun that was vaguely Hanukkah-themed,” Ana teases him. “We’ve certainly got the vaguely part down.”

“Well, shall we at least light the menorah for the first night?” he asks.

“I think we should leave it up to the children,” Ana smirks, turning to the group.

Darcy, whose head is lolling against Ian’s shoulder and whose hand is resting on Rogue’s thigh, exclaims, “Please let’s light the menorah?”

“It is getting to be about that time,” Jane, who’s contentedly leaning against Thor, agrees.

Peter nods, grinning. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Ana looks around the circle and lets her gaze settle on Wanda. “Would you like to light the candles?” she asks, smiling.

Eyes wide, Wanda nods. She takes the lighter Ana offers her, and stands up to walk over to where the menorah is displayed. All concentration, she picks up the tall candle in the center of the menorah and lights it, reciting, “ _Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam, asher kidishanu b'mitz'votav v'tzivanul'had'lik neir shel Chanukah.”_

“ _Amein,_ ” says Ana and the members of the group who have done this before.

There’s a short, respectful pause before Wanda continues. “ _Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam she'asah nisim la'avoteinu bayamim haheim baziman hazeh.”_

“ _Amien._ ”

“ _Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam shehecheyanu v'kiyimanu v'higi'anu laz'man hazeh._ ”

“ _Amien._ ”

Wanda then uses the candle to light the leftmost candle before putting it back in the center. There’s another long pause before she turns to Ana, looking worried. “Did I do all right?”

“You did very well,” Ana reassures her. “Your father would be proud.”

Wanda beams, glancing over at Pietro, who is also smiling.

“It’s lovely,” says Thor, grinning widely as everyone watches the candlelight create new shadows on the wall.


	72. I came in like the wise men, ask you to take my gift of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a holiday party, ostensibly to watch Christmas movies, but mostly to try to spend time with Laura. Most of the other guests know exactly what's going on.

“Ho ho ho,” says Natasha dryly as she enters Clint’s apartment, lugging a tall, thin cardboard box.

“Uh, hi? What are you doing?” Clint blinks.

“Giving you your Christmas present early,” she says nonchalantly. “Didn’t you wonder about why I told you we were getting here like an hour early?”

“Well, yeah, but I figured that was so we could hang out and stuff. What _is_ that?”

Steve comes through the door, toting another larger box. “Your Christmas present, like Natasha just said.”

“Well, presents,” Sharon amends cheerfully, setting her box (akin to Natasha’s) on the floor at the soonest possible opportunity.

“Do you have wood glue?” Natasha asks as she turns to go to the door. “I mean, I already know the answer, but in the extremely slim chance you do.”

“Why would I need wood glue?”

“Thought so. I’ve got some in the car,” Natasha calls over her shoulder as she leaves.

Clint tilts his head and walks over to inspect one of the long thin boxes. DOLCE DINING CHAIRS (2) it says. “Did you guys buy me...chairs?” he asks.

“Yeah,” calls Bucky as he and Sam struggle through the door with the last box. “Chairy Christmas!”

“Nat’s gonna kill you,” snickers Sam. “She wanted to say that so bad.”

Bucky shrugs. “She should’ve said it when she was here.”

“But... _why_ did you buy me chairs?” Clint’s aware he sounds like a broken record, but he’s confused.

“Look around,” Sharon drawls, nodding at the largely empty room. “Tis the season for recognizing obvious deficiencies in our friends’ apartments.”

“Recognizing and remedying,” Steve says, trying to make it sound like it’s not an insult (it’s not, exactly, but it’s not _not_ an insult, either).

“Oh.” They’re not _wrong._ His apartment is...sparse. “Well, uh, thank you. Thanks a lot, you guys. It’s really, um, nice of you.”

“Chairy Christmas!” Natasha calls as she comes back into the apartment.

“Beat you to it,” says Bucky, sticking his tongue out.

She glares daggers. “Why would you do that, you asshole?”

“‘Cause it’s funny.”

“You better damn well make up for it later,” she growls, then turns back to Clint. “Anyway, yeah, these are yours and we’re here to put them together so people actually have chairs to sit on.”

He grins and shrugs. “You never got prissy about folding chairs before.”

“Oh, I’m not. But your girl might be,” she teases.

“She’s not my girl! I mean. Yet.” He coughs. “Besides, she’s not gonna care about what she’s sitting on. She’s cool.”

“Two of these are recliners,” Sam chimes in, “and they’ve got enough room for two or three people. Y’know, in case this goes well for you.”

Well, _that’s_ a decent argument if he’s ever heard one.

“Anyway,” Steve says diplomatically, “if you’re going to be having social events like this more often, it’s probably polite to have more than one place to sit.”

“Guess so.” Clint shrugs. “D’you guys know how to put these together?”

“They’re gonna have instructions,” Sharon points out. “We’re not too fancy to buy you pre-assembled chairs, but we’re not too devil-may-care to buy you ones that won’t explain themselves. And we’re not horrible enough to buy you explaining chairs from Nazi Town.”

Clint laughs. “Appreciated. So I guess we better...get started?”

It ends up being the boys doing most of the chair assembly, because Natasha sneaks off to the kitchen and drags Sharon with her to do refreshments. Sam tries to follow them, but she shoos him out (“you’re too healthy, Wilson”). They do take the opportunity to wolf-whistle at the boys every time they bend over, though. Clint gives Natasha withering glares.

“What?” Sharon asks, feigning innocence. “We’re just being appreciative.”

“I know,” says Clint with a roll of her eyes. “I get it, ‘s just annoying.”

“Sorry on behalf of all men,” says Bucky with a wry smile. “Sometimes we suck.”

“Yeah,” Natasha replies, “but you’re hot anyway. I mean, except you, Clint, but apparently Laura’s into it, so whatever.”

Clint huffs indignantly and concentrates on pouring glue into the appropriate hole in the chair seat and ignoring her entirely.

Eventually, all of the chairs are assembled (give or take a few glue spills, hell, it’s quick-drying) and arranged around the room and they’re sitting around talking when someone buzzes the intercom. “I’ll get it!” chirps Natasha, going to unlock the front door. After a few moments Laura enters.

“Hi!” she exclaims, waving eagerly. “I brought alcohol! And might I say, I’m so glad that we’re not the first ones here, that’s always so silly.”

“We?” Clint asks, the smile on his face slipping a little into a confused frown.

“Yeah, we,” Bobbi echoes, strolling in swinging a bag containing a bottle of wine just a bit too casually. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Uh, no,” he says, trying to fend off the impending panic while still seeming cool and collected. “So are you guys...together...or…?”

Bobbi smirks. “I’m afraid I’m otherwise spoken for this evening, and lovely Laura is a one-someone kind of someone.”

Clint gulps and his eyes get wide before he says, “Um. Do you guys want anything? There’s, um, stuff in the kitchen, Nat put out...some stuff…”

“We brought a couple bags of chips, Sharon made cookies, and there’s a shitton of alcohol,” Natasha interjects, saving Clint from himself. “Help yourselves.”

“Goody,” Bobbi deadpans. “A feast for champions.” But, sensing it wouldn’t be nice to embarrass Clint any more just now, she goes toward the kitchen to start stocking up on carbohydrates.

“Hey,” says Clint to Laura, awkwardly.

“Hey,” Laura replies. “Nice chairs.”

“Oh, thanks, they’re, uh, pretty new,” he says, shooting a thankful glance at Steve. “You can take the recliner over there if you want it.”

“I’m going to, uh, put these…” She lifts her Christmas-themed six-pack of beer. “In the kitchen. And then bring one of them back. With food. But then, yes. The recliner.”

“Cool.” He nods.

“So,” Sharon says, trying to bridge the conversational gap, “what movies are we watching?”

“I was gonna start with _Die Hard,_ ‘cause y’know,” Clint says. “Then I guess maybe _Elf_? I have a couple options.”

“Enlighten those of us who might not know,” Bobbi calls from the kitchen.

Clint shrugs. “I mean, it’s set during Christmas. It takes place at a Christmas party. And it’s awesome.”

Natasha’s on door duty and lets in more people, who turn out to be Melinda and Sif. “Hey, Nat,” says Melinda with a nod. Natasha smirks at her and returns the nod, staring at their joined hands. Melinda keeps a completely straight face.

“Oh, you’re holding hands!” says Clint, who doesn’t know the meaning of subtlety. “That’s nice.”

Sif snorts and Laura giggles. “Grown-ups do that sometimes,” she says very wisely.

“I mean, I just.” Clint decides to quit while he’s almost ahead. “Booze and cookies and stuff in the kitchen, and - hey, I should put out mine too.” Hopping up from his chair, he heads in the direction of the fridge.

Sif waves at Bobbi. “How are you?”

“Not as good as you, I’m guessing,” Bobbi smirks. “I have to say, I’m kind of surprised to see you two here.”

Shrugging, Sif says, “Mel mentioned it and I thought it sounded fun.”

“Well,” Steve says grandly, “please, help yourselves to these chairs we’ve just put together!”

“Thanks,” Melinda replies, smiling slightly as they take a pair of chairs next to each other.

Bruce and Mack arrive next, also holding hands. “Hey!” calls Mack. “Not late, are we?”

“Nah, people are still coming, we’ll give ‘em a few more minutes before we start the movie.” Clint gestures toward the kitchen. “There’s drinks and stuff. I made Christmas cookies.”

Bruce sits down in a chair and Mack slips over to Bobbi and asks quietly, “Should we even try to eat those cookies?”

“There’s about a fifty-fifty chance they’ll be edible,” Bobbi shrugs. “Might as well humor him.”

Mack chuckles. “Okay.” He ambles over to the kitchen and grabs one of the suspicious bell-shaped cookies, taking a bite. He chews for what seems like too long and then swallows and shrugs.

“You’re a good friend,” says Bruce when Mack comes back to join him.

“Friend is one word for it.”

Maria and Maya show up a few minutes later, also holding hands. Maria’s hearing her POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS scarf. “‘Sup,” she calls.

“What’s the crime?” Laura teases.

“Excessive attractiveness,” Maya deadpans. “Where’s the alcohol, I need to make myself forget I said that.”

“Were you just waiting to use that?” teases Maria.

“No,” Maya says, “I… if I had been planning it it wouldn’t have been that awkward. Let’s go with that.”

Maria snorts. “Sure, Hansen, whatever you say. C’mon, let’s find booze.”

“You’re both gross,” Bobbi shouts in their direction.

“Jesus, I didn’t know about any of this,” comments Clint.

“Surprise,” Sif says dryly.

“No one was surprised,” Sharon snarks quietly, leaning against Natasha’s shoulder.

Skye and Jemma enter without knocking, holding pillows. “Hey guys!” Skye says, grinning. Trip and Fitz are right on their heels.

“Holy shit,” Bobbi exclaims, snorting ungracefully.

“You learned your lesson, I guess?” Sharon offers. Natasha snickers.

Skye shrugs. “I mean, his floor is hard and my ass is delicate.”

“But look, actual chairs!” yelps Fitz. Then, looking chagrined, he quickly adds, “Erm, I mean...er…”

“Yeah, somebodies made themselves the Chair Committee,” says Clint with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

Jemma promptly flounces over and drops her pillow right next to where Bobbi is sitting, giggling. “I’m glad we haven’t missed anything,” she says. “I was beginning to worry we were late.”

“Told you,” says Skye teasingly as she ambles over to sit on the other side of Bobbi. “We’re fine.” Fitz and Trip sit (purposefully) on the other side of the room.

“Good evening, Bobbi,” Jemma says sweetly, beaming in a way that means she expects a kiss, and it’s so adorable and arrogant that Bobbi provides one immediately. When Skye makes a noise, she turns to kiss her as well, and they’re all smug as can be.

Clint watches this series of events, his eyes getting wider and wider. This only makes Bobbi grin even wider and drape an arm around both girls. Clint gulps and averts his eyes.

“Comfy?” Natasha asks Bobbi slyly.

“I’m incredibly comfy,” Bobbi retorts cheerfully, rolling her eyes.

The next knock on the door is really more of a gentle tap, but Natasha hears it anyway and opens it. “Hey,” Kara says, smiling sheepishly. “We’re not late, are we?”

“No, you’re just fine,” reassures Natasha.

“Oh, I’m glad,” Kara murmurs, and as she enters the apartment Raina seems to materialize behind her and follow her, grinning like the cat that ate the proverbial canary.

If this were a cartoon, Clint’s eyes would have literally popped out of his head.

“Hello, bird boy,” Raina croons, drifting toward the kitchen. “Can ghosts do this?”

“I don’t think so,” he croaks. Then, before she can do anything else unnerving, he dives for the DVD case on top of the TV stand and yelps, “Movie time!”

Although, truth be told, much as he loves _Die Hard_ he has seen it about a hundred times, so after a while he starts to look around at the other people instead. Or, to be more specific, Laura. He’s definitely not _staring_ , but he is...watching, kind of. She’s in the middle of a spirited conversation with Melinda and Sif about football something or other (sports are not his strong suit), and he can only hear little snatches of the conversation but she looks awfully cute.

“Bobbi?” Jemma asks in a whisper, making a face. “Am I imagining things or are you spying on your ex?”

“I’m not spying, I’m observing,” Bobbi replies. “Another thing I’m observing is that my lap is empty and that doesn’t have to be the case.”

Giggling, Jemma rearranges herself so her head is on Bobbi’s lap. She wasn’t trying to watch the movie anyway. “So what are you observing about your ex?” she presses.

“Well, he’s sure staring at that girl,” Skye says. She moves so that her head is resting on Bobbi’s shoulder.

“I honestly think the only reason he invited everyone over is so he had a reason to invite her over,” Bobbi explains softly, smirking.

Skye snickers. “ _That_ makes sense. So how did he ask you out, anyway? Y’know, way back when?”

“With a boombox,” Bobbi says.

“ _No_ ,” Jemma exclaims.

“Yes,” Bobbi sighs. “In full view of everyone who happened to walk by while I was on my way to Japanese. It was ridiculous.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Skye. “And then you felt like you had to say yes, huh?”

“No, but I felt like if I did say yes it might shut him up,” Bobbi smirks. “I wouldn’t have kept seeing him if he wasn’t amusing in his way.”

“He must have been at least satisfactory… otherwise,” Jemma suggests.

“Or something,” adds Skye.

“Or something,” Bobbi agrees. “It worked for a while, then it didn’t. You two are kind of the exception to the rule, you know.” She pauses. “That goes for the rule about my prolonged interest as well as the one about relationships between babies that actually stand a chance.”

“Thank you,” Jemma chirps, nuzzling against Bobbi’s thigh.

There’s a buzz from downstairs and Natasha, looking a bit puzzled, lets whoever it is in. Which turns out to be a tall, pale dark-haired woman wearing a leather jacket and looking mildly sullen, a smartly-dressed blonde woman, and an even taller dark-skinned black man with a goatee and way too many muscles. “Hey,” grunts the dark-haired woman. “Told you we’d show, Steve.”

“Hi!” Steve calls, scrambling up to greet them. “Can I get your coats or anything?”

“Yeah, thanks,” says the other woman, and the man grins as they both shrug off their coats. The brunette woman doesn’t, just glances around until she spots Clint. “You’re the guy who lives here, right? Where’s the booze?”

Clint blinks, not least because he was _totally_ not wondering what kind of perfume Laura wears because whatever it is it smells amazing. “Uh, yeah, kitchen. Who are you?”

“I’m Jessica. This is Trish and Luke.” Jessica gestures to her companions. “Steve invited us. Hope that’s okay.” She moves toward the kitchen, clearly not planning on leaving if it isn’t okay.

“Yeah...the more the merrier,” Clint replies, still looking a bit stunned.

Trish rolls her eyes. “What Jess _means_ is, thank you for inviting us and where should we sit?”

“Probably the floor,” says Natasha with a shrug. “Big crowd, not a lot of chairs.”

“That’s okay,” says Luke, situating himself on the floor and grabbing Trish’s hand to gently pull her down next to him. “We’re used to making room wherever.”

Kara, who’s perched on what appears to be an empty shelf, offers a smile. “I, uh, I haven’t seen you around, I don’t think?”

“We just moved here,” says Trish. “Jess works at the art store in the mall, Luke bartends, and I’m a hostess at Applebee’s. Steve goes to the art store and he told her about this party. ‘Course, the free booze was enough to convince her,” she adds with a wry smile.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always saying I need to make more friends,” replies Jessica as she comes over to sit next to them, holding a cup. “Look, I made friends.” She gestures to the room before taking a long drink.

“Do you know their names?” teases Luke.

“I know Steve’s name. Those must be Steve’s boyfriends and girlfriends. Uh, Shannon, and Natasha…” Jessica shrugs after a few seconds. “I’m making an effort.”

“Sharon,” calls Sharon, “but close enough. Better than Shari. But then again, you’re not a forty-year-old man who thinks he’s being chummy, so.”

Jessica snorts. “Yeah, those are always fun to deal with. And the other two…?”

“Sam!” says Sam cheerfully. “And Bucky’s over there.” He nods to the other end of the couch where Bucky and Steve are cuddling. Bucky waves.

“See, I met people,” Jessica says. “Now we can all watch _Die Hard_ , I guess.”

Everyone falls silent for a while until Jessica apparently gets bored and disentangles herself from Luke and Trish to wander over and get another drink. Maria and Maya are already there and she nods acknowledgment at them.

“Feel free to add us to the list of names you’re learning,” Maya offers with a cheerful shrug. “Maya, and that’s Maria.”

“Hey. You guys alcoholics too?” Jessica asks, smirking.

“Not generally,” replies Maria with a chuckle. “As long as you’re not planning on driving, I’ll turn a blind eye. Ex-cop turned mall cop.”

“Huh. So you’re the one that has Paul Blart for a partner, I’m guessing.”

“I’m not technically supposed to acknowledge that comparison, but yeah, pretty much.” Maria takes a sip of her drink.

“Did Fury make that rule or did Paul Blart?” Maya teases, grinning.

“Officially, it was Fury, but Coulson was the one that brought it up.” Maria’s grinning too.

“He sounds fun,” says Jessica with a snort. “You seem like the non-shitty kind of cop, though. And you?” This is directed at Maya.

“Nordstrom by day, grad student by… later in the day,” Maya shrugs cheerfully. “Biotech, which isn’t necessarily as nefarious as it sounds.”

“Sounds pretty damn nefarious.” Jessica finishes pouring her whiskey and drinks. “And you are, what, roommates, dating, fuckbuddies? I’m guessing one of the last two.”

“Dating,” says Maria, completely unfazed. “After about a year of her playing sympathetic ear while I pined over somebody else. We just figured it out like two months ago.”

“Aw, how romcom of you,” says Jessica, and her tone is a little scathing but she’s almost smiling.

“Quite literally,” Maya agrees. “That was the shorthand for the whole situation in the mall. The bisexual romcom.”

“Oh my god.” Jessica laughs a little. “I don’t even have a snarky comment for that.”

“It was a hell of a thing to be involved in,” agrees Maria. “But it all worked out.” She smirks at Maya and runs her hand down her arm.

“Okay, PDA is my cue to cut out,” says Jessica, but she’s smirking. “Nice meeting you, I guess.”

“Enthusiasm,” Maya quips, “I like that.”

“Yeah, I’m brimming with it,” calls Jessica over her shoulder as she goes back into the main room.

 

* * *

 

Once _Die Hard’s_ done, Clint stands up and goes over to the kitchen, returning with a plateful of cookies. “I made these,” he says cheerfully, starting around to each person. “Go ahead, they’re good.”

Sharon just catches Sam’s eye and almost starts giggling, but she takes exactly one cookie like a polite person ought. “I’m sure you worked very hard,” she says.

“Thanks,” says Mack, managing to sound only a little wary as he takes one.

“You’re a very good host, bird boy,” Raina coos as she and Kara both grab cookies. Possibly just to confuse the hell out of Clint, Raina is currently sitting halfway draped around Kara just beaming as sweetly as she can.

“So,” Maria asks Clint, “what’s with the farm animals in your kitchen?” She’s not actually expecting an answer, it’s more that she needs some entertainment because Maya’s wandered off to talk to Bruce about something science-y.

He shrugs. “I...like farms?” Quickly, he glances over at Laura, who is enthusiastically chatting with Sif and Melinda about the teams likely to be in the upcoming Super Bowl.

“Uh huh.” Maria doesn’t miss his frantic look, and she adds, “I hear Laura used to spend summers on her grandparents’ farm. You should ask her how that was.”

He can feel the tips of his ears getting hot, so he quickly turns toward the DVD player. “ _Elf_ ’s up next!” he chirps.

“Right, that’s my cue to head out,” says Fitz, wriggling out of Trip’s arms. “Hyperactive Will Ferrell is not my idea of a good time.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you later,” echoes Trip. “Thanks for having us!”

“Sure, thanks for coming,” says Clint, waving as they exit.

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. “Are they going back to Trip’s?”

“Yes,” Jemma says. “And I made sure to stock up on proper awful cereals for you.”

“How sweet,” Bobbi says.

Melinda and Sif also bid their goodbyes and leave (still holding hands), as do Raina and Kara. “You should do this more often,” Raina murmurs.

Clint glances after them, sees that they’re holding hands, and almost falls over from shock. He manages to right himself, and Laura’s giggling, but not meanly, so it’s probably fine. He puts the DVD in and then goes back to his seat.

About twenty minutes in Natasha pokes him on the arm and hisses, “What _is_ this?”

“It’s a classic!” he replies.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe anyone could sit through this more than once.”

 

* * *

 

Toward the end of the movie Maya nudges Maria’s shoulder and yawns overdramatically. “We should… I have, uh, school things to do,” she says, awkwardly enough that there are clearly no school things.

Maria snorts. “Yeah, we’d better get you home. Later, Barton.” She nods respectfully in his direction.

“Yeah, uh, later,” he says, mildly confused about when they became close enough for Maria to acknowledge him by name.

Of course, this just makes Bobbi snicker.

Jessica pokes Luke in the arm. “Say you have a bar emergency so we can go,” she murmurs.

“A _bar emergency?”_ hisses Trish. “That’s a terrible excuse!”

“Well, they’re not gonna suddenly be out of hostesses at Applebee’s at eleven thirty on a Sunday,” Jessica points out. Trish rolls her eyes.

Luke chuckles and then says louder, “Yeah, I have a shift starting soon, so we should probably head. Thanks for having us, Clint.”

“Yeah, good meeting you.”

“Still enough guests for him to pretend he’s not doing what he’s doing,” Bobbi observes in a low voice, idly petting Jemma’s hair.

Skye snorts. “I mean, as date options go, it’s not the worst.”

“No, but it’s hilarious when he thinks he’s subtle and he’s anything but,” Bobbi chuckles.

The movie finishes without further incident, and then Mack gently shakes Bruce awake (who has been dozing on his arm). “Hey,” he says gently as Bruce blinks. “I think it’s time for us to head out, huh?”

“Yeah. S-sorry,” mumbles Bruce, half-grinning. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It was cute,” Mack reassures him.

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a good idea,” Bobbi declares. “There’s a trainwreck of a retro space-themed Christmas special waiting for us.”

“I don’t see why we have to watch it if it’s so awful,” Jemma says, but she hops up and waits for further instructions.

Skye shrugs. “I mean, we _should_ watch it, just to say we did. At least we have booze?”

“I am so glad there’s booze,” Jemma agrees.

“Oh, believe me, so am I,” Bobbi says. “Bye, everyone.” And she herds the girls toward the door, murmuring, “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

“We know it,” replies Skye smugly.

“What’s up with them, anyway?” Clint asks Natasha.

“If I figure it out, I’ll let you know,” says Natasha with a smirk.

“Okay.”

“Although, I think this is my cue to herd these assholes out of here.” She pokes Steve’s arm. “C’mon, we’re working tomorrow.”

“It must be serious if Tasha’s being the responsible one,” Sharon jokes.

“I’m responsible about plenty of things,” replies Natasha, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky snickers.

“Well, I do have to agree,” Steve says. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

“Yeah, you have better things to do with your evening than entertain a pack of uncultured hooligans,” jokes Sam, winking at Clint.

Clint ignores the implication and asks, “Sure you don’t wanna stay for _Rudolph?_ ”

“Very,” says Natasha dryly.

“Have a good night, guys,” Laura calls, smiling.

“Oh, we’ll try,” Sharon smiles.

Clint waves as they head out the door, then notices that Laura’s the only one left and gulps. “I don’t suppose _you’d_ wanna stay for _Rudolph_?” he asks lamely. Granted, part of him had been secretly hoping for this, but he didn’t think it would actually _happen_.

“I know what you’re doing,” Laura says.

“Uh...what am I doing?” Because playing dumb usually works.

Laura rolls her eyes around the empty apartment, but she’s grinning. “When was the last time you hosted a party?”

“Uh.” He wonders if the talking-to with pizza that Natasha planned counts.

“That’s what I thought, goofball,” she teases. “If you were looking for a reason to have me over you didn’t need to go through all this.”

He blinks. “Well, I like Christmas movies too.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad excuse,” she shrugs. “Just that you didn’t need one.”

“Oh. Uh, good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for...next time. Next time?” He glances at her shyly. “Unless you’d like to stay and watch _Rudolph._ ”

“I probably shouldn’t drive yet,” she says with a smile. “I’ve been drinking. I don’t want to be unsafe.”

“Good point. Safety first,” he replies. “I mean, if you wanna watch something else we can, I just like all those dumb animated specials.”

“I do too,” she promises. “They’re an important part of cultural Americana. Plus, they’re cute.”

He grins. “Oh good! Nat makes fun of me for liking them. I guess in Russia they don’t do Christmas specials.”

“That’s her business, but…” Here Laura pauses to smirk. “I think it’d be a sad holiday season without them.”

“Yeah, me too. You want any snacks or anything before I put it in?”

“Do you have popcorn?”

“Hell yes!” He has, truth be told, way too much popcorn. “Butter, caramel corn, or extra butter?”

“Extra butter,” she says, with absolutely no doubt in her voice.

“I knew I liked you,” he says, and then immediately regrets everything. “I mean…”

“I think that was the whole point of this conversation, dopey,” she giggles.

He can’t help but laugh too. “Good point.” He pulls out the popcorn and goes to put the DVD in while it pops, then pours the popcorn into a bowl and comes back over to Laura. “Here, I should move over to the chair next to you.”

“I think this one is big enough for two,” she observes, nodding very seriously.

“O-oh, I...okay.” He walks over to the recliner almost hesitantly, then climbs in next to her.

“Definitely comfy,” she declares.

He glances down, startled but happy at how she’s cuddled up to him. “Yeah,” he says, pushing play on the remote.


	73. I don’t care if the gifts are wrapped or there’s nothing here to open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the orchestra's holiday concert, everyone congratulates Audrey, drinks, and gossips.

“That was very nice,” Matt’s saying as they walk out of the auditorium. “Festive, but lacking in blatant religious connections.”

“I’m definitely all in favor of that,” Karen agrees cheerfully.

“And it’s nice to just listen,” adds Matt. “Not too loud, good music.”

Foggy pats his arm. “Glad you liked it, buddy.”

Claire, who’s on Matt’s other side, smirks and shifts her weight so she’s resting against him. “Nice to pretend we’re classy once in awhile.”

“Speak for yourself,” says Foggy with mock indignance. “I am the epitome of class! Why, I eat my TV dinners off of fine china!”

“We don’t _have_ fine china,” Karen corrects playfully.

Kara came with them, but she’s been quiet for the last few minutes. Matt doesn’t want her to feel left out, so he asks, “Did you like it, Kara?”

Hastily, Kara pushes her hair out of her face and shrugs. “They’re really good,” she says. “The orchestra. And I think it’s always really interesting to see, well, notice, to notice where your thoughts go during instrumental music.” Her own stayed mostly on a warm fuzzy theme, so she’s not being sarcastic when she says this.

“Aw, yeah,” Karen agrees, squeezing Kara’s arm.

Matt nods. “Interesting point.”

“Oh, I should’ve said this earlier but you look really nice, Kara,” says Foggy with a smile. “I don’t know what color that is but it suits you.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, ducking her head shyly. “I… think it was called indigo? I liked it. It’s not something you see every day, so.”

“Matt, it’s a really nice dark purple or something, and it’s lacy but not too fussy,” Foggy says to Matt. “Makes her look like a fairy.”

Matt laughs. “Didn’t know you were such a poet, Foggy. I like your perfume,” he adds to Kara. “Subtle, but pleasant.”

“Oh!” Kara giggles nervously. “Thank you. It’s new. Part of my early resolution to treat myself to nice impulses once in awhile.”

“Good resolution,” says Claire.

“And somewhat on that note, I’m going to go buy an overpriced cocktail,” Kara says. “Anybody want anything?”

“I’ll come with you!” says Foggy. “I could do with a little something.”

“A _little_? No way,” Matt murmurs to Karen, who pokes him gently in the arm.

“If they’ve got bottles of water, I’ll take one,” Karen says, partly because it sounds refreshing and partly to distract from Matt’s jibe.

“All right,” Kara nods. “We’ll be right back.”

That tended to, Kara leads Foggy in the direction of the lobby bar. It’s exactly as well-equipped as a bar in a theater needs to be, which is to say most of the basic fancy options are available, and as Kara ponders the specials board, Raina appears behind her and purrs, “The Cuban Manhattan is an interesting choice, if you feel so inclined.”

Foggy stares at Raina, eyes wide in confusion. He vaguely recognizes her from Halloween, but he can’t remember her name or why she would know Kara.

“Raina, hey!” Kara exclaims, whirling around to hug her, then kiss her cheek all mock-European. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”

“I didn’t realize you were, either,” Raina replies with a coy smile.

“Oh, well, Audrey invited me,” Kara says. “The cellist?”

“The pretty pretty princess, I remember,” Raina smirks.

“So… yeah,” Kara nods. “I thought it sounded fun. Foggy and the kids agreed. Foggy, do you know Raina? I always lose track.”

“N-not really,” he says, still very confused.

“Well, this is Raina,” Kara says. “Raina, this is Foggy. He’s gonna be a lawyer.”

“I assume one of the decent ones, if you’re friends with him,” Raina says, and it sounds vaguely threatening even though she’s smiling.

“Uh, that’s the plan,” replies Foggy, laughing nervously. “Um, how do you guys know each other? Kara, you didn’t mention her before.”

“Oh, I’m the stuff of legends,” Raina says playfully. “The weed store weirdo who tried to make herself a cautionary tale?”

“We’ve only really gotten close the last couple months,” Kara says. “She, ah, helped me with my tattoo.” Not bothering to explain _how_ she helped, because that’s oddly complicated for being so simple. Smiling, she turns to the bar to make her order.

Foggy nods as if he understands, but he really doesn’t. “Nice to meet you?”

“You, too,” Raina says pleasantly. “Enjoying the seasonal tidings?” She waves around the lobby.

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s nice.” Shrugging, Foggy awkwardly turns back to the cocktail menu, hoping maybe alcohol will help this make sense.

“I’m just glad the concert mostly stuck to the more classic songs,” Kara offers, accepting her drink and stirring it around with the tiny straw. “I might do something very drastic if I have to hear ‘Santa Baby’ one more time.”

“Isn’t that the _worst_ ,” Raina agrees sympathetically. “I can only imagine what it must be like to be in one of the stores that’s constantly pumping so-called carols over their speakers.”

“The novelty wears off fast, I assume,” Kara giggles. “The novelty of carols even just from walking in the corridors is starting to wear off.”

Foggy, having finally panicked and ordered a drink just to get it over with, yelps, “One of my coworkers likes to play nonstop Christmas music and I like it, but ‘Santa Baby’ is the worst.”

“So _cloying_ ,” Raina says. “And it has the worst undertones.”

“It really does,” says Foggy. “It’s so _creepy!_ And this is coming from, y’know, a guy who kinda has a Santa-esque physique. It’s a creepy song.”

“And ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside,’” Kara adds, nodding vehemently.

“The obvious interpretation of the text is hideous,” Raina says, idly reaching for Kara’s hand to hold. “It’s essentially a Christmas song about date rape. And then the subverted interpretation, where it’s about the social machinations that manners demand of women, isn’t really much better, because why would we keep that up when we can just say we’re interested? It’s either hideous or impossibly basic.”

Foggy blinks. It’s not that he disagrees - some of the words aren’t the ones he’d use, but he gets the basic idea - but he definitely wasn’t expecting that.

Raina shrugs cheerfully. “But enough of that nonsense,” she says. “I’ll let you get back to your night. Text me about Christmas Eve, hm?”

“Promise,” Kara replies, waving as she turns to head for her group.

“What happens on Christmas Eve?” Foggy asks curiously.

Kara’s cheeks go red. “We were just thinking we might get together,” she says evasively. “Since we don’t have family plans, or church plans, or… plans.”

“Aw, I mean, we’ll just be hanging out if you wanna come over.” Foggy is nothing if not sincere and earnest, if a bit obtuse.

“Well, Karen already asked me over for Christmas proper,” she says, shrugging. “I think I’m gonna. But Raina and I will be… fine the night before.”

“Okay,” he says with a friendly shrug. “Offer’s open if you change your mind.”

 

* * *

 

t“There she is,” Bobbi croons, reaching for Audrey’s arm as she approaches. “The woman of the hour, etcetera.”

“I’m one of a very large orchestra,” Audrey says, but she leans into Bobbi’s touch.

“Well, you’re the only one of the very large orchestra that I came to see,” Bobbi says. “Hear. Whichever. Sounded as stunning as you look, to use the worst line of all time.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s the _worst_ ,” Audrey giggles.

Coulson, who’s waiting for Rosalind to select a drink, is watching this exchange with wide eyes. “I didn’t know those two were so friendly,” he remarks, tilting his head.

Obviously, Rosalind knows _of_ Audrey, but really all she has for Bobbi is a name to her face and their relationship is nothing she even contemplated before this moment. That doesn’t stop her from smirking at Coulson and saying, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He blinks. “Okay. If you say so.”

She nods. “I do,” she declares, and that decides that. “You should call her over, say hello.”

“Okay.” He waves and calls, “Hey, Audrey! You were great tonight.”

“You should socialize,” Bobbi murmurs, giggling to herself. “If you wanna.”

“I should,” Audrey says, in the tone of voice one might use to describe saying something nice about a toddler. “Do you know who that is he’s with?”

Bobbi tilts her head. “I think that’s terrifying Rosalind.”

“ _Terrifying_ ,” Audrey repeats.

“That’s what Jemma calls her,” Bobbi shrugs. “I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or not.”

“I guess that’s incentive to find out,” Audrey muses. “Wish me luck?”

“Luck,” Bobbi says. “I’ll be somewhere if you need rescued.”

“How dashing,” Audrey teases, and she drifts off in Coulson’s direction, smiling nervously.

“Introduce us,” Rosalind says, in the tone of voice one might use to instruct a toddler to do something.

“Rosalind, this is Audrey,” Coulson says obediently. “She’s the star cellist. Audrey, this is Rosalind, my…” He trails off.

Rosalind’s eyebrow goes up, and that means Audrey’s eyebrow goes even farther up. “Your…?”

“My...erm. She’s...we…” Coulson glances at Rosalind, pleading for an answer.

“Let’s just say I’m his special friend,” Rosalind says smugly, apparently oblivious to Coulson’s embarrassment.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Audrey says, not entirely sure what to make of any of this.

“You really did play very well,” Rosalind says. It’s a relief, because Audrey was starting to wonder if she had a tone of voice that wasn’t condescending. “The cello is a beautiful instrument.”

Audrey smiles goofily. “I’ve been told it’s a sexy instrument too,” she confides, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You _have_ ,” Rosalind murmurs, batting her eyelashes.

Coulson gulps audibly. “Y-you have?” he asks, his face going white.

“Yeah,” Audrey chuckles. “Something Sharon said once. And I’ve got to say, now that I think about it I can really see where she’s coming from.”

“Oh, is Sharon here?” Coulson asks, grateful for the opportunity to jump to a new topic.

“Mm, probably,” Audrey says, glancing around. “She and Tasha and everyone should be, I just haven’t seen them yet. But then, I only just finished up backstage.”

“More friends?” Rosalind asks.

Nodding, Coulson says, “Sharon works at Charlotte Russe and her other, um, partners work in the mall too. One of them is your neighbor, actually, Rosalind. Bucky. He’s at Sephora.”

“My neighbor,” Rosalind echoes. “If that isn’t the sweetest thought.” It’s unclear whether this is a good or bad thing.

“I suppose it is,” replies Coulson, sounding uncertain.

At this point, it seems like Audrey is squirming more than Coulson, so Rosalind clears her throat and takes Coulson’s hand. “I think we have others to wish a happy holidays,” she says, glancing around the room. “Lovely meeting you, Audrey.”

“Ah, you too,” Audrey says, glad of the chance to break away and run to find Natasha. Which she does, after about four minutes of getting stopped by randoms on the way to the somewhat-quiet corner that they’ve all claimed.

“Hey there, lady,” calls Natasha with a lazy grin. “You’re popular.”

“Why, hello,” Audrey says, sliding into the empty chair at their table. “I suppose it goes with having been in the performance and having invited so many people.”

“And it goes with being very talented,” Steve compliments, nodding assuredly.

“Well, thank you,” Audrey smiles. “But look, I need to ask you something.” This last is said directly to Natasha.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re in trouble,” Bucky sing-songs.

“No, no, it’s nothing bad,” Audrey says, shaking her head. “I just… do you know what the hell is up with Phil and that Rosalind person?”

“Oh, is that all.” Laughing, Natasha says, “They have a...special arrangement.”

“Special,” Audrey mutters. “Yeah, that’s how she described it, too.”

Bucky tilts his head. “Special like how?”

“It can’t be too nice if Audrey’s worrying about it,” Steve says.

Natasha shrugs. “He seems to be enjoying himself. Near as I can tell, he likes being bossed around and she likes bossing him.”

“As in, he’s indecisive?” Audrey asks.

“More like he likes having someone in charge of him,” says Natasha, smirking. “In, y’know. Every way.”

“She means he’s a sub,” explains Bucky, grinning mischievously. “And Rosalind is domming him like crazy.”

Audrey’s eyes go wider than she’d like to admit. “Is…”

“Domming,” Sharon says. “Dominating. Taking control.”

“Oh,” Audrey exclaims, voice small.

“Like I said, he seems to like it,” says Natasha gently. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Okay,” Audrey says, but she seems doubtful if just for a lack of true understanding.

“And hey,” Natasha adds, grinning, “this way he’s not bugging you anymore, so that’s something.”

“Well, he wasn’t… _bugging_ , exactly,” Audrey hesitates.

“Just take your good luck,” teases Sam. “Coulson’s not a bad guy, but if you’re not into him, he’s more of a nuisance than not.”

“It’s not even that I wasn’t into him,” Audrey says, wrinkling her nose. “It’s just - I don’t think I’m really in the place for a steady boyfriend right now.”

“Or girlfriend?” Natasha teases.

“At this exact moment, I’m honestly just looking for friends,” Audrey declares.

“And that’s just fine!” Steve exclaims. “That’s your choice and your business.”

“Of course,” chuckles Natasha. “Couldn’t resist.”

“You can never resist giving someone a hard time,” Sharon smirks, bumping Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha runs a hand down her back affectionately. “That’s me, a grade-A pain in the ass.”

“And we love you anyway,” says Sam with a wink. “Anyway, Audrey, nice playing earlier.”

Before Audrey can thank him, Dottie saunters over (holding, of course, a drink) and leans on the table. “Get a load of those two,” she says, waving a hand towards Coulson and Rosalind. “It’s a wonder she left the leash at home.”

Audrey’s eyes go even wider.

“Dottie, have you actually met Audrey?” Steve says, raising an eyebrow that’s supposed to tell Dottie to play nice but respectfully so.

“Not yet. Hey there, cutie.” Dottie holds out a hand. “I’m Dottie.”

“Hi,” Audrey says, raising an eyebrow at the nickname but shaking her hand without complaint. “You’re… how do you know everyone?”

“Oh, Steve and I go way back, I was his high school gym teacher,” chirps Dottie. “This bunch I met later. He’s got good taste.”

“His… huh,” Audrey says. Maybe it’s better not to ask any more. “They’re all pretty great, yeah.”

Dottie nods. “Well, nice seeing everyone. Thanks for the tunes, Audrey.” She ambles away with a wave.

“Later,” calls Natasha, amused.

Dottie wanders aimlessly for a minute before spotting Lorelei and Raina and going over to join them. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I do love an opportunity to be fancy,” Raina jokes, batting her eyelashes. It’s goofy in a way she can only be with a certain kind of person.

“Just come for the taste of culture?” asks Lorelei, who is as usual dressed fancier than everyone else in the room.

“Basically.” Dottie shrugs. “And you never know the things you might see.” She nods at Coulson and Rosalind. “Like I told some less appreciative folks earlier, I’m shocked she didn’t bring his leash.”

Lorelei snorts. “I would say that at least we were spared that image, but now you’ve put it in my head and that’s just as bad.”

“I wonder what he calls her,” Raina muses.

“No, no you really don’t,” Lorelei groans, making a face, because when she wants to think about guys being dommed she dommes them herself.

Dottie grins evilly. “You’re welcome.”

“Is there any other, less atrocious gossip to imagine?” Lorelei asks.

Shrugging, Dottie replies, “Just came to laugh about normal people mostly. They’re absurd.”

“They really are,” Raina agrees. “I mean, it’s sort of cute in a way watching all the old people stroll around arm-in-arm like nothing can touch them, but it only lasts so long.”

“Damn right.” Dottie takes a long drink and then asks “You two got any plans for tonight?” with a wink.

“Well, I suggested we go seasonal and eat cookie frosting off each other’s bodies, but that got shot down,” Raina says blithely.

Dottie giggles. “Sounds fun, but potentially dangerous once you got to the more interesting parts of the evening.”

“She settled for creatively-utilized Christmas lights,” Lorelei murmurs, rolling her eyes fondly. “And it’s oh-so-fun to go from full glamour to full debauchery.”

“Lorelei’s version of full debauchery is always glamorous too,” Raina says.

“With you,” Lorelei retorts.

“Aren’t you precious,” teases Dottie. “Well, have fun with your debauchery, ladies.”

“Always do,” Raina hums.

“Wasn’t our Audrey delightful,” Vanessa croons, guiding Christine over to join the others.

“Oh, she was,” Lorelei agrees. “I wonder how she’d react to being called ours.”

“Because of the possessive or because of _us_?” Vanessa asks.

“Either,” Raina says, “but the latter is funnier.”

Dottie snorts. “Poor little thing wouldn’t know what to do with herself. Also, I’m Dottie. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She nods at Vanessa and Christine.

“Vanessa Marianna,” says Vanessa, holding out her hand like someone could shake it or kiss it depending on what they wanted. “Currently managing our mall’s sorry attempt at an art gallery.”

Taking the opportunity, Dottie takes it and kisses it, deliberately making eyes as she does. “Seems like this sort of thing is more your speed,” she purrs.

Vanessa rolls her eyes, though she’s smiling. “More so when people don’t read into it,” she says, “but I get the sense you don’t.”

“If I ever do read into anything, I keep it to myself,” assures Dottie. “And your lady?”

“Christine,” Christine says, smirking. “Depending on who you talk to, I’m hardly a lady.”

“And that’s so much more interesting,” Vanessa murmurs.

“Just here enjoying the seasonal festivities?” Raina asks with a smile.

“Or something like that,” Vanessa says. “Some of the songs are actually new to me, which makes it marginally more interesting.” To Dottie she blithely explains, “On my better days, I’m Jewish.”

Dottie hums. “Fascinating.”

“Occasionally,” Vanessa shrugs.

“Well, always nice to meet classy ladies.”

Christine snorts. “I like your idea of class.”


	74. sent to us as a gift from the future, to show us the proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The annual holiday gift exchange is held and it's both sweet and ridiculous in turns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for... the majority of the conversation between Jess and Kara covering their "usual" unpleasant topics.

“I hope you know you have to be good to him. Because if you don’t, my dad knows people. I could make you disappear. _I_ wouldn’t even know where you ended up! He so much as calls me crying, your number’s up, pal.”

Mack blinks. “Okay, your threats of violence have been noted.”

“Tony, please,” sighs Bruce. “Can we just have a nice Christmas party without threats of violence against my boyfriend?”

“You’d think that, since those threats come from a place of caring about you, your request would be noted,” Pepper says, sipping her drink. “That would be a nice world.”

“I’m just trying to make sure everything’s, y’know, on the up and up,” says Tony with a shrug. “That’s what good friends do, right?”

“Yes, but also no,” says Rhodey, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Probably leave out the part about your dad next time. It makes it sound more serious than you are.”

“Oh, I’m completely serious,” protests Tony.

“Well,” says Mack, after a moment of silence, “since I don’t plan on hurting Bruce, I think you can probably calm down about it. But your dedication is noted.”

“Better not,” says Tony, taking a sip of his drink, and the conversation drifts to another topic. Tony stops paying attention once it doesn’t involve him anymore, and he starts eavesdropping on other nearby tables instead. Clint seems to be telling a crazy story of some kind, and considering the amount of bandages on his extremities, he’s probably not exaggerating that much.

“You’re _sure_ they were Hydra?” Steve asks, sounding concerned.

“I mean, unless Ward fell in with another group of menacing thugs, yeah. Guess it’s not out of the realm of possibility.” Clint shrugs and then winces. “So yeah, they were getting some good punches in, and then out of nowhere comes this dog…”

“If this story ends in sad puppies I’m getting up and leaving,” Sharon says, only halfway kidding.

Clint shakes his head. “Not really, he’s okay now. I mean, mostly. The vet said he’s probably gonna lose the eye, but other than that...anyway, yeah, the dog jumped in and attacked one of them, and I only knew he was there because one of the mooks started yelling at him. I guess he gave them a pretty good fight, cause once I got back up and hit the other Hydra guy in the face, he ran off and the dog bit the second Hydra guy in the crotch and then they both ran off cursing.”

“Jesus christ,” says Natasha. “And this was _this morning_?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was like twelve thirty, but…”

“Have you been to a hospital?”

“Well, he called me after,” Laura says, shrugging, “and we took the dog to the vet. He insisted he was fine, though, so I just took him home and made him rest till we came here.”

Natasha sighs and mutters some Russian curses. “Gonna turn all my hair grey, Clint, I swear to god.”

“What, you mean it’s not dyed already? Ow!” She’s flicked him on a non-bandaged part of his arm.

“So the dog is where exactly?” Bucky asks.

“Still at the vet’s. He was pretty beat up, but like I said, the vet thinks he’s gonna be okay. They wanna keep him overnight for observation. Didn’t have a collar or anything, but I’ll put up posters and stuff once he’s on his feet again.”

“He seems like a sweet dog, though,” Laura offers. “And he did save Clint’s life or… whatever.”

Sam nods. “Hey Buck, you still got any of those fancy treats Callie likes? I think we should stop by once they get the dog back to Clint’s place.”

“Yeah! He can have the whole bag, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I could get a collar on my way home from work,” Sharon offers cheerfully.

Clint shakes his head. “Ah, nah, you don’t need to do that, somebody’ll claim him…”

“Well, if he didn’t have one already he needs one no matter what,” Sharon says.

“I guess. I’m not keeping him though, I don’t need a dog.”

Laura raises her eyebrow at Natasha, who smirks back. “Sure,” says Natasha, her tone neutral.

“Well, I _don’t_ ,” he insists. “Although I guess one of the Hydra grunts did say something kinda weird…”

A few tables away, Darcy has been listening to all of this with fascination. Horrified, horrified fascination. “Holy shit, you guys,” she says to her table. “Did you know that the Nazis murder dogs?”

“Because the racism, weapons trafficking, and general menacing air just wasn’t evil enough,” snarks Skye.

“I mean, I’m just repeating what they’re saying,” Darcy says, jerking her head toward Clint’s table, “but judging by the fact that Clint got beat to shit I’m pretty sure it’s not a lie.”

Fitz’s eyes go wide. “What the hell does killing dogs have to do with white supremacy?”

“Nothing directly,” Bobbi mutters, “but asshole murderers have to start murdering somewhere, I guess.”

Fitz shudders and Trip puts his arm around him. “Let’s talk about something else,” he suggests. “Darcy, Ian, you guys do anything fun for the holiday?”

“I politely declined Thor’s invitation to go pretend to be a Christian and ordered Chinese food,” Darcy says.

“I tactfully ignored my elders’ awful politics,” Ian says.

“Ooh, always a fun time,” jokes Skye. “We made a gingerbread Shatterdome!” She pulls up pictures on her phone and shoves it in his face proudly.

“A gingerbread…?” Ian asks.

“Shatterdome! Y’know, where the Jaegers are kept? _Pacific Rim_ …?” Skye turns to Darcy. “Don’t tell me he hasn’t seen it.”

“He has,” Darcy says, at the same time that Ian says, “I have.”

“Not everyone can be expected to remember every detail like that,” Jemma teases.

Skye shrugs. “Well, anyway, that’s what it looked like. We made videos with Jaegers!” Skye flicks through her phone and hands it to him again.

Ian watches, laughing. “Very clever,” he agrees. “That must have been quite the effort.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” says Fitz. “It’s mostly just a matter of getting the pieces in the right shapes and making sure the frosting will hold. It’s an interesting architectural challenge.”

“Still,” Darcy shrugs, “anything that wasn’t reliant on cookie cutters is badass.”

Bobbi grins. “Speaking as the one who oversaw the project, thank you.”

“I bet that wasn’t all you oversaw,” Darcy says smugly.

Bobbi doesn’t reply.

“Skye!” Jemma exclaims. “You should. The video from San Fransokyo! Videos. You should share. Right now.”

Skye snorts. “Sure, yeah. So you guys know about Baymax, right? The nursebot our friend Tadashi built?”

“Yeah, the kickasss ninja marshmallow bot,” Darcy agrees.

“Well, they sent us this.”

“This” is a three minute video starring Baymax-shaped cookies versus evil robot-shaped cookies, complete with voiceovers. Hiro somehow figured out how to rig at least one of the cookies to shoot frosting from its arm.

“Oh my god,” Darcy says. “That’s amazing.”

“Right?” Skye’s grinning. “I like that kid.”

“It’s wonderful,” Jemma agrees.

“You said videos, plural?” Ian offers.

Skye snickers. “Uh, yeah, but I dunno if...well, here.” She pulls up the other video.

Darcy tilts her head. “Why is there an extra from _Magic Mike_ playing with a cat?”

“That’s Lincoln and Marmalade,” explains Skye. “The sexy Santa suit is, apparently, left over from some weird life choices.”

“Weird in the general sense,” Jemma says wryly. “I think they actually make a strange sort of sense if you’ve met the boy.”

Trip grins. “I mean, he doesn’t look _bad._ ”

“He’s conventionally attractive, I suppose,” Jemma says, “but I was speaking more of his lack of shyness and… generosity, if you will.”

“He certainly is that,” says Fitz with a smirk.

“Well, this is fascinating and vague,” Darcy muses.

“You know those stories where women are having a party and the doorbell rings and in walks an obviously fake cop, saying something about ‘I’ve had some 0calls about this house and I’m going to need to search your premises’ and then taking their pants off?” Bobbi giggles.

“Yes,” Ian says doubtfully.

“Same idea,” Skye says, smirking. “But with Santa.”

“Why are you texting friends with a former door-to-door stripper?” Darcy asks.

Skye shrugs. “He’s funny and he likes _Star Wars_ and he has a cat. Why not?”

“Is he like, someone your mom knows?” Darcy presses.

“He's Jiaying's - well, really her errand boy, I think,” Jemma says.

“Yeah. I think she keeps him around for eye candy,” teases Skye. “But he’s a pretty okay dude, too.”

“Huh,” says Darcy, shrugging. “If it works.”

Glancing across the room, Bobbi spots Kara and Karen entering. “Hey, you two,” she calls, grinning.

“Hey,” Kara calls back. “Talk later?” Because conversations about personal Christmas gifts and related plans are better not shouted across a room.

“Of course,” Bobbi says.

That settled, Kara and Karen slide into seats with Jessica and hers. “Hey, guys,” Karen says cheerily.

Trish waves and smiles, Luke nods respectfully, and Jessica looks like she’d rather be eating live frogs than be here. “Want booze?” she asks. “For mixed drinks, it’s not bad booze.”

Kara giggles. “I'll always take suggestions,” she says.

“Margaritas are good,” says Jessica. “Y’know, for this kind of place.”

“That sounds good, yeah,” Kara agrees.

“I’ll grab you one,” Jessica replies. “And hey, if you wanna come over for some _good_ booze, we have that.”

“Jess,” Trish warns. “Not everyone’s a day-drinker.”

“Hey, you wanted me to make friends,” says Jessica. “This is how I make friends. I don’t question _your_ social life.”

Trish rolls her eyes and Luke chuckles. “Promise we have things at our place other than booze,” he says to Kara.

Kara laughs nervously. “I trust you,” she says, because it’s true (she’s not as trusting as she used to be, but Karen trusts these guys enough to want to sit with them, so she’s going to assume they’re all right). “I’d like that, I think.”

“Cool. Be right back with your drink.” Jessica stands up and wanders off toward the bar.

While she’s gone, Akela comes up and says, “Hi. Do you know anything about the moving plans yet?”

“Well, I get the keys on the first, so probably the major moving is going to be mostly on the second,” Kara explains. “I’ve got a couple of, um, deliveries that are coming that day? So part of it is going to be making… honestly Drax, making him help me put them together.”

“Y’know, he’s probably gonna wind up putting them together by himself,” Karen giggles.

“He’ll like that,” says Akela. “He likes feeling like he’s conquered something.”

“Well, he’s welcome to conquer my new bedframe,” Kara says. “In the tamest way possible.”

“Of course,” Karen adds, smirking.

“What’s going on?” asks Trish, smiling. “I mean, I get that someone’s moving somewhere.”

“I am,” Kara says, even though it’s probably obvious. “I’m moving apartments. I’ve been, uh, I’ve kind of been crashing with people for a few months, between places.”

“There was a situation with a guy,” Karen takes over, making a face that’s designed to show the kind of situation, “and it’s been… well. Relocating to a place he doesn’t know the location of, that’s not contaminated by him…”

“I’ll do anything in my power to keep away from that fucking asshole,” Kara almost chirps.

“Who’s an asshole?” Jessica asks, slipping back into her spot. “Drinks’ll be here in a couple minutes.”

“My ex,” Kara shrugs. “And honestly, asshole is almost too nice a word.”

Jessica nods. “Yeah, I know that. That’s pretty much why we’re here.” She gestures to Luke and Trish. “Turns out, after you snap your rapist’s neck, sticking around town isn’t really appealing.”

Kara’s eyes go wide. “Really? I mean, I get that it really wouldn’t be appealing, but… I…”

“Yeah. Long story.” Shrugging, Jessica looks away. “Not one I like telling.”

“No, of course, that’s… I wouldn’t, I mean, if it makes you upset, or, or uncomfortable, I wouldn’t ask…” Kara frowns. “That’s, um. I know how tiresome ‘I’m sorry’ is but… yeah.”

“Whatever.” Jessica smirks. “I’m still here, so that’s something.”

“Sometimes it’s kind of a big deal of a something, yeah,” Kara says softly.

“Hey, you want me to teach you Krav Maga?”

“That’s… what is that, exactly?” Kara asks, furrowing her brow. “I’m supposed to start doing some… stuff, some self-defense stuff, once the year starts and Isabelle knows her schedule better, but, uh. Maybe, yeah.”

“It’s self-defense based on real life situations,” chimes in Trish. “It’s practical. She, uh, took it a bit far, but it’s not a bad thing to know.”

“Jessica Jones, taking something too far? Never,” snarks Luke. Jessica throws him a glare.

“That sounds kinda cool,” Karen says, a wistful note in her voice.

“Would you teach both of us?” Kara asks. “That might be neat.”

Lance comes over to deliver the drinks. “What are we being taught?” he asks, unable to keep the interest out of his voice.

“Murder,” says Jessica, eyes gleaming.

The color drains out of Lance’s face comically fast. “Right, here you are, then,” he says, dropping off the glasses and then walking away very quickly.

“Is he always that weird?” Luke asks Trish.

Trish rolls her eyes. “He likes to hit on me. _Down_ , Jess,” she says, because she senses that Jessica is making a fist under the table.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll hit on most girls,” Karen offers, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think he necessarily means anything by it, but I do kinda get the feeling he’s got a thing for blondes.”

“A harmless thing, probably,” Kara says, eyes darting over to Bobbi and back. “Otherwise _I_ get the feeling he probably would have fallen victim to exactly what we’re discussing by now.”

Everyone is chuckling when two newcomers wander over. “Hey, fancy seeing you here, neighbor,” Trish says, smiling at the one with the afro.

“You too,” he says.

“Malcolm, right?” Luke asks.

Malcolm nods. “I know Trish, but…”

“These are my partners Luke and Jessica,” says Trish, “and the others…”

“I’m Karen, this is Kara, that’s Akela,” Karen says cheerfully.

“Hey, Mike,” Kara adds, waving shyly.

Mike, who came in with Malcolm, grins and waves back at her. “Hey, how’ve you been? Ace loves that backpack you got him, I can barely get him to take it off.”

“I’ve been all right,” Kara says, smiling. “I’m so glad he likes it, I was hoping he would.”

“He does,” Mike promises. “Uh, anyway, not to be rude to everybody else. I’m Mike.”

“Hey,” Luke says, noding. “Luke, Jess, Trish, Malcolm.”

“Oh, we met on the bus ride over,” says Mike, grinning at Malcolm.

“Perfect!” Karen exclaims.

“Everybody, attention!” Sharon shouts, climbing up on her chair. “We’re gonna get started! Same rules as last year, everyone drew a name and got a present for the person that name belongs to, so when we call out a name the person who got their gift needs to give said gift, okay?”

Steve smiles and draws the first name out of the envelope. “Trip!”

Mike stands up with a grin. “So I’m hoping you’ve seen the movie by now, or this won’t mean much to you,” he says, going over to hand Trip a bag.

Trip pulls out a die-cast Finn action figure and grins back. “Awesome! Thanks, man.”

“‘Course. I thought you’d like him.”

“Oh, he does,” chimes in Fitz. “I’ve barely heard anything in the last week that isn’t _Star Wars_ -related.” But he’s smiling too.

“What is there to discuss that isn’t _Star Wars_ -related?” Bobbi calls, smirking (in no small part because of the way it makes Jemma squirm).

“Next up, Billy,” Steve calls.

Billy grins and waves from the corner where he and his brother are seated, and Sam goes over to hand him a package. “I think there’s a theme here,” he jokes as Billy unwraps it.

“Nice!” says Billy, pulling out a pair of sleep pants covered in _Star Wars_ original trilogy characters. “I like this theme.”

“Lorelei,” Steve announces.

“Have at it,” Lorelei drawls, rising from her seat.

Malcolm ambles over and hands her the bag almost shyly. “I asked around, I hope it’ll do.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, but what she pulls out is perfume. Perfume that, after a quick test, isn’t too overly fragrant and is therefore acceptable. “It’ll do,” she replies, smiling in a way that may be dangerous or may be her version of sincere.

Smiling, Malcolm sits down again.

“Next up, Pietro,” Sharon says, taking the envelope.

“Goody, I’m already up,” Lorelei says dryly. “The box?” Raina reaches under the bar and pulls a box wrapped in impossibly glittery silver paper out, which Lorelei then grabs and walks two stools down to deliver.

Pietro looks baffled and, after unwrapping it and pulling out a small plush toy that’s sort of flower-shaped (with a cheerful tag that reads HERPES), asks, “Is this herpes as in the virus?”

“Sure is,” Lorelei says, with an expression like she’s just daring him to say anything against it.

He shrugs. “Thank you, I think.”

“You’re welcome, I think,” she replies with an almost arrogant smile.

“So next is… Clint,” Sharon says, making an anxious face.

“Here you are, mate,” says Lance, handing Clint a small bag.

Clint pulls out a plastic turkey that dispenses jelly beans out of its...well. “Actually, I love these things,” he says with a grin. “Thanks.”

Bobbi smacks her hand against her forehead.

“Of _course_ he does,” mutters Skye.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” says Lance, who was obviously expecting a more dramatic reaction.

“Why was it a turkey?” Jemma asks Bobbi in a whisper. “The farm animals?”

“It was probably the first bird he could find that did that,” Bobbi sighs.

“Vanessa!” Sharon exclaims.

Bobbi rises to pass Vanessa a small box, saying, “I dunno, it just struck me as something that would suit you.”

Vanessa opens the box to reveal a silver bracelet designed to look like small ropes in a knot and she just grins. “It’s perfect,” she says languorously,

“Kinda figured it would be,” Bobbi smirks.

Steve smiles. “Next up, Irani!”

Irani looks expectantly around the room, but it’s Fury who slides a silver bag across the table they’re both seated at. “Should be the right flavor,” he says, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Thank you, Nicholas, it’s exactly right,” says Irani, pulling out a bag of coffee that’s labeled HOLIDAY COFFEE in large colored letters and smiling at him.

“Good. Can I go now?” Fury grunts.

“Be nice,” chides Irani.

Stifling her giggles, Sharon calls out, “Mack’s next!”

Fitz awkwardly maneuvers his way out of his table and over to Mack’s, which would seem silly since the tables are adjacent to one another, but he’s holding a large, heavy box. “Er, here,” he says awkwardly. “I got Bobbi’s help, and I think I got the right thing but…”

Mack’s tearing the paper off enthusiastically and grins when he sees that it’s a case full of drill bits. “Did you get this from Jane’s store?”

“Yeah. Bobbi said you got excited about it.” Fitz’s ears are turning a bit pink. “Um, enjoy?”

“I will!” Mack stashes the case on the seat next to him, still grinning. Fitz looks pleased as he goes back to his seat.

“Next up, Hope Shlottman!” says Steve.

Everyone looks mildly confused before a slight blonde woman stands up and waves from where she’s seated amongst a table of Thor and his friends (looking comically tiny). “I just started at Big 5 a couple weeks ago,” she explains. “Sif invited me to this.”

Wanda, who’s sitting in the bar, walks over and hands her a bulky envelope. “My brother says running shoes are expensive, and your Facebook informed me that you run track,” she explains. “I get a family coupon, but I don’t want to buy running shoes, and you do, so I gave you the coupon, and some shoelaces.”

“Oh, thank you,” says Hope, smiling as she pulls a pair of bright blue shoelaces out of the envelope.

“You’re welcome.” Wanda returns the smile as she heads back to her seat.

“Loki!” says Sharon, eyes gleaming.

Loki, who looks disgusted to even be here, glares from where he’s seated next to his brother. Luke Cage goes over to hand him a small box. “I know it’s kind of weird,” he says, “‘cause we don’t know each other, but I hope you like it anyway.”

“We’ll see,” says Loki, sounding skeptical. It turns out to be a small, elegant fountain pen, and he raises an eyebrow. “Thank you, this is quite nice,” he adds, surprised and a bit confused. Luke just grins as he sits back down.

Steve tries for a smile in Loki’s direction (tries, because smiling at Loki is a dangerous proposition). “Natasha,” he says, full of affection.

Maya jumps out of her chair and chuckles to herself. “This seemed fitting,” she says, handing Natasha her present.

“Oh?” Natasha raises an eyebrow as she unwraps it, then bursts into laughter once it’s open. “Oh my god.” She puts the hat on so everyone can see that it says SUBURBAN FRAUD in bright purple letters.

Sam chokes on the water he was drinking and Bucky starts giggling so hard tears leak from his eyes.

Maya curtsies. “Glad you like,” she chirps.

“I really do,” says Natasha, grinning.

“Next is Ian,” Steve announces.

He stands up and smiles sheepishly, feeling for some reason surprised when he sees Helen approaching from the tall table she’s sharing with Hope-the-manager. “I figured it was practical as well as charming,” she says.

The gift turns out to be a teapot that, to nobody’s surprise, is decorated to look like R2-D2. “It’s perfect,” he promises. “R2 even makes noises that sound something like a teapot!”

“Look at my nerd,” Darcy says fondly.

“Tony!” says Steve, a bit apprehensively.

Tony stands up and stops just short of striking a _bring it on_ pose. He’s looking eager and a big smug, but his expression changes quickly when it’s Loki who comes over to hand him a bag (which says, for some reason, _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ ). As he rifles through the tissue paper, Tony looks as if he half expects the bag to explode, or maybe something to pop out at him. “Huh,” he says, when he finally fishes out a handful of metal buttons. They say things like DRIVER PICKS THE MUSIC, SHOTGUN SHUTS HIS CAKEHOLE and I LIKE HOT GUYS AND MONSTERS. One, seeming a bit out of place, is bright red and says I’M A MARSHMALLOW.

“I don’t actually know what that marshmallow one means,” says Loki, looking bored. “ _God jul_.”

“Yeah, uh, to you to,” replies Tony, quickly sitting down. He doesn’t know either, and he’s just hoping it’s not a dick joke.

Sam, having recovered from his choking misadventure, announces, “Fandral!”

“Excellent!” Fandral waves from his table, and he looks so smug that Victoria feels delighted about the reprimand she’s about to deliver. She hands him a small box like is meant to hold tree ornaments.

He opens it, and then holds up a small stop sign keychain, tilting his head. “I see.”

“Take it to heart,” Victoria drones, sounding brutally unenthusiastic.

Fighting snickers, Sam calls, “Raina!”

Raina twirls around on her barstool and grins into the middle distance.

Maria climbs out of her booth and hands Raina a basket. “Seemed like your style,” she says with a shrug.

“Oh,” Raina murmurs, examining the basket’s contents. It’s filled with fake flowers and craft-store ribbon and it strikes her as both quaint and oddly touching. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.” And there’s not even irony in that.

“Hope Van Dyne!” says Sam (apparently the other two are making him carry his weight after he was snuggling Bucky at the beginning of the evening).

“Hey, all,” Hope drawls, smiling wryly. She expects nothing and that’s apparent.

Trip gets up and hands her a small bag. “So, uh, I don’t know if you’ll use this but the gal at the makeup counter said it was limited edition. Sounded fancy to me.”

Hope peeks inside the bag and pulls out a small bottle of nail polish in a rich dark brown. “It’s actually really nice,” she assures him, managing a smile.

“Oh good!” Trip grins. “Enjoy.”

Sam’s smiling too as he calls, “Trish!”

Trish waves. “Over here!”

Carina hops up. “It’s kind of a shot in the dark,” she says almost apologetically, handing Trish a bright pink, glittery bag.

“Oh!” says Trish, ignoring Jessica’s disgusted noise. She pulls out a T-shirt that’s designed to look like Supergirl’s costume, complete with a velcroed-on red cape. “Oh my god, this is awesome!”

“I’m so glad you like it,” Carina beams. “I thought it was really cool.”

“She’s never gonna take it off,” says Jessica, but she’s almost smirking. “She loves that superhero shit.”

“I do,” says Trish, bumping her shoulder against Jessica’s.

“Sif!” says Sharon.

Sif grins and waves, and grins wider when she sees Mack stand up and head towards her. His package contains a small metal horse, welded together out of various metal bits, and a box of Band-Aids. “Because I know what you get up to,” he teases.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” says Sif, then adds with a roll of her eyes, “and your concern is noted.”

Mack’s chuckling as he walks away.

Steve announces, “Malcolm!”

Akela slides Malcolm a bag across the table. “Merry Christmas.”

Malcolm looks pleased at the soft grey scarf inside. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” says Akela with a small smile.

“Next, Jessica,” Steve calls, nodding encouragingly.

Pepper approaches the table with a presumably tall, thin gift bag. “It seemed universal,” she explains.

Jessica’s already grinning as she pulls out a bottle of Knob Creek whiskey. “Holy shit, thanks!” she says. “You know me.”

“Lucky guess,” Pepper says self-effacingly. “But I’m glad you like it.”

Luke nods. “Won’t go to waste, that’s for sure.”

“Next up, Akela!” Sharon says.

Akela glances around for a moment before Jessica passes her a messily wrapped package. “I didn’t know what to get you, so here,” she says.

It turns out to be a pack of 12 Prismacolor pencils, which Akela smiles at. “Thank you, I do sketch sometimes so these will be useful.”

“Oh, good.” Jessica shrugs. “Happy whatever, then.”

“Maya!” Sharon shouts.

Maya smiles, not exactly feeling nervous until she sees Raina standing to give her a present, which turns out to be in a small jewelry box. “I hear you’re something of an aficionado.”

“On… necklaces?” Maya says, pulling out a necklace that looks like a long bullet on a chain. And then she sees the tiny engraving on the nail head: CRAVE. Suddenly she’s remembering this. “Yes, I am a necklace aficionado, thank… you.”

Raina gives a coy little shrug. “You’re welcome,” she says.

Maria nudges Maya and murmurs, “You’re making the kind of face that means that’s not just a necklace.”

“It’s not,” Maya whispers. “Show you later.”

“Ooh,” says Maria, eyes gleaming.

“Next up is Darcy,” announces Steve. “Which means I need to step away from the table for a moment.” He retrieves a package from under their booth and goes to hand Darcy a perfectly average-sized box.

“This is deceptively normal,” Darcy coos. “Just like you!”

Steve grins bashfully. “Just open it and see.”

He’s decorated a small whiteboard for her, framing it with a border of stickers and Sharpie illustrations that meet to highlight DARCY in glittery letters. “Holy crap, dude,” she exclaims, and apropos of nothing she jumps up to give him a hug. “That’s so cool.”

“Glad you like it,” Steve says, smiling like he’s more than just a little glad.

“Luke!” calls Sharon.

Luke waves, and Hope squeezes her way past Thor to go over and hand him a box. “I, uh, hope you like it.”

“Probably will,” says Luke with a smile. He laughs when he pulls out a black T-shirt that says “A bartender is just a pharmacist with limited inventory.” “Nice one. Still gotta wait awhile before I can serve you, though.”

She smirks. “It was worth a try.”

“Melinda,” Sharon says.

It’s Jemma who rises to give this gift, looking vaguely terrified. “I, ah, I’ll be happy to exchange it if you don’t need it, but it seemed, it seemed practical,” she stammers.

Melinda raises an eyebrow as she carefully removes the paper, then smirks at the box which proclaims to contain _iFlask - the world’s first “smart” flask!_ “Clever. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Jemma says quickly, flashing an anxious smile before she returns to her seat.

“Jane’s next!” Sam calls.

Jane waves. “In which ‘Secret Santa’ is a purely non-religious term.”

Clint shrugs as he ambles over to hand her what is probably the world’s most hastily-assembled bag. “Merry happy.”

She tilts her head, but she opens the package, only mildly confused about the pair of light blue gloves she pulls out. They’re nice enough, she’s just not sure where he got that idea. “Thanks,” she says.

“Because you’re responsible,” he says, wandering away without further comment.

“Okay,” she says, not entirely sure what the connection is.

“Lance!” says Sam with a chuckle.

Lance, who’s leaning on the bar and wearing a skeptical look, doesn’t relax when it’s Melinda who comes over to hand him his present. She doesn’t comment, even when he pulls a pair of wrist guards out of the bag. It takes him a minute, but finally he realizes that they’re meant to be for his latent carpal tunnel. The carpal tunnel that he hasn’t told anyone about in years. “Uh,” he says, glancing up at May. “How did you know?”

May has the tiniest smirk on her face. “Merry Christmas, Hunter.”

Sharon chuckles before reading the next name. “Mike!”

“So, uh,” says Rhodey as he walks up with Mike’s present, “I hope you don’t mind but I kinda got this for Ace too.”

“Not if it’s what I think it is,” says Mike, and he doesn’t stop smiling when he unwraps a Batman Lego set. “Awesome! Thanks, Rhodey.”

“I got the one with Batman, Flash, and the Batmobile and Riddler car,” says Rhodey, looking pleased. “Thought you’d like that.”

“And then it’s your turn, Rhodey,” says Steve.

“Oh. Cool,” Rhodey says, sliding back into his seat.

“Merry Christmas, buddy,” says Tony, pushing a bag at him. “This should be useful for you.”

Rhodey tears off the paper and promptly yelps. “Tony,” he says in a somewhat strangled voice, “what is this?”

“It’s for, y’know. Your lady friend.” Tony’s almost too casual. “Not that I think you need any help in that department, really, but I hear this can add to, well. The experience.”

Rhodey, somehow managing to be both completely exasperated and panicked at once, glances at Kara, who’s busying taking a sip from Jessica’s margarita. He breathes out and then leans over to Tony and hisses, “Do _not_ buy me any more vibrators, okay?”

Tony smirks. “Just trying to help.”

Sharon, trying not to giggle, calls, “Wanda’s next!”

Hogun goes over with Wanda’s present, smiling faintly. “Thank you,” says Wanda when she unwraps a miniature meditation garden. “This seems very nice.”

“I find the incense soothing,” he says. “I thought you might too.”

“Oh, and then Hogun!” says Steve.

Skye hops up to hand him a box. “Uh, I hope you don’t already have this.”

Hogun smiles at the super detailed and poseable Link action figure inside. “I don’t. Very nice, thank you.”

Sam calls out, “Kara!”

Kara stands up, acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on her and overwhelmingly glad that she knows it’s not out of pity or something. Raina catches her eye and winks, Rhodey gives her a reassuring thumbs up, Bobbi nods encouragingly. She’s finally learning how to wrap her head around the fact that people, lots of people, want to be her friend for genuine reasons.

Bucky gets up and goes over almost shyly, handing her a bag. “I know we haven’t gone to get your dog yet, but I got you some stuff for when we do.”

As Kara pulls dog toys out of the bag, her eyes start to water, but in the happiest way. “This is really great,” she says. “I’m - you’re really great, okay? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” says Bucky, grinning.

She deliberates for a moment before she says, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“Oh, sure.” He offers his arm.

Kara swoops in to wrap her arms around Bucky’s chest. “Thank you,” she says again, softly.

Bucky pats her shoulder, a little awkwardly, and smiles. “Anytime.”

“Next is our Sharon,” Steve says, smirking a bit.

“Well, come on, then,” Sharon sighs, though it’s clear she means it nicely.

Fandral strides over, wearing a smirk. “I thought you could use this,” he says, giving her a large bag.

What she pulls out is a 34-ounce bottle of lube. “I wish I could say I was surprised,” she says flatly.

Shrugging, Fandral turns to go.

Sharon rolls her eyes at her table before drawing the next name. “Sam,” she says blithely. “May it be less… something than mine.”

Sam snickers. “I think it will be,” Hannah offers, stepping forward with a large but lightweight box.

“Ooh.” Sam unwraps it and pulls out a soft blue blanket covered in red snowflakes. “Aw, thanks! This is nice.”

“I figured it would be big enough for snuggling,” she says.

“Thanks,” replies Sam, smiling warmly.

“Next is Karen!” Steve announces.

Karen is intrigued and more than a little afraid when her gift turns out to be from vaguely terrifying art gallery Vanessa, but it turns out to be some perfume that she’s fairly sure isn’t in the designated price point. “Thank you,” she says, sincere and awed.

“Of course,” Vanessa shrugs, smirking. “It’s wonderful to have those little things that just _feel_ expensive, no?”

“No,” Karen agrees. “I mean, yeah. Definitely.”

“Maria!” says Sam.

Maria’s vaguely apprehensive expression only becomes more so when Coulson approaches her table and hands her a bag. “Uh, thanks,” she says when she pulls out a bag of coffee. It’s Starbucks coffee, granted, so he did sort of make an effort.

He gives her a small smile. “No hard feelings?”

“None of those to begin with,” she says with a smirk. It’s not true, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Next, Fury!” says Sam.

“Wonderful,” deadpans Fury.

Karen practically skips over and hands him a bag, beaming. “I wanted to get something nice, so, ah, well.”

Fury eyes her warily as he rummages in the bag to pull out a grey-and-white scarf that’s obviously homemade. “Oh. Thank you,” he says, puzzled (and a little touched).

“You’re welcome,” Karen chirps.

Sam’s grinning as he calls the next name. “Jemma!”

Jemma is still holding Skye’s hand when she stands up, but she relaxes a bit when she sees it’s just Sharon coming over, announcing, “I figured you could use it for taking important science notes.”

“That’s very thoughtful!” Jemma says, but her smile falters a bit when she realizes just how long and how sturdy the ribbon around the moleskin notebook is as she unwinds it and how much Sharon is smirking.

“And, you know,” Sharon says, “useful gifts are always the best.”

Jemma’s eyes go wide. Skye snorts and puts both hands over her mouth to cover it.

Steve, who is just as aware of the joke as the others, takes pity on Jemma and calls out, “Thor!”

“Wonderful!” Thor waves from his table.

Darcy stands up and bounds over to hand him a box. “Very sincerely meant,” she says.

He grins as he unwraps it and laughs delightedly when it reveals a mug that reads WORLD’S BEST BROTHER IN LAW. “I am honored!” he says, standing up to sweep her into a bear hug.

Darcy grins. “I thought you might be,” she says, pointedly ignoring Jane’s frantic expression.

“Laura!” Steve exclaims, nodding at Laura as she stands and waves.

Bruce walks over and smiles shyly as he hands her a box. “Uh, I hope you like it.”

Her eyes go wide as she pulls a ceramic mug shaped like a cat’s head out. “How did you know I liked cats?” she exclaims.

“Oh, I asked around,” he says, scuffing his foot against the floor.

“I love it!” she giggles. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a grin, going back to his seat.

“Bucky!” says Sam.

Bucky waves, and Trish gets up to bring him an enormous box. “It wouldn’t fit in anything smaller,” she says apologetically.

He looks confused but then chuckles when he pulls out a large brown blanket covered in paw prints. “You heard about my dogs, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, I figured even if you had some blankets already, you could always use more,” she says with a smile.

“Well, Callie will chew on them if she gets bored, so I have been needing a new one. Thanks!”

“Skye’s next,” Sharon announces.

Very shyly, Kara approaches the kids’ table, holding out a very neatly wrapped box. “I heard you were looking for it,” she explains.

Skye looks puzzled but once she’s opened the box she yelps, “Oh my god!” and pulls the Gipsy Danger action figure out to show everyone. “I’ve been trying to find one of these for like a year!”

“I’m glad!” Kara says enthusiastically. “I was worried someone else might have gotten it for you or something.”

“No, ‘cause no one I know could find it for less than like fifty bucks,” says Skye. “Thank you!”

“You’re so welcome,” Kara grins. “I’m glad you’re glad.” She moves back to her seat, feeling very pleased with herself.

“Next, Victoria,” Steve announces.

Victoria waves and exchanges a bemused look with Heimdall, sitting at the table next to her. Irani comes over to hand her an apparently heavy box. “I suspect you could use these,” she says with a smile.

It’s a set of dishes, not ridiculously-colored dishes or impractically-shaped dishes but just plain normal dishes. Thank god. “I could,” she says, neither as coy or as sarcastic as she might be with someone else.

“Good,” says Irani with a satisfied nod.

“It’s appreciated,” Victoria adds as Irani returns to her seat.

“Coulson!” Sam calls.

Coulson smiles expectantly and Billy Koenig ambles over to him. “Merry Christmas,” he says cheerfully, handing Coulson the bag.

It turns out to be an LED pillar candle with art from _The Force Awakens_ around the outside. “Awesome!” says Coulson, grinning. “Thank you!”

“It changes colors!” says Billy. “I got one with Phasma on it for myself. It’s the coolest thing. You can also set it to candlelight mode and a couple other modes.”

Phil looks pleased and glances at Rosalind, who adopts a patronizing sort of smile.

“Next up, Carina!” says Sam.

Carina waves from her seat.

Sif brings her a small bag, looking a bit apprehensive. “I’m not very good with jewelry,” she says, “but I hope you like them anyway.”

The earrings Carina pulls out are slightly spiky, glittery, and partially pink. “They’re perfect, Sif,” she exclaims, “I promise.”

Sif smiles. “Good! I’m glad.”

“Bobbi!” Sharon calls.

It’s incredibly endearing when her name being called prompts Ian to start fumbling under the table to get a package wrapped in _Star Wars_ paper. “It makes sense to continue the theme,” he quips.

Bobbi very carefully slices the paper apart with her fingernail, and her jaw actually drops when she sees it’s an art book for _The Empire Strikes Back_. “You should win the night,” she tells him very seriously. “This is fucking awesome.”

Ian blushes. “I thought it might suit you.”

“Bruce, you’re up!” says Sam.

Bruce shyly waves, and Laura comes forward. “Funny how that works out,” she says, handing him a bag.

“Interesting coincidence,” agrees Bruce with a smile, pulling out an adult coloring book and some diffuser sticks. “Oh! I love these, thank you.”

“I, uh, I know coloring can be really relaxing,” she says. “I’ve got a couple of those myself. Surprisingly fun stuff.”

He nods. “My therapist recommended it to me awhile back, they’re very helpful. Thanks.”

“You’re so welcome,” Laura grins.

Steve reaches into the envelope. “Oh, it’s me!” he chuckles.

Pietro jogs over, swinging a bag from his hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to Steve.

Steve takes care to smile as he opens the bag and pulls out… what appears to be a sarcasm dictionary. He’s not sure if he’s being teased or not, so he’s cautious when he says, “Thank you?”

Pietro smiles at him. It’s his best attempt at sincerity. “I found it very helpful! I thought you might too.”

“I’m sure I will,” Steve replies, feeling more confident in the gift’s meaning now. “How about our next gift is for Pepper?”

“All right,” Pepper says gamely, waving.

Thor hops up, smiling. “I hope it is to your taste,” he says, handing her a good-size box.

What it turns out to be is a stylish but subtle red tablecloth with a modern, geometric sort of design. “It is,” she agrees, also smiling. “Very practical, thank you, Thor.”

“You are most welcome!” he says cheerfully.

Sam smiles and says, “Helen!”

“Good evening!” Helen chirps from her table. Heimdall brings her gift, smiling just slightly, and she opens it with efficiency and precision. It’s a pair of sunglasses from his store, plenty fancy and not too - obnoxious, perhaps, would be the right word - and she puts them on, grinning. “How do I look?”

“Very nice,” he says, smiling a bit more. “They suit you.”

She preens a bit. “Glad to hear it,” she says.

“Heimdall, you’re up next,” Sharon calls, nodding.

“Oh,” he says, pausing in his walk back to his table. “Very well.”

Volstagg practically bounds over with a giant plateful of brownies that have a cheerful red ribbon tied around them. “I couldn’t think how else to wrap them,” he says almost apologetically. “But I made them earlier today! And I only sampled one...or two.”

Heimdall chuckles. “Thank you, my friend, I’m sure they’re delicious.”

“Next is Eric!” Steve announces.

“Hi!” calls Eric. Hope strides up with an envelope and nods in a businesslike way.

“It seemed practical,” she says.

He grins when he pulls out a Sharper Images gift certificate. “Cool! Thanks!”

“Fitz!” Steve says.

Fitz glances up, almost nervously, and relaxes a little when he sees Jane coming over to the table. “Read the card first,” she says.

The card, incidentally, is inscribed with: _honestly, I was glad to draw the name of someone I’d actually know how to shop for. Happy holidays._

Smiling, Fitz unwraps the gift and pulls out a blue plush amoeba. “Thanks,” he says, grinning bashfully. “This is great.”

“I hoped you’d think that,” she says. “He, she, they, could be a little science mascot for you. Or something else that sounds less dorky.”

Chuckling, Fitz nods. “I’ll put it on my desk.”

“Hannah’s next!” says Sam.

Hannah spins around and smiles.

Eric Koenig ambles over, holding a small bag. “It’s not very big,” he says, “I hope that’s okay.”

Hannah opens it quickly and immediately gets misty-eyed (it’s a necklace with a pendant that’s a cross inside an angel wing). “It’s very sweet!” she insists, grinning. “Thank you so much.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he says with a smile.

“I do,” she promises, taking it out and putting it on.

“And very last is Volstagg!” Sharon says.

Volstagg grins and waves, and it’s Natasha who goes over to hand him his present. He grins wider when it turns out to be a soft blue sweatshirt (obviously from the Gap, but without the logo on the front). “Thank you!” he says, standing up to grab Natasha in a hug.

“You’re, uh, welcome,” she grunts, looking surprised about the hug.

Sam snickers. “Alright guys, thanks everybody for participating! And happy holidays! Feel free to hang out or leave, whatever you want.”

“Good,” mutters Fury as he grabs the bag with his new scarf and follows Irani out (who is rolling her eyes good-naturedly).


	75. distill a whole year down into a day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a variety of New Year's parties and events going on, and certain characters try their romantic luck (to varying degrees of success).

“Oh hey, you guys are...early,” says Rhodey, blinking in his doorway like he’s not sure whether to invite them in or not.

Clint shrugs. “Yeah, I just figured it was better than being late.” He holds up a six-pack of beer. “I brought this and also _Brave._ ”

“Cool, thanks. You can put that in the kitchen, I guess. Hey, Laura.” Rhodey waves at her.

“Hey,” Laura grins.  “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks.” Rhodey smiles back. “I mean, it’s functional. Hopefully it’ll do for tonight. You want anything to drink?”

“Do you have lemonade?” Laura asks.  “Not alcoholic lemonade because it’s only three in the afternoon, just lemonade lemonade.”

“Sure, yeah.” Rhodey ambles off toward the kitchen. “You can throw your jacket in the closet and your shoes by the door, if you want.”

“Perfect,” Laura says.  “Clint, want help with yours?”  His jacket, she means, since he’s still getting over his minor injuries.

“Yeah, thanks.” He wanders back over from where he’s put the beer and offers her an arm after unzipping said jacket.

Carefully, she takes his jacket from him and hangs it, asking Rhodey, “You hear about this goof’s big heroic rescue?”

“The dog? Yeah.” Rhodey laughs. “How’s that going, by the way?”

“Dog’s still with me. No one’s claimed him yet.” Clint sighs. “He keeps stealing pizza off my plate.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t happen if you didn’t eat pizza five times a week,” Laura teases.

“Only four times,” he protests with a smirk. “Dessert pizza doesn’t count.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Laura says, holding up her hands.  “It’s still more often than most people.”

“Sounds like the dog’s doing you a favor,” agrees Rhodey. “Are you just calling him ‘dog’ or…?”

“For now, yeah. Or ‘hey you’ or ‘stupid shit’ or ‘get off.’” Grinning, Clint says, “He’s not a bad dog, I just don’t want one.”

Laura catches Rhodey’s eye and stage-whispers, “The dog wants him, though.”

Natasha, opening the door at this exact moment, says idly, “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you, Laura?”

“Yes,” Laura replies without a trace of irony.  “Did you bring any snacks or movies, or did you just bring your sparkling wit?”

“Just myself. That’s all you need,” replies Natasha, tossing her hair.

“So arrogant,” chides Sharon, entering and nudging Natasha’s shoulder in an attempt to express distaste (it doesn’t work very well).

“Well, you know,” Steve adds, grinning, “that’s our Natasha, confident to the last.”

“Yup,” says Natasha cheerfully. “Anyway. Sam brought a cheese plate, where do you want it, Rhodey?”

“Kitchen’s fine.”

Sam wanders in with said cheese plate and comments, “I figured one of us had to bring something that wasn’t deep-fried or covered in butter.”

“These aren’t deep-fried!” Sharon protests, holding up a bag of Oreos.

“Christ,” groans Sam.

A polite knock heralds Pepper’s entrance.  “Well, I finally managed to get a babysitter,” she sighs.

“That’s a feat,” jokes Rhodey. “Beer?”

“Yes, please,” Pepper says, rolling her eyes.

Rhodey chuckles and brings her a bottle. “Alright, so I’m gonna toss in _Sleeping Beauty_ if nobody objects? It’s good background noise as people are coming in. And then I thought maybe _Lion King_ and _Wreck-It Ralph,_ and Clint brought _Brave._ ”

“Of course he did,” says Natasha, rolling her eyes fondly.

“That sounds great,” Sharon says, filling the role of “polite guest.”  “Should we make ourselves comfortable, or…?”

“Yeah, go ahead. There’s the couch, and chairs and cushions for the floor and stuff.” Rhodey glances over at Pepper. “So who’d you get to take Tony duty tonight?”

“Happy is taking him to that bar party,” Pepper explains.  “Bruce was doing something quiet and mellow with Mack and I’m pretty sure Howard is having some _event_ in the house for his allegedly more mature friends, which is sure to be a disaster worth avoiding, so it was the best option.”

Natasha snorts. “Good lord. Compared to those, the Disney movie party was _definitely_ the best option. At least you only have a couple with songs.”

“Disney musicals can be really good,” says Rhodey, mock-glaring at her. “At least I’m not showing you _Home on the Range_.”

“ _Home on the_ …?” asks Kara, who’s chosen a strange time to enter this conversation and room, possibly.

“Never mind,” groans Rhodey, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kara says, frowning.  “Um, Audrey’s just getting the snacks out of her car, she said to go along ahead and say hello.”

“No, it’s fine, it was just a really bad movie.” He smiles reassuringly at her. “How’re you doing? Have a good Christmas?”

“Yeah,” she says, fussing with her hair before returning the smile.  “I, ah, Karen and everyone, I spent the morning with them, and I was at Mike’s for dinner.  His kid is really sweet.”

“Good. Yeah, Ace is a good kid. I’m glad you had people with you. You want anything?”

Kara falters for a moment, suddenly seeming to realize that there are other people in the room.  “Water, I guess,” she says.  “For now.  That sounds like the best idea.”

“Okay. Want ice with that?”

“Sure,” she nods.  “Uh.  Hi!  Everyone.  Hi, everyone.  Not to interrupt.”

Steve, who’s been focused on French braiding Bucky’s hair, shrugs cheerfully.  “You’re fine, Kara,” he says.  “All we were doing was pretending to argue.”

“Hey, so do you wanna set up a time to go to the shelter pretty soon?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Kara says.  “Yeah, I’m moving in in a couple of days, so maybe not this Saturday but the next?  So I have time to get set up and all that.”

“Sounds good,” says Bucky.

“Yes, please,” chimes in Natasha. “So he can stop looking on all the shelter websites. I’m afraid _he_ might come home with another dog too.”

“That’s going around,” Laura observes, smirking.

Clint sighs. “Not for long it’s not.”

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Actually, wait a sec. Hey, Kara, you want a lab with one eye? He steals pizza.”

Kara makes a face, vaguely bewildered.  “I’m… I’ll consider it?”

“Cool. I mean, he’s a nice dog, I guess, aside from the pizza thing.”

“All right, who wants cookies,” Audrey calls as she enters, carrying trays of cookies. “We made what seems like too many because that will probably be enough.”

“There’s sugar and gingerbread,” Kara explains.

“Ooh, cookies,” Sam says. “I’ll take some!”

“Said the man complaining about cookies not five minutes ago,” Sharon narrates before she goes to claim a spot on the couch.

“Homemade, not completely processed cookies,” says Sam, smirking.

“Is this a routine with you guys?” Kara asks, smirking.

“Pretty much,” says Bucky. “Banter is a common occurrence.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Jones, slow down,” says Luke, as Jess downs her third shot. “You still have to pay for those.”

“Family discount,” snarks Jessica with a smirk.

“Family discount doesn’t mean ‘free,’” says Luke, “or ‘no limit.’”

“At least the family discount doesn’t mean she’ll be trying to drag me to three different bars within the hour,” Trish offers cheerfully.

Jessica rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, you had a good time.”

“Good in a disastrous way,” Trish corrects.

“Hey there,” says Quill, ambling up to the bar, “I see you haven’t got a drink in front of you. I can fix that for you, if you want.”

“So could my girlfriend,” Trish says, rolling her eyes.  “Or my boyfriend, the bartender.”

Luke waves. “You want something?” he asks Quill, trying to sound intimidating (but the grin he’s fighting back ruins the effect).

Quill sighs. “Just a whiskey, thanks. Goddammit.”

“Oh, rejection ruin your night?” asks Jessica in a fake-pitying tone.

“No, I’m kinda used to it.”

“Good.”

“Well, it beats ‘hey,  I remember you from the high school cheerleading squad, you’re still hot,’” Trish says once Quill has taken his whiskey and retreated.

Luke snorts. “Even I’m not low enough to use that.”

“Thank Christ,” says Nebula, sitting down at the bar. “Vodka tonic on the rocks?”

“Will do. Nice hair,” says Luke with a nod, turning to get her drink.

“Dye it myself.” Nebula waves Carina over, and she twirls up, giving Nebula a kiss on the cheek, then sticks her tongue out because she knows she can get away with it.

“I love your dress,” Trish tells Carina.

“It’s glittery,” says Nebula, and if she were talking about anyone else it would sound disdainful, but she keeps her tone neutral.

“It’s very appropriate for New Year’s,” Carina says, beaming.  “Thank you, Trish.”

“Know what else is appropriate for New Year’s?” Jessica asks, holding up another shot.

“Damn right,” Nebula replies with a smirk, taking a sip from the drink Luke hands her. “I like your style.”

“Nebula, this is Trish and Jessica and Luke,” Carina explains quickly. “Guys, this is Nebula, she’s my girlfriend and she likes tattoos and sarcasm.”

Nebula grunts a hello, which Jessica returns. Trish makes a beleaguered face.

“Hello,” says Laura, wandering over with Cessily in tow. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” She directs this to Luke.

“Yeah, hi. I’m Luke, I’ve only been here for a week and a half. You?”

“Laura. And this is Cessily. I think Nebula and Carina have already introduced themselves. Can I have a glass of whiskey?” She turns to Cessily. “What do you want?”

“Um, I’ll have a screwdriver, I guess?” Cessily smiles a little nervously and waves at Luke with her other hand. “I don’t know that much about alcohol.”

Luke smiles. “That’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“Between him being the bartender and this one -” Trish nods at Jessica - “Being… well, herself, they’ve got the alcohol expertise covered.  Probably a little too well.”

Shrugging, Jessica says, “I’m making friends, see?”

Gamora approaches, raising an eyebrow.  “Was that a requirement?”

Jessica snorts. “According to her, yeah.” She grins over at Trish. “Says I needed more friends besides her and Luke.”

“This is certainly one place to make them,” Carina offers with a grin like she thinks she’s being helpful.

“Or something like that,” says Luke, smirking. “You want anything, Carina?”

“I like things that taste like cake or strawberries,” she says.  “Possibly both at the same time.”

“Pretty sure I can find something for you,” he chuckles.

“Hey Gamora,” says Nebula, in a way that means she knows she’s being an asshole, “where’s your boyfriend?”

“My what?” Gamora asks, because she’s too startled by the word to think of something witty.

Conveniently, Mike enters just then, coming straight over to them. “Hey,” he says with a wave.

“That one.” Nebula nods.

Gamora’s eyes go wide, because she’s definitely too startled by _that_.

“What?” Mike asks, grinning. “What’d I do?”

“Nebula seems to think you and Gamora are dating,” says Laura with a shrug. “I don’t have enough evidence either way yet to come to a conclusion.”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for asking us along,” Maya (who’s the youngest in this group by a few years and feels it very distinctly) says, staring around the restaurant with wide eyes.

Victoria shrugs.  “Even I have enough of a heart to steer someone away from the Olive Garden on New Year’s Eve,” she says, the implication being, of course, that this privilege extends to Maya and Maria because they’re at least something like tolerable to her.

Maria snorts and replies, “Well, it’s not like we’d be even doing that otherwise, so I second the thanks. This is a nicer place than I’ve been to in a while.”

“Oh, that’s her doing,” says Isabelle, running a hand down Victoria’s arm. “She’s the classy one. I’m just along for the ride.”

“You’re very good at playing along,” Victoria promises, smirking.

“Gross,” Maya mouths to Maria, which makes Maria laugh.

“So how was your Christmas?” she asks, once she’s recovered. “I mean, forgive me for assuming you spent it together.”

“Together and blissfully un-Catholic,” Victoria says.  “Which is better than alone and blissfully un-Catholic, as would describe my recent Christmases past.”

“I can imagine,” replies Maria wryly. “Same for us, actually, sans the un-Catholic. Well, my brother’s family is non-religious in general, but still. Haven’t had the misfortune of Catholic Christmases.”

Isabelle rolls her eyes. “Lucky you. Heavy on the tradition, light on the enjoyment factor.”

“And incredibly awkward for those of us who might want to deviate from the set norm,” Victoria adds.

“I’m never happier that my mom is only overbearing about if I’m getting enough vitamins and spiritual exercise than when I hear about shitty family holidays,” Maya offers.  “The Tumblr posts about it, just litanies of nightmares like I can’t even imagine.”

That makes Isabelle chuckle. “At least it’s behind us now. And you?”

“I was, uh, well, I was planning on spending the day alone, like usual, but I wound up meeting Maria at her brother’s place,” Maya says.  “It was cute.  Weirdly normal.”

“Yeah, my niece just adored her,” adds Maria with a grin. “I mean, she loves anyone I bring with me, but y’know. That’s just usually in a different context.” She reaches over to squeeze Maya’s hand.

Of course, that makes Maya blush.  “Well, I’m still glad she did,” she says.  “I usually freak out with kids, so.  Welcome surprise, I guess.”

“I’m so glad that so few of us have _that_ impulse,” Victoria says, referring to their usual mall crowd and also childrearing.

“Oh, I love Aly to death, but I can give her back at the end of the day,” says Maria. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a kid twenty-four-seven.”

“And if they turned out to suck, I don’t know what I’d do,” Maya adds.  “With other people’s kids you can at least watch for that kind of thing before you involve yourself.”

Isabelle nods. “Good point. I don’t even really deal with kids at work, and that’s fully on purpose.”

“Yeah, can’t blame you,” says Maria. “I mostly get idiot teens trying to shoplift and that’s bad enough.”

Victoria raises her glass, smirking.  “To delightedly misanthropic queer childlessness.”

Maria laughs and taps her glass against Victoria’s. “Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

“So you should totally come over and play _Super Smash Bros_ with us sometime,” Skye’s saying.

The guy she’s been talking to at the bar looks a little surprised. “Uh, okay! Yeah, that sounds like fun. Haven’t played that in a long time.”

“Yeah, me neither, really. My girlfriend is terrible at it.”

“What am I terrible at?” Jemma asks, approaching with some vaguely fruity drink in hand.

“Oh, _Super Smash Bros_ ,” replies Skye, reaching to squeeze her hand. “I love you, but it’s true. This is Joey and he works at the arcade and I invited him over to play sometime.”

“Hi,” Joey says, grinning and waving.

Jemma waves back, pleasantly buzzed enough to not take offense to that.  “Hi!” she exclaims.  “You should.  I’m always Princess Peach and I am in fact terrible at it but it’s okay because I’m so cute.”

That makes Joey laugh a bit. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it. Skye sure seems to think so.”

“Yup.” Skye kisses Jemma’s cheek. “Where’s Bobbi and the boys?”

“Fitz is getting a table, Trip is guarding him from bar chaos, and Bobbi -”

“I’m right here,” Bobbi announces, coming up behind Jemma and wrapping an arm around her waist.  “Making sure at least some of you enjoy this terrible party.  Introductions?”

“Bobbi, Joey,” says Skye, gesturing to the appropriate people. “Joey I just met, and Bobbi is our, uh, third. Joey just moved here and works at the arcade.”

“Hey,” says Joey. “Nice to meet you. Are you at the mall too?”

“David’s Bridal, which is a hilarious disaster,” Bobbi says casually.  “The mall social life is much better than the mall professional life.”  This with a nod to the girls.

Chuckling, Joey replies, “Well, that’s good, I guess. I didn’t have a lot of friends in Seattle, except my ex, and he, well...is my ex now. So.”

“Least your ex isn’t also your unwilling frequent bartender,” Bobbi chirps.

“You sound like you’re not just speaking hypothetically.”

“Alas, no,” she sighs dramatically.  “The Applebee's across the street from the mall?  Frequent, convenient gathering place?  My ex-husband tends bar there.  And he’s a bitter sort of man.”

“Definitely an arse,” Jemma agrees.

Joey’s eyes widen a little. “God, I’m sorry. That sounds horrible.”

“I mean, he’s not _that_ bad,” says Skye. “Just sighs a lot and rolls his eyes when we’re there.”

“Compared to my other local ex, whose only crime is staring at me like he’s recently been electrocuted whenever I do something noteworthy, it’s not a picnic,” Bobbi shrugs.

“My ex was just a health nut,” shrugs Joey. “I mean, I eat okay, and I ride my motorcycle a lot, but that’s it really.”

“You have a bike?” Skye asks, perking up. “That’s awesome!”

He shrugs modestly. “I mean, I like it.”

“Hey,” says a new voice, belonging to one Tony Stark, who has ambled over to sit himself on Joey’s other side. “Couldn’t help but overhear you like bikes.”

Skye rolls her eyes and makes a face at Bobbi and Jemma. “Good grief,” Jemma mutters.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” says Joey, confused. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tony. And you are?”

“Joey.”

“Haven’t seen you around here before. You just move here or something? Need someone to show you around?”

“Yeah, I’m new, I guess,” says Joey with a chuckle. “Skye and Bobbi were just telling me about how stuff is around here.”

“Yeah, they do that.” Tony shrugs. “So, you in the market for a riding partner? I mean, I haven’t been on a bike in a while but I learn quickly.”

“I, uh…” Joey blinks.

“Are you really talking about bicycles?” Bobbi asks.

“I mean, however you want to interpret it,” says Tony, trying way too hard to act nonchalant.

“Been awhile since I’ve been hit on in a bar,” replies Joey with a laugh. “You seem nice, but I’m gonna have to pass. I don’t wanna rush into anything.”

There’s a shadow of disappointment on Tony’s face, but he quickly recovers (or at least, looks like he does) and nods. “Okay. Well, like I said, name’s Tony Stark if you change your mind.” He oh-so-casually drops one of his business cards on the counter in front of Joey.

Bobbi waits until Tony is wandering away to say, “Good call.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s the resident poor little rich boy,” says Skye. “Not the worst or anything, but kind of an asshole. I guess he’s already gone through all the girls in town who would have him and decided to expand his horizons.”

“Or he’s only recently realized his horizons’ full extent,” Jemma shrugs.  “But he’s still a creep.”

“His friend is dating my best guy friend and there has been drama,” Bobbi says.

“Oh. I guess I dodged a bullet, then.”

“You really did,” nods Skye.

“Who has been shot at?” asks Drax, who came up during Tony’s flirting and has been nursing a beer a few stools down. “Do you require medical attention?”

Skye snickers. “No, no, it’s fine. Tony was flirting with Joey here and we were telling him that saying no was a good idea.”

Drax nods. “I see. Stark is an excellent drinking companion and party host, but from what I have seen, he would be a terrible person to be in a relationship with.”

“So I heard,” says Joey. “You are?”

“Drax.” Drax puts out his hand. “I am not actually going to shake your hand, as I am told that’s very rude, but I will clasp it and move it up and down in a friendly gesture of greeting.”

Joey laughs. “Okay.” He takes Drax’s hand and yelps when Drax’s handshake turns out to be very enthusiastic. “Nice to meet you, Drax, I’m Joey.”

“I overheard that you recently moved here,” says Drax, “and that you like motorcycles. I have never ridden a motorcycle before. Is it an enjoyable experience?”

As Joey starts to explain, Skye nudges Bobbi and Jemma. “Let’s let them talk,” she says, eyes gleaming.

“Oi!” calls Fitz, waving. “Table over here!”

“We’d better go join,” Jemma says, beginning to wander in that direction.

Skye calls a goodbye to Joey, who nods in response before continuing his sentence.

 

* * *

 

They’re in the middle of “Hakuna Matata” when Rhodey pokes Clint’s arm and says, “So, how’s it going?”

“Uh. Fine?” Clint asks, looking completely baffled.

“You know what I mean,” says Rhodey, making exaggerated head motions toward Laura.

“Tasha said he sent her a string of heart emojis when Laura spent the night after his party,” says Bucky quietly. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“She showed you that? Ah, jesus,” sighs Clint. “Look, she was too tired to drive and so was I. That’s all.”

Rhodey chuckles. “Sure, Clint. Sure.”

“Also, it’s not like he’s been in any condition to do anything… canoodley,” Laura chimes in, because she’s heard the whole conversation.

Clint puts his head in his hands. Natasha snickers.

“More alcohol,” Sharon suggests.  “I’ll do a run, who wants?”

Sam, Steve, and Natasha raise their hands, as well as Clint and Laura.

“Preferences, or just have at?”

“Beer’s fine,” says Sam, and Steve and Clint nod.

When “Can You Feel The Love Tonight?” begins, Audrey (who’s nursing a beer of her own) announces, “In the stage production, this number is essentially an erotic aerial tree ballet.”

Bucky snorts. “A what now?”

“There are dancers suspended from the ceiling doing an erotic ballet in the fake forest,” Audrey says.  “The show is weird.  At one point Scar very dramatically sniffs Nala’s crotch.”

“Jesus,” says Clint. “And this is for kids?”

“Not necessarily,” says Rhodey quickly. “It’s an all-ages show, but it is darker than the Disney movie. And I mean, it’s all based on _Hamlet_ anyway.”

“You know what makes _Hamlet_ better?” Sharon asks.  “Everyone being read by girls so it’s very very queer.”

Kara giggles.  “Oh my,” she murmurs.  “That sounds…”

“One of the advantages of all-girls’ schools,” Sharon chirps.  “Accidentally queering all your favorite classic literature.”

“Or least favorite, I imagine,” Pepper chimes in.

Natasha snorts. “I never had the patience for it.”

“I never had the patience for any of that,” says Sam with a grin. “Books are fine. Books by dead white dudes? Nah.”

“Dead, straight, complaining, entitled white dudes,” Pepper corrects with a smile.  “How many male novelists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?  War is hell.”

Laura cracks up and raises her bottle in a silent toast.

 

* * *

 

“Brother, come and have a drink!” coaxes Thor. “You can’t spend all evening sulking.”

“I can and I will,” Loki replies petulantly.

“What’s the issue now?” Darcy (currently wrapped around Rogue) asks.

“He thinks New Year’s Day is an arbitrarily chosen and ridiculous holiday,” says Sif with a roll of her eyes.

Fandral laughs. “I suspect he’s more upset that he won’t have anyone to kiss at midnight.”

Sif pretends not to have heard him and stares very intently at her napkin.

“I come bearing shots,” Linnea says, nodding back to Luke at the bar before she sets a tray on the table.  “And water, for our DDs.”

“Thank you, Linnea,” Hannah says sweetly.

Hogun takes the other water with a grateful nod.

“Hey Rogue,” says MJ, wandering over holding a drink, “guess what happened?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess.”

“So there’s a new guy, Joey? And I guess Tony tried to score with him, but Joey said no, and then once he was gone Drax came over. And they’ve been talking for like half an hour.”

“Score for Drax!” Darcy exclaims, grinning.  “Also, I am not surprised in the slightest.  Tony’s not exactly a super-catch.”

“It’s a damn shame, he could be useful if he tried,” Jane sighs.  “But he’d rather score than do anything and just reserve his academic talents for bragging rights.  Yuck.”

Melinda smirks. “Good for new guy for avoiding it.”

“I didn’t know Drax liked men,” says Fandral.

“How would you, when he’s never hit on you?” Sif teases.

“A fair point.”

Matt, Foggy, Karen and Claire enter the bar, Claire waving at Jessica. “Can I have a beer?” she asks Luke. “You three want anything?”

“Tequila!” Karen exclaims, grinning.  “Happy New Year.”

From over in the corner, Loki moans and calls, “The designation of a ‘new year’s day’ is entirely arbitrary and makes no sense to be placed in the middle of winter.”

“Still a good reason to have tequila,” Karen calls back.

“I’ll have a beer too,” says Foggy, and Matt nods.

“Coming right up,” replies Luke.

Jessica looks them over. “You guys look happy.” She sounds vaguely disgusted, but Claire knows she means well.

“I don’t know why they wouldn’t,” Trish says, raising an eyebrow.

Jessica shrugs. “Law school still kicking your ass, Murdock?”

“Unfortunately,” Matt replies with a grin. “But we’re gonna pull through, right, Fog?”

Foggy nods and grabs one of the beers Luke slides over to them. “To ancient times and distant music!” He and Matt clink their beers together and take sips.

Karen giggles.  “You guys are so weird.”

“And yet, you live with us and spend eighty percent of your time with us,” says Foggy, grinning.

Claire smirks. “Sucker.”

“I never said I minded that you guys were so weird,” Karen says.  “Just observing.  Since I have eighty percent of my time’s worth of evidence to back it up.”

Matt smiles. “Fair enough. And how are you all doing tonight?”

“Perfectly comfortable,” Trish says, as if that’s an appropriate answer for the situation.

“Just fine,” says Mike, taking a sip of his drink.

“All in all it’s been an acceptable night at the bar,” Gamora says.  “No karaoke yet, so that’s a definite plus.”

Jessica snorts. “Jesus, I hope there’s no karaoke. That’s the last thing we need.”

“Oh, you’ll be especially happy to be spared Quill singing karaoke,” Gamora adds.

“That’s the guy from earlier, right?” Jessica asks. “Good. He’s enough of a pain in the ass when he’s just talking.”

“Imagine being business partners with him,” Gamora sighs.  “I’m just lucky he’s next door most of the time.”

Luke chuckles. “Could be worse, yeah. How’s the shop doing?”

“It’s doing all right,” Gamora shrugs.  “Not quite time for the January-February rush of lovers looking for tattoos and kids having been inspired to rebel by holidays with their shit families, but it’s all right.”

“Is that a thing?” Mike asks, looking amused. “I had no idea.”

“The former more than the latter,” Gamora says.  “Ink is a way of saying ‘I love you forever’ that you can’t drop down the sink, I guess.  Always seems like a horrible idea to me, but they’re paying.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” replies Mike cheerfully.

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” chimes in Nebula, “especially if they come in later wanting a coverup job. I mean, she’ll do it, but it’s a pain in the ass.”

“Hello everyone!” Drax says, coming over with Joey in tow. “This is Joey! He and I have been talking for a long time. He rides motorcycles and I am convincing him he should get a tattoo.”

“Hey,” says Joey, grinning. “So you must be Gamora, huh?”

“That’s me,” Gamora says, smirking.  “A tattoo of what?”

“Oh, I dunno, I’ve never really thought about it.” Joey shrugs. “Drax is really convincing though. He says you guys do great work.”

Nebula rolls up her jacket to show off her robot arm. “Drax is doing my sleeve for me.”

“Woah.” Joey’s eyes widen. “That’s awesome!”

“He did my wings for me, too,” Gamora says, and she’s looking more at Mike than Joey when she adds, “but only a few people get to see those.”

Mike grins kind of shyly and takes another sip of his drink. Nebula rolls her eyes.

“Did I miss something?” Carina asks Nebula quietly.

“Oh, they’re just dancing around each other again,” murmurs Nebula. “Shit better happen soon.”

“Where do you work, Joey?” Trish asks, because that’s a safe topic of conversation.

“Oh, I just started at the arcade last week. It’s not glamorous or anything, but it pays the bills. You?”

“I hostess at Applebee's and in my free time I run a podcast,” she says.

“Oh, what about? I like podcasts.”

“Lifestyle, which is a nice word for whatever the hell I feel like,” she chirps.

“Yeah, she got some decent guests back when we lived in New York, but thanks to my stalker ex, we had to move,” says Jessica. “So hopefully you can find somebody here for that.”

Trish shrugs cheerfully.  “Hopefully, but you being safe is more important than my podcast,” she says. Jessica turns to give her the smallest genuine smile before she pastes on her usual indifferent face.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for a nice dinner,” says Maria. “And alcohol. Happy new year.”

“You too,” Victoria says.  “Thank you for an evening of conversation that wasn’t inane in a room where we could actually hear ourselves think.”

Isabelle chuckles. “Fun plans for the rest of the evening, you two?”

Maya goes pink.  “Just… things,” she says.  “Probably watching movies about murder or something.”

“Uh huh.” Isabelle smirks and adds, “Well, enjoy that. We’ll be having our own fun.”

“Fun is good,” Maya says.

Maria nudges her with her shoulder. “That’s the wine talking?”

Maya shrugs.

“You’re sort of cute together,” Victoria offers.  “Don’t tell anyone I said so.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” says Maria with a wink.

 

* * *

 

Rhodey’s getting up to put in _Brave_ , and half of the guests have arranged themselves in snuggle piles - Clint and Laura, Steve and Bucky, and Kara’s even been pulled into a loose cuddling arrangement with Natasha and Sharon.

“Well, this is charming,” Audrey murmurs, grinning.

“Y’all are gross,” says Rhodey with a grin.

“And proud of it,” murmurs Natasha.

“I actually haven’t seen this one yet,” Kara says.  “The movie.  I kept meaning to, but.”

“It’s really good,” calls Clint. “It’s about an archer who doesn’t want to marry anybody and there’s magic and shit. I won’t spoil it, though.”

“Magic and shit,” Sharon repeats.  “That’s one way of putting it.”

Clint shrugs. “Being vague on purpose, y’know.”

“And she’s a redhead,” Pepper adds.  “Actual somewhat-realistic redhead, not that primary color _Little Mermaid_ stuff.  Which, nothing against Ariel, but.”  She sips her beer and shrugs.

Natasha nods. “And mother-daughter stuff. That doesn’t do anything for me, but it’s cool to have a movie about it.”

“Aw, yeah, I bet,” Kara nods.

“Doesn’t suffer from ‘dead Disney parent’ syndrome, so that’s nice,” Audrey agrees.

Kara makes a sympathetic face, though who the sympathy is aimed at is unclear.  “That’s good too.”

“Okay, I’m pushing play now,” says Rhodey. “Cut the chatter or take it outside so Kara can watch.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow at Natasha; Natasha smirks back.

 

* * *

 

“Five minutes!” yells Tony.

“Thank god,” mutters Happy.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who gets midnight?” Ian says to Rogue, surprisingly cheerful.

Rogue laughs. “Sure, sounds good.” She puts out her fist and smirks.

“Look at you two compromising,” Darcy hums.

“Can we get out of here by 12:05?” Jane asks Thor.

Thor nods. “Of course, my love. Hogun, would you be willing to drive us home?” Hogun nods agreements.

Fandral, who has drunk enough that he’s currently exhibiting the less charming aspects of his personality, is leaning over the table to smirk at Loki. “And where’s _your_ lady fair?” he asks.

“I don’t know who you could possibly be referring to,” sniffs Loki.

“Lorelei, of course! I haven’t seen her around in ages. Where is she?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Come now, Fandral, leave him be,” says Thor. “You have your own lady to attend.”

Linnea, finishing her cocktail, rolls her eyes and waves.

“Ah, you’re so right,” says Fandral, going over to her.

“You sure know how to romance them,” Linnea drawls.

“You have other options,” teases Sif.

Linnea glances from Sif to Hannah to Claire and Matt across the room.  “Taken or straight or taken,” she shrugs.  “This is acceptable.”

“My sympathies.” Sif reaches for Melinda’s hand, who lets her take it without protest and even smiles a little about it.

“Why’s your friend dating such an ass?” Karen asks Claire, nodding in Linnea’s direction.

Claire rolls her eyes. “I don’t claim to understand _anything_ she does. Especially him.”

“Maybe he’s as good as he likes to brag at… certain things,” Karen suggests.

“Doubtful,” Matt replies. “But certainly possible.”

Karen shrugs.  “People are weird,” she says.  “Wanna be my midnight kiss, Foggy?”

“Happy to do it,” he says cheerfully.

“Two minutes!”

Carina finishes her drink.  “Here’s to another… something,” she says to Nebula.

Nebula snorts. “Yeah.” But she also squeezes Carina’s hand.

Mike and Gamora are standing next to each other awkwardly. “Um,” he says, glancing away. “So.”

“So,” she repeats, making a face.

“D’you, uh…” He pauses. “I feel like an idiot saying it. Are you a kissing at midnight person?”

“I’ve honestly never thought about it,” Gamora says.

“Oh, me neither,” he says quickly, “but, uh…”

“One minute!”

“-wouldyouwanna?” It comes out as one word, and he feels ridiculous, like he’s back in high school again.

Gamora’s eyes go wider than she’d like to admit.  “Kiss you?” she asks, because it’s clearly something that needs to be clarified (it’s not).

“Uh. Yeah. I mean if you don’t want to that’s okay, but…”

“Thirty seconds!”

“Oh my god,” Carina whispers, nudging Nebula.

Nebula’s watching her sister and Mike, absolutely fascinated.

“Ten!” Darcy shouts, and the rest of the bar starts counting along.

“Happy new year!” yells Tony, once the countdown’s over.

Shyer than she’d like to admit, Gamora steps forward and takes Mike’s hand, nodding, and Mike leans in to kiss her gently on the lips.

Nebula’s too busy kissing Carina to pay attention when it starts, but when she pulls back and they’re _still_ kissing, she claps (a bit sarcastically).


	76. everything changes, my heart's at the wheel now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara moves into her new apartment with the help of some friends.

“Do you need any assistance in getting your things together?” Drax asks.

“I think I’m ready,” Kara says. “I mean, most of the big stuff is still over at Karen’s.”

“Alright! Would you like me to prepare breakfast? I am told I’m very good at toast! And though I haven’t made pancakes very often, I am willing to try.”

“Toast is all right,” she nods, smiling. “I don’t want to fill up so much I don’t want to move anything around.”

He nods. “Very well! Would you care for butter or jam or peanut butter? Or Nutella? I find Nutella to be very satisfying.”

“Just butter,” she says. “But thank you for the choices.”

“Of course! I’ll come let you know when it’s ready.” He heads for the kitchen, stopping to pet Swift, who bounces up to him before coming to greet Kara.

“Hey, pup,” she giggles, scritching Swift behind the ears. “I hope you’re open to playdates soon.”

Swift noses at her before going to lie down nearby.

After a few minutes Drax comes over to her (not that she wouldn’t have known the toast was done anyway, Drax’s apartment isn’t exactly huge), grinning. “All ready! I have put yours on the table, along with my first four pieces. There are more toasting now.”

‘Thank you,” she says, standing up and heading over to the table. “Thank you again for helping out with this, Drax.”

“I’m happy to do so! We are friends, and you were unhappy.”

Kara shrugs, a tiny bit uncomfortable discussing feelings. “Well, it’s really cool of you.”

Drax begins shoving the toast into his mouth, looking content. Kara is somewhat daintier about it, but she doesn’t shy away from eating her own breakfast by any means.

Once Drax has finished (about half the loaf), he grins and says, “Are you ready to leave?”

She nods. “I’m excited and also nervous, which means I think it’s time.”

 

* * *

 

“Damn,” Kara says under her breath, stepping into the empty apartment and staring at all of its… newness. “This is really happening.”

“It is!” agrees Drax. “It is happening at this very moment because that’s how time works.”

“That’s weirdly comforting.”

“Good,” he says.

There’s a knock at the door and, when Kara checks the peephole, it’s Akela. “Hello,” she says when Kara opens the door. “I saw your text and thought I would give you a few minutes to finish with the landlord before I came over.”

“That’s really considerate, thank you,” Kara says, sounding almost surprised. “We’re kind of waiting on Karen and the boys to bring over my other boxes, but… donuts?” She glances affectionately at Drax. “Someone had a craving.”

“Donuts are delicious!” says Drax cheerfully, grabbing another.

“Yes, I’ll have one,” says Akela. She takes one and then adds, “Oh, I have something for you but I forgot it in my apartment. Wait a moment.” She leaves and returns with a large, simply-wrapped package.

“You didn’t need to,” Kara says immediately. “But thank you.” She sets about tearing the paper and soon reveals a reasonably-sized but clearly nice coffee maker. “Aw, seriously, thank you!” she repeats.

Akela nods. “I have the same one. It’s very functional. I figured you could use one.”

“Yeah, totally,” Kara agrees. “I should make coffee for people! Although…” She makes a face, because there aren’t any coffee-making supplies in the empty apartment.

“Would you like me to go buy some coffee beans?” Drax asks. “It is difficult to make coffee without coffee beans.”

“Could you?” Kara asks. “I’m sorry, not to make you go running around for me.”

“I will not be running! I will be driving.” Drax grabs his keys from where he tossed them on the kitchen counter. “Is there anything else you would like?”

“Paper towels,” Kara says. “And cups, just disposable ones. Just in case.”

“I will get them!” calls Drax as he leaves.

Akela and Kara stare at each other awkwardly for a moment. “I’m glad you made it here safely,” Akela says finally.

Kara has a feeling that Akela doesn’t just mean here, from Drax’s place to this apartment, and she smiles. “I’m glad too,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without everyone.”

“I would still like very much to hurt him,” adds Akela.

“Yeah, you and me both,” Kara mutters, shaking her head. “But I’m not going to let him win, and if anyone else gets hurt by him, he wins.”

“That’s wise,” Akela nods. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt him if given the opportunity.”

“And I can’t promise I’d stop you,” Kara says. “But I’m more concerned with everyone else staying okay.”

Akela nods. “I won’t do anything reckless. Probably.”

The buzzer goes off and Kara jumps. “Going to have to get used to that,” she says apologetically as she goes for the door, behind which are Karen and Matt and Foggy.

“Hey,” Karen exclaims, grinning. “Lemme get this box set down and then I’ll give you a hug, okay?” She sets a box (labeled CLOTHING) on the floor before flinging her arms around Kara.

“I wasn’t planning on hugging you,” says Foggy, who’s holding another box, “but I feel that.”

Kara giggles. “It’s appreciated,” she says. “Donuts?”

“Please,” says Matt, smiling. “Hi, Kara.”

“They’re on the counter,” Kara offers. “Hi! I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“Where do you want this bag?” Matt asks, referring to the duffelbag that’s slung over his shoulder.

“Uh, anywhere, for now,” Kara hesitates. “The bedroom, I guess? Everything is going to get moved around anyway.”

“I’ll get it,” says Foggy. “You have a donut, Matt.”

“Your attempts to baby me are noted,” replies Matt with a smirk.

“Nah, I just don’t want to lead you over here,” calls Foggy. “I’m a lousy seeing-eye dog.”

“Drax went out to get coffee-making things, too,” Kara says, going into the kitchen to start setting up her new coffee maker. “Since Akela brought me this.”

“Aw,” Karen coos. “I’m sure we’ll get good use out of it today.”

Akela shrugs. “It seemed like a good idea.”

“Oh, I brought some cleaning stuff too,” Foggy says, “but I left it in the car. I’ll go get it.”

“Then make another trip for boxes,” Karen instructs, smiling. “Lots to get done.”

Foggy, Karen, Akela, and Kara work on hauling the boxes upstairs while Matt acts as the glorified doorman. When Drax returns with the coffee, Kara pauses to start making coffee while the others finish the unloading job.

While they’re all at the car, Matt says, “How are you feeling?”

“Really good,” Kara says. “Kind of jittery, but in a good way.”

“I bet,” says Matt with a chuckle. “It’ll be good to stop moving for a while.”

“Yeah, it really will.” Kara sighs. “Having someplace that’s mine again. Just mine. Not… not mine but tainted.”

“I get it. Starting somewhere new.”

Foggy and the others traipse in with the final load. “Okay,” he says cheerfully, setting his box down. “Let’s get to work!”

“First things first, figuring out which boxes need to be where,” Karen says.

“I’ll go listen for the buzzer,” says Matt good-naturedly. “The furniture and stuff is supposed to show up soon, right?”

“Soon, yeah,” Kara agrees. “Thank you, Matt.” She goes to lift one of the smaller boxes and nods toward the bedroom. “Help me start sorting?”

Foggy holds up a bottle of 409 and the paper towel roll. “I’m gonna clean!”

“You know it’s a new apartment, right?” Karen teases.

“New to you,” says Foggy with a shrug. “But previously occupied. Can’t hurt anything, and I dunno if you want me going through your stuff.”

Kara considers this, then nods. “I don’t mind, have at.”

She and Karen drag clothes boxes into the bedroom. “I don’t figure you actually wanna keep all of this,” Karen says, “but it’s all packed, ‘cause I didn’t wanna presume.”

“Thanks,” Kara says. She opens one of the boxes and immediately makes a face. “Can we have just a trash pile?”

“Like, for giving away?”

“Like, for throwing in the actual garbage,” Kara says. “There’s the things like this -” she takes out a red sweater with the sleeve torn - “that are actually trash, no thanks to the asshole and his fondness for playing rough, and things like this -” here she holds up a flimsy pink nightie - “that have been defiled to the point where I wouldn’t want to wish that on anyone.”

Karen grabs the sweater, then tosses it by the door. “Trash pile,” she declares.

From the bathroom, where Foggy and Drax are supposed to be cleaning, Foggy grumbles, “You need to actually scrub, you can’t just run the paper towel over the floor.”

“But this is not a scrub brush,” protests Drax. Foggy sighs.

Luckily, the buzzer sounds soon after that and then Drax and Akela are working to assemble the couch, which they both seem to enjoy more than cleaning or unpacking dishes.

“Everything going okay out there?” Kara calls.

“Yes,” says Akela. “Mostly.”

“The instructions are a bit difficult!” says Drax. “But we will have it assembled soon.”

“Thank you,” Kara and Karen chorus.

“I’m certainly enjoying listening to this,” says Matt, sounding amused.

“Is that a good thing?” Karen shouts, giggling.

“I think so.”

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, the apartment has a cabinet, a television stand, and a dining table as well as the couch, and the cable guy has come and set everything up. Everyone is variously draped over the couch or on the floor as they wait for the bed delivery.

“Drax, you guys have a big dumpster at your store, right?” Karen asks.

“Yes! It is large enough to store a body in. Not that I’ve done that, but that’s what Gamora said when she saw it.”

“Why do you ask?” Akela says.

“Oh, I have a pile of clothes that are physically and/or emotionally,” Kara says. “Need a place to dump it.”

“You’d be welcome to!” replies Drax. “But wouldn’t it be more satisfying to burn it? You could also use the parking lot for that.”

Karen bursts out laughing. “You serious?”

“Yes! I find fire to be very comforting.”

“Is that, y’know,” Kara begins. “Is that legal?”

Drax shrugs. “No one has ever bothered me when I’ve done it.”

“I don’t know that you would actually be prosecuted for it,” chimes in Foggy. “Considering there’s a literal Nazi gang problem around here and all, I think the decent cops have bigger things to worry about.”

“Besides,” adds Matt playfully, “Nelson and Murdock could represent you.”

Drax laughs. “Indeed!”

“And if some of the indecent cops showed up, I guess it’d be another matter entirely,” Karen muses.

Akela nods. “I think we could take care of them.”

“We definitely could,” says Matt, and Foggy yelps in protest.

“I wouldn’t mind watching it go up in smoke,” Kara says, getting them back on subject.

“That sounds fun, yeah,” Karen agrees.

Foggy glances at her, eyes wide. “The more I learn about you the more unsettled I become.”

Karen shrugs cheerfully. “You’ve never had an ex-related bonfire?”

“No…”

“You’re missing out,” Karen says.

Foggy seems about to respond, but the buzzer interrupts him. Once Akela has gone to let the delivery person in, he says, “Well, on a totally different note, do you have a shower curtain hiding somewhere?”

“My old place had one of the sliding doors,” Kara says, frowning. “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s okay,” says Matt. “We can go get one for you if you want.”

“I just realized, too, I need an end table or something,” Kara says. “For by my bed. And probably a lamp or something. I really should have made a checklist.”

“We could make a Target run while they put the bed together,” Karen suggests. “And you’ll probably think of five other things you need while we’re there.”

“Is that… I mean, would that be okay?” It’s aimed mostly at Drax and Akela, the latter of whom has returned during the conversation.

Akela shrugs. “That’s fine. We can figure it out.”

“I think it will be easy,” says Drax.

“You guys kick ass,” Kara says affectionately. “Do you need anything while we’re out?”

“I am becoming quite hungry and would like some food, such as pizza,” replies Drax. Akela nods agreement.

“Oh, yeah, we could totally pick up pizza,” Karen says. “I know what the boys like, what about you two?”

Drax grins. “I like pizza, I have no preference as to toppings.”

“Just cheese is fine,” Akela adds.

“Cool,” Kara says, chuckling. “Easy to remember.”

“You wanna head out?” Karen asks.

“Probably sooner rather than later,” Kara agrees.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, Karen, we’re not going near any sweaters today,” says Foggy mock-sternly as they enter the store.

“Not even so Kara can replace some of the ones we’re settin’ on fire later?” Karen asks, wheedling. She’s mostly just messing around, though.

“You guys can come back later for them if you want,” Foggy replies, “but this trip is about practical things.”

“Sweaters are practical!”

“Non-wearable practicals.”

“Fine,” Karen groans, mock-affronted. She turns to Kara to add, “But after work some day this week, I’ll bring you back for a sweater run.”

Matt chuckles. “You two have fun. Karen’s very good at clothes shopping.”

“I bet she is,” Kara says warmly. “She’s always very put-together. It’s admirable.”

“Aw, gosh,” Karen giggles. “So where’s our first stop, then?”

“Well, shower curtain, nightstand, probably dishes because I’m sure I don’t have enough for everyone to eat pizza off of,” Kara says. “A lamp. Soda or beer or something.” She looks expectantly at Foggy for guidance.

“Towels. Washcloths, if you use those. A trashcan. Toilet plunger. Toilet paper and laundry stuff. Honestly we should probably just take a walk around all the home and cleaning areas. And a tablecloth.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a tablecloth,” Kara admits.

“Well now you will!” says Foggy cheerfully. “Am I forgetting anything, Matt?”

“I’m really not the person to be asking about housewares.”

“Let’s just get started,” Karen says, taking Kara by the arm very gently and pointing her toward the home sections.

“Towels!” says Foggy, leading the way.

“How many do you think I need?” Kara asks, sounding vaguely bewildered.

“I mean, bath towels, probably a hand towel or two, washcloths, dish towels.” Foggy shrugs.

“So lots of towels,” Karen summarizes. “Foggy, turn back and grab a cart? This isn’t gonna be a ‘hold it in your arms’ trip.”

Foggy nods and dutifully leaves to get the cart.

“I had no idea this was all so complicated,” says Matt with a grin.

“Well, when you get started, you keep thinking of new things you need,” Kara says.

“And the great thing about Target is, nine times outta ten you’ll find the new things a couple aisles over!” Karen adds, grinning.

“New, reasonably-priced, acceptable things,” Kara says.

“Makes sense,” agrees Matt.

“Did you have a color scheme you wanted to stick with?” Karen asks Kara.

“Uh,” Kara says, making a face. “Not… ugly?”

Karen giggles. “Promise I would never let you do that.” She leads them over to the rack of towels.

Foggy shows up while they’re contemplating. “Anything picked out yet?”

“I’m ruling out yellow,” Kara declares. “And brown, probably.”

“It’s a start,” he says, nodding approvingly.

“Okay.” Kara considers the towels very thoughtfully. “Well, blue makes sense for a bathroom, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure. Blue or green are pretty common.”

“Okay, how about these, then?” Kara asks, motioning to a set of turquoise towels.

“You don’t need to ask anyone’s permission,” Matt reminds her gently. “If you like them, you should buy them.”

Kara bites her lip. “I think I like them,” she says, “it’s just… hard to tell, sometimes.”

“We could put a couple different styles in the cart and you could think about it?” Karen suggests.

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “Yeah, let’s… do that. Thinking about it.”

“Also if you take them home and then change your mind, you can return them,” says Matt.

“Well, not if I’ve used them already,” Kara says, laughing nervously.

“If you don’t like them, we’ll find something else to do with them!” says Foggy.

“You guys are sweet,” Kara says, loading a few turquoise towels and some gray ones into the cart before heading over to the display of shower curtains. “At least none of these are covered in paintings of tropical fish,” she jokes.

“Is that a thing?” Matt asks.

“Unfortunately,” Kara says. “Or like, sandcastles. Under the sea scenes. Always made me feel more like I was drowning in the bathtub.”

Foggy looks startled. “So none of that, then!”

“I’m sorry, that’s horribly morbid,” Kara says, shaking her head. “I like this one, it’s very airy.” As she motions to a vaguely lacelike white curtain.

“Morbid is okay,” Matt reassures.

“Okay, well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Kara frets, putting the curtain in the cart decisively.

Matt laughs. “You won’t make me uncomfortable, I promise. Nor Karen, I think. Foggy will live.”

Foggy blows a raspberry at him.

Kara giggles, but she very justly decides to move across the aisle, proclaiming, “End tables. I should pick one out.”

“Good idea!” says Foggy. “Do you want one that’s a cabinet or one that’s more like a table with a drawer in it? Or, I guess, how much do you want to be able to put in it?”

“Honestly, probably the second?” Kara deliberates. “I mean, all that’s usually by my bed is my phone and maybe a glass of water and my meds. A lamp and a book, sometimes.”

“Okay! So now you know what to look for.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Something… like…” She tilts her head at a walnut end table that pretty well fits the description Foggy gave.

“That’s really cute!” Karen coos. “Want me to grab it?”

“Would you?”

“Of course,” Karen says. “Advantage of bein’ tall.” She grabs the box and stacks it in the cart.

“Thank you,” Kara chirps.

“Where to next?” Matt asks.

“Let’s go swing by and put the gray towels back,” Kara suggests. “I think I like the blue ones for now. If I want more later, I can get more later.”

 

* * *

 

“So Bucky’s taking you to the shelter to look for a dog next week, right?” Foggy asks once they’re in the checkout line.

“Yeah, he is,” Kara says, smiling. “I’m really excited. I keep falling in love with the pictures, but I wanna make sure before I pick one out.”

“That’s really smart,” Karen agrees.

“Are you thinking of a particular kind?” Matt asks. “Big, small, medium, furry, less furry? I don’t know much about dogs.”

“Not too big, not too little,” Kara says. “I’m pretty open, although I know I’d be awful at having a dog that was too hyper. Probably going to get one that’s already been trained.”

“Makes sense,” says Matt. “Good goal, probably.”

“Yeah,” Kara agrees. “I figure, I’ve got enough problems listening to myself that I wouldn’t be great at making a dog listen to me if they weren’t already inclined.”

“Aw,” Karen hums, frowning. “Well, you’re working on it.”

“I am,” Kara nods, smiling shyly.

Foggy smiles. “You’ll be okay!”

“I’m starting to believe that,” Kara says.

Behind them, a tall, floppy-haired boy with a lean face (he looks about nineteen or twenty) shuffles away in about the most awkward way possible, holding his basket in front of him at waist level. “Uh,” Kara mumbles, “what… the hell.”

Karen watches critically. “My money’s on awkward boner,” she declares. “Ew.”

“What just happened?” Matt asks. “Did the guy behind us leave?”

“Yeah, and it was really weird,” says Foggy. “He shuffled away holding his basket in front of his crotch.”

“Oh,” says Matt. “That’s classy.”

“I mean, at least he had the decency to split,” Karen says.

Kara pushes her hair back. “Still doesn’t count for much, but I guess that’s something.”

Foggy sighs. “I’m sorry on behalf of my gender and our awkward boners.”

“It’s the decent guys like you that keep me from goin’ on a total misandry rampage,” Karen says.

“Thank you?” replies Matt.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty,” Karen giggles. “So thank _you._ ”

“So after we finish here, we’re just heading back, yeah?” Foggy asks.

“Pizza!” Kara exclaims. “But yeah.”

“Didn’t one of you mention something about a fire?” Matt asks.

 

* * *

 

_> >She was right in front of me in line. Had three others with her. Blonde girl, guy with red glasses on and a chubby one. _

_> >Probably that guy who ambushed me a couple months back. Can you get names?_

_> >No, they caught me looking and I left._

_> >Werner, I’m counting on you. The final test is coming up soon. Don’t fail me._

_> >I did hear her say she’s getting a dog soon. _

_> >Excellent. That’s more like it. From now on, stay in that Target as much as possible. Sooner or later she has to show up without her PC guard dogs. You’ll need to be ready for that._

 

* * *

 

As Kara unlocks the door, Karen shouts out, “Pizza’s here and so is beer!”

“Good,” calls Jessica. “I brought you more booze too.”

“Oh!” Kara exclaims, hurrying in and dropping her bags on the floor. ‘Hi! When did you…?”

“We showed up when those two were working on the bed,” Trish explains, smiling. “I wanted - _we_ wanted - to bring you a housewarming present.” She’s got an expression that implies _especially considering the situation_ , and Kara is grateful that it stays unspoken.

“Good thing we brought extra food, then,” Kara says. “And good thing the couch and chair are already in place.”

“We’re all friendly, we can squeeze,” Karen adds cheerfully.

Luke nods. “We’re used to making ourselves comfortable wherever.”

“So the pizza’s up for grabs then?” Jessica asks, grabbing a beer without bothering to ask.

“It is,” Kara agrees. “We got paper plates so we don’t have to worry about dishes, here.” And she pulls them out of one of the bags.

“Oh, you have returned!” calls Drax, coming over. “Akela and I have put together your bed.”

“Wasn’t too hard,” says Akela with a shrug.

“Thank you guys,” Kara says. “Pizza?”

Drax grins. “I would be happy to partake of pizza!”

Foggy hands him a plate. “We got an extra pizza just for you, pal.”

“You didn’t mind that we let them in, right?” Akela asks Kara, nodding at Jessica’s group. “That one kicked the door a couple of times because her hands were full of liquor.”

“Oh, I mean, it’s fine!” Kara exclaims, somewhat startled to be asked that. “I trust them, I trust your judgment. But thank you. I appreciate you asking.”

Akela nods and goes to grab her own plate.

After inhaling two slices, Drax asks, “Kara, you mentioned earlier the desire to perhaps burn your old clothing. Is that something you would still like to do?”

Jessica’s eyes light up. “Sounds fun.”

“I think it is, yeah,” Kara says. “Is that cool with everyone else?”

Trish rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes,” she says, nodding at her girlfriend. “Well, it’s not unfortunate that it will be done, because I understand that it needs doing. But I’m less enthused about some instances of latent pyromania.”

“You already knew about that,” says Jessica with a shrug.

“I did,” Trish replies, “but I always wish we could avoid it around polite company.”

Karen snorts.

“I’ll probably just stay here,” says Matt. “I feel like the whole experience would be a bit lost on me.”

“Aw, Matt,” Karen says, because she’s always bad at letting him opt out of things.

He shrugs. “It’s fine, really.”

“I doubt there are going to be any more deliveries, but in case anyone comes by with a surprise or something?” Kara says. “If you’d screen or… something?”

“Of course,” he agrees.

“I could stay with him,” Akela offers. “Not that you are incapable, Matt, but I would prefer not to go out in the cold.”

“We bought cocoa!” chimes in Foggy. “I can stay and make it for when the rest of you get back!”

“Aren’t you cute,” Trish coos.

“Isn’t he?” Karen agrees, grinning at him.

 

* * *

 

“This will make quite a bonfire!” says Drax as he grabs one box of clothing from the back of his car.

“Is this the kind of bonfire we need logs or something for?” Kara asks, smiling nervously. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Kindling, probably,” says Luke. “You got newspaper or something, Drax?”

“Yes!” Drax retrieves several crumpled newspapers from the car. “I have lit many fires. I would be happy to start it, unless anyone would care to.”

“I guess this is my cue to play Smokey Bear,” Trish says, sighing. “Not that you shouldn't be safe with fires anywhere, but considering the fairly large wooded area behind us, extra caution would probably be wise."

Jessica snorts. “You’re adorable.”

“I would ask if that was the booze talking, but if it was I’d hear it more often,” Trish replies, grinning.

Luke puts the other box on the ground next to Drax’s box. “We doing this on the ground, or what?”

“What are our options?” Karen asks.

“The pavement is the best option,” says Drax. “Perhaps the dumpster is empty, but I would doubt it.”

“Do we just… vacuum up the ashes?” Kara asks, giggling anxiously.

“We are supposed to leave the ashes in place for a few days, in case they are still hot, then put them in a metal container and get them wet. I have learned this,” says Drax, looking very serious.

“That’s safety,” Trish says with a weak smile. “That’s something.”

“Maybe we better do it behind the building, then?” Luke asks. “Sounds like a bit of an eyesore.”

“Not to mention it wouldn’t be great to have people parking on hot ashes,” Karen agrees, smiling.

“Hey, whatever,” says Jessica, shrugging. “I think that might be funny.”

“Probably better to avoid the litigation,” Karen says. “Someone has to be the voice of legality since the boys aren’t here.”

Drax laughs. “Presumably that is important.”

“It’ll save you time, probably,” Karen agrees.

Drax gets to work coaxing a fire from the crumpled newspapers, which the others mostly stand around watching him. “Want me to get a box?” Karen asks Kara.

“It’s getting to be about that time, yeah,” Kara murmurs, not taking her eyes off the fire.

After a couple of minutes, Drax stands up and shouts in excitement. “Here,” he says, smiling at Kara. “You can begin to add your clothes now.”

Kara opens the box and pulls out a pink nylon… bustier… thing. “Good fucking riddance,” she hisses, tossing it on the fire.

Jessica, who’s been quiet up to this point, snorts. “How did you not burn that thing the instant he gave it to you?” she asks.

“I didn’t even realize that was an option,” Kara says, frowning darkly.

“Well, it’s gone now!” Karen exclaims, wanting to make sure this stays positive. She pulls a blouse out of the box and asks, “May I?”

“Please,” Kara says, wrinkling her nose.

“This guy must have been a real creep,” Trish says.

“Understatement of the decade,” Karen mutters. “He - well, it’s not mine to tell.”

Kara smiles gratefully and, after tossing a skirt on the fire, says, “Well, everyone else already knows. He was an abusive Nazi asshole who dislocated my shoulder because I asked him if I could go to a roller derby meet. Hence the needing to move apartments and vaguely fantasizing about doing him bodily harm.”

“Sweet Christmas,” says Luke. “You doing okay now?”

“A few months out and with a lot of really good people in my corner, yeah, I am,” Kara says. “Not perfect. Honestly not even great some days. But it’s a step.” She pulls a t-shirt out and rips it in half before she adds it to the fire.

“We couldn’t just let you go through that alone,” Karen insists softly. “That wouldn’t have been right.”

“Still means a lot,” Kara says, not for the first time.

Drax grabs a shirt from the pile. “Am I part of this ceremonial burning as well?”

“You can be,” Kara says, smiling. “Everyone, please help yourselves.”

Jessica picks up a lacy pink bra and, holding it between thumb and forefinger, tosses it onto the fire. “This guy had shit taste,” she comments. “Reminds me of _my_ shitty stalker ex.”

“Sympathies,” Kara frowns. “He really did, though. Stay away from IKEA, he and a whole slew of his racist buddies work over there.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Trish says, looking vaguely mortified.

“Good to know,” agrees Luke. “Never had to worry about Nazi gangs before. Other kinds, sure.”

“Some of them are police officers too,” Drax adds. “Not all of the officers are Nazis, but it is not a bad idea to be cautious.”

“Well, that’s just beautiful,” Trish mutters.

“I bet you could ask, like, Steve and his if you want more insight?” Karen suggests. “There really aren’t _that_ many of them, but it’s still too many and they still have too much power. The mall itself is completely Nazi-free, though. Our boss is awesome.”

“She sounds like it, from everything I’ve heard,” Trish says. “Would she be interested in doing an interview? I mean, my podcast isn’t that big of a deal or anything, but she sounds really incredible.”

“I bet she’d do it,” Karen nods. “She’s pretty cool like that and she she likes ambitious kids. Not that we’re kids, but. Ambitious young people, even though that also sounds dumb.”

Kara giggles, throwing a pair of ridiculous high heels on the fire. “We could ask her, if you want?”

“Yeah, I do,” Trish says. “That would be really cool, thank you!”

“So did he buy most of these for you?” Jessica asks. “Abusive dickheads like doing that, in my experience.”

“The lingerie, he acquired,” Kara says, shrugging, “and note, I say acquired, since based on the couple of times I saw him shoplift to impress me I assume he did that regularly, and some of the clothes, but sometimes he’d give me orders to go out and pick up a certain thing he liked.” She rolls her eyes, tosses a sweater into the flames.

“Gross.” Jessica rolls her eyes.

They take turns tossing the rest of the clothes into the fire, then watch it for a while in content silence. Jessica finally breaks it to comment, “We should’ve brought beer. That would make this even better.”

“There’s still some back at the apartment,” Kara offers.

“I kind of doubt Foggy and Matt and Akela are polishing it all off in our absence,” Karen adds with a smirk.

“I would be glad of some alcohol!” Drax says cheerfully.

“We could wander back that way,” Kara smiles. “If it’s safe to leave this here.” She nods to the ashes and general debris.

“Yes, I will be here tomorrow morning to ensure nothing has gone wrong,” assures Drax.

“In that case, what say we adjourn to my place,” Kara suggests. “Finish off the snacks I got and maybe finish off the beer, too.”

“Sounds good,” says Luke.

 

* * *

 

“Milk’s ready for cocoa!” Foggy calls as they open the door.

“Can I have mine with booze?” Jessica asks.

“Er...I guess so…” Foggy replies dubiously.

“It’s cute when you fuss,” Karen says, coming over to ruffle Foggy’s hair.

He grins. “Not fussing, just not sure how beer would affect the cocoa taste.”

“You said you brought other booze, right?” Kara asks Jessica.

“Yeah, I put it in the kitchen. Whiskey.”

“See, that’s better in cocoa than beer,” Karen exclaims. “How’ve you been while we were out?”

“Not too bad,” Matt says, “It was quiet. We just hung out while Foggy did his stuff.”

“Well, the bonfire was a success,” Karen declares. “So overall, I’d call this a successful day.”

“Definitely,” Kara agrees. “Thank you guys.”

“Of course!” Foggy says, offering her a plastic cup full of cocoa. “Did you want us to start clearing out soon?”

“There’s no rush,” Kara shrugs. “We still have those bags of cookies we haven’t even touched yet.” She glances into the living room almost apprehensively. “We could make sure the TV is working?”

“Yes!” says Drax cheerfully. “Perhaps we will find some badly-made film which is amusing to watch due to its incompetence.”

Karen giggles. “Always a good time,” she says.

Once everyone has their beverages of choice and the dessert is set out, everyone goes to get comfortable around the television and somewhat by accident Trish ends up with the remote control. Her only real goal is to find something that they’ll all agree on, which is more difficult than it seems, but as they’re skimming through the movie channels she settles on something labeled _Winter’s Tale_.

“Must be the Shakespeare play,” she muses. “Hold on, I just wanna see how it’s being done.”

“Dork,” Jessica says, and it almost sounds affectionate.

“I never read the play,” Karen says, “why is everyone chasin’ this guy?”

“Uh,” says Foggy, tilting his head, “it’s not about a guy at all, it’s about a girl…”

“Was there a horse in the play?” Kara asks hesitantly.

“Not that I… remember?” Trish says. “Especially not a _goddamn_ horse.”

Luke laughs. “What the hell is this even?”

“Apparently an adaptation of a different book,” says Akela, who has googled it on her phone. “Set in New York in the early twentieth century, something about starcrossed lovers and supernatural gangsters?”

“Supernatural _what_?” Karen exclaims, laughing.

“Gangsters. This plot summary is confusing.”

“Does anyone else mind if we keep on with this long enough to figure out what the hell is going on?” Kara asks. “I’m weirdly fascinated.”

“Not at all,” Foggy says. “I wanna know too.”

They’re all mostly quiet, riveted and only occasionally making snarky comments, until the hero and heroine are involved in a horseback chase that culminates in the horse leaping off a cliff and flying away. “ _What the fuck_ ,” Jessica yells, accidentally spilling some of her spiked cocoa on herself.

“Will Smith is playing Lucifer, but it’s the flying horse that got you?” Trish asks incredulously.

“I mean, that was fucking weird, but that’s a flying horse.”

“I can’t believe this is a movie,” Luke says.

“I can’t believe it got financed,” Karen adds.

“I can’t believe all the people who agreed to be in it,” Foggy finishes.

“I think we have to see this through, you guys,” Kara says, and all things considered it’s not a bad thing in the slightest.


	77. maybe one of these days you can let the light in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team America goes shopping for a housewarming present for Kara, and then they take her to the animal shelter.

“So did we have any idea what we wanted to actually get her?” Sharon asks as they all step out of the car.

Bucky shrugs. “Something nice?”

“Helpful,” says Natasha wryly.

“Well, she just moved, so it should be practical,” Steve suggests. “But nothing that’s too boring.”

“So basically we’re just gonna wander the whole store until we find something,” Sam says with a grin. “Like usual.”

“It’s Target,” Sharon says, “inspiration is bound to strike!”

Natasha laughs. “Our motto.”

“Well, it doesn’t do to force things,” Steve chimes in, moving to grab a shopping cart.

“I thought we were just getting something for Kara?” Sharon says.

“It’s Target,” Steve echoes. “You never know.”

Sam rolls his eyes affectionately.

Steve starts gently leading them in the direction of the home section, cheerful as he considers a display of Target artwork. “They certainly do try to have something that will appeal to a lot of people,” he declares.

“That’s diplomatic,” says Natasha with a snort.

“It would be very good for decorating a model home,” Sharon says.

“Yeah!” Steve says brightly.

“What’s this even for?” Sam asks, gesturing to a ceramic rhino figurine.

Natasha shrugs. “Beats me. Yuppie aesthetic?”

“An attempt at being a little exotic?” Sharon suggests.

“You really like rhino ghosts?” chimes in Bucky.

Sam grins. “They should get you guys to write the product descriptions.”

“If someone marketed something as a rhino ghost, I’d be inclined to buy it,” Sharon agrees.

“What about a ghost pomegranate?” Natasha asks, picking up a similarly designed figurine.

“Is this a Guillermo del Toro film?” Sharon asks without missing a beat.

Sam snorts loud enough that he has to cover his mouth with his hand.

“I feel like we’re not getting anywhere,” Steve sighs.

“Could go over to furniture?” Bucky suggests.

“That sounds smart,” Steve nods, steering the cart in that direction.

They head down the aisle full of dressers first, which no one really looks at, before making their way into the lamps. “Everyone needs a lamp,” Sam remarks.

“And too many lamps is better than not enough,” Steve agrees, solemnly like it’s one of those times he doesn’t realize he’s said something a little bit ridiculous.

“I love lamp,” deadpans Natasha.

Steve tilts his head. “I’m missing something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sharon says, patting his arm good-naturedly. “This one that looks like an easel is sort of cool.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “I’d buy it myself, but, y’know. Callie.”

“Ooh, good point,” Sharon says, sighing. “Not knowing who Kara’s going to end up with means we probably shouldn’t opt for something that precarious.”

“What about this one?” Natasha asks, nodding at a brass-colored lamp with a round glass shade. “It’s kinda cool.”

“That’s sort of industrial,” Sharon muses. “But pretty at the same time.”

Sam nods. “It’s cool. Good choice, Tasha.”

The rest of their trip is mostly uneventful, and it’s not till they’re in the checkout line that Sharon turns around, contemplating chapsticks, and sees… an unfamiliar blond kid who’s looking at them like he’s more confused than she feels looking at him look at them. “Uh,” she says, nudging Sam.

“Hm?” Sam glances over and frowns. “Is he looking at _us_?”

“I think so?” Sharon says.

“What?” Bucky asks. “Who are you talking about?”

Steve clears his throat. “Have we met?” he asks the kid.

Said kid blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting them to notice him. “Uh, no,” he says quickly, turning and walking away.

Steve makes a face. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I think we all are,” says Natasha, tilting her head. “James, you sure you don’t recognize him?”

“Yeah, why?”

“From, you know.” Natasha scowls. “Before.”

“Oh. No, he looks too young. You think maybe he joined after I left?”

“I think maybe we’d better be very aware of who’s around us from now on,” says Natasha darkly.

 

* * *

 

“Knock knock,” calls Natasha, rapping on Kara’s door gently.

Kara opens the door with a big smile on her face. “Come in!” she exclaims. “I made tiny sandwiches. A few different kinds, just in case.”

“What kinds?” Bucky asks. “I mean, I’m sure they’re good if you made them.”

“Turkey and cheese, tuna, peanut butter and jelly,” Kara explains. “Take your pick. I know they're not fancy, but they’ll get us through.”

“Hey, it’s not butter and sprinkles,” says Sam with a grin, grabbing all three types.

“Speak for yourself, Wilson,” replies Natasha, mock-offended. “Those are delicious.”

“That’s a thing?” Kara asks, sounding bewildered.

Bucky grins. “It’s a delicacy!”

“Why, again?” Sharon asks.

“It just is,” he insists.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with all of you,” says Sam cheerfully.

“You’re all cute,” Kara giggles, taking a PB&J for herself.

“We brought you something,” Steve says, flipping the box around in front of him showily.

“You didn’t have to!” Kara exclaims, blushing. “Thank you so much.”

“We wanted to,” says Bucky. “We’re your friends.”

“Well, that’s… I mean, it’s nice, it’s just…” Kara shakes her head. “Thank you. Let’s stick with thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sharon says warmly.

“Once we polish off these sandwiches, you wanna head out?” Bucky asks.

Kara nods. “That way we’ll be sure to have plenty of time,” she says. “I figure it’s not going to be easy.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I mean, sometimes you just know, but it’s good to look at a bunch of them just to be sure.”

“Can I, uh.” Kara falters for a second. “Can I rely on you guys to reassure me as needed? Or counsel me against, possibly? I don’t… well.” Trust her own judgment, she means.

“Of course,” Steve says, smiling. “We’ll back you up.”

Natasha nods. “We’ll all make sure you make the right choice for you.”

 

* * *

 

“So, this is the dog area,” Bucky says, after they’ve all entered a room with rows of enclosures on either side. Most of the dogs have come forward to poke their noses through the doors curiously, and a few start barking. “They’ll quiet down in a minute,” he adds, “they just get excited when new people come in.”

Kara makes a funny squeaking noise. “I’m sorry,” she says immediately. “They’re just all so…”

“I know,” Bucky says, giving her a smile. “It takes some getting used to. I come here about once a week to volunteer and stuff and I still wanna take most of them home with me.”

“At least when he started looking for you, he stopped texting us pictures of the new dogs,” teases Natasha.

“I think if all of our leases would allow it, we’d all have wound up with dogs by now,” Sharon adds.

Sam shrugs. “I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to it, really. Had dogs as a kid and stuff.”

“I’m just a schmuck about cute things with big eyes,” Kara says, playfully sighing. “I’ve never actually had pets, but I suddenly have no idea why because I want all of them.”

“I know the feeling,” says Bucky with a laugh. “I hadn’t actually had any dogs before I got mine.”

“Audrey, uh, she always talks about the therapeutic qualities of dog-ownership,” Kara muses. “I don’t know why that’s not more widely advertised.”

“I can definitely see that,” Steve says. “I don’t even technically own any, and I feel like I get therapeutic benefits from them.”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky says to him, grinning. “Anyway, Kara, you ready to meet some dogs?”

Steve gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze.

“Yeah,” Kara says, giggling nervously.

“Okay! So this is Sheldon,” Bucky says, stopping in front of the enclosure where a Shar-pei is looking up at them with interest. “He’s about a year old, and I think he might be a bit of a handful for you at this point, but you never know. He’s really smart but he doesn’t always do that well with new situations.”

Kara gets a little bit closer, still tentative. “He’s so cute,” she coos, offering her hand for him to sniff. He does, after a moment, then backs off to watch her some more.

“Right? He’s got a tendency to want to do his own thing on walks though,” Bucky adds.

“Oh,” Kara murmurs. “So you kind of just… how does that work?”

“You kinda have to nudge him back on track. Sometimes it’s okay, like if you’re in the park or something, but if you’re on the sidewalk it’s more of a challenge.”

“Oh,” Kara says again. “That might not be the best idea.”

“But there are others!” Steve says enthusiastically, looking expectantly at Bucky to continue the tour.

“Yeah. This is Oakley,” says Bucky, leading them on to a kennel a few doors down with some sort of shepherd puppy inside who barks a few times as they come closer. “She’s not even a year old, I don’t think, maybe nine months? But really sweet and friendly.”

Kara squeaks again. “She’s so precious, holy crap,” she says.

“Those ears,” Sharon observes.

Natasha steps forward to let the dog sniff her hand, and chuckles when Oakley licks them. “Pretty dog.”

“Yeah, she’s one of those I would totally take home if not for, y’know, the other three,” Bucky replies. “She just needs a lot of attention since she’s still technically a puppy.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Kara agrees. “She’s such a sweetheart! I just…”

“You don’t have to pick right now, we’re not even halfway done,” says Bucky with a grin.

“Okay,” Kara says. “Onto the next.”

“Jagger!” Bucky gestures to a black labrador who is one of the quiet ones, his tail waving lazily. “He’s about six or seven, he likes running and playing fetch. His last owner moved across the country and said he’s probably happiest with some kind of athlete, but I thought maybe if you wanted to take up jogging…”

Kara makes a face. “It wouldn’t be a horrible idea, but it might be too much of a commitment,” she says, but she gets closer to let him say hello anyway.

“Hey, Steve, _you_ should get this one,” says Sam with a playful nudge.

“I doubt that I have the time for a dog of my own right now,” Steve says, because he is bad at recognizing teasing sometimes.

“Fair enough,” Sam replies fondly.

“And this is Paul,” says Bucky. The black-and-white boxer mix noses at the door curiously. “He’s one of those that thinks he’s a lapdog even though he’s huge. Really sweet guy, loves other dogs.”

“Lapdog, oh my god,” Kara echoes. “Hey, buddy.”

“Getting warmer,” Sharon singsongs.

“And this is Autumn,” Bucky continues, leading the group to a shepherd mix who wuffs and hops up so her front paws are against the door for a moment before returning to the floor. Her tail is curled and wagging enthusiastically and she keeps trying to put her nose through the holes in the door.

“Holy shit,” Kara yelps, stepping closer with an expression like she might be about to burst into the happiest tears in her life. “Hi, you.”

Natasha smiles. “She’s adorable.”

“Which one?” Sharon asks, grinning.

“Both, honestly.”

“She’s almost three and she’s apparently a little needy, or at least that’s what her owners said.” Bucky shrugs. “They moved for work or something. She’s one of my favorites, anyway.”

“She’s the cutest dog I’ve ever seen,” Kara croons.

“You wanna go play with her outside?” Bucky asks.

“Could I?” Kara asks.

He grins. “‘Course. Lemme grab you a leash and some toys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Autumn](https://www.shepped.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/german-shepherd-mix.jpg?baac19).


	78. every dime gone to ways you can find that might bait me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some members of Hydra start shit, and Luke and Jess are there to finish it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for Nazi behavior and subsequent violence.

“Hey there,” says Rumlow with a smirk. “Don’t suppose you could get us a table, sexy?”

Trish’s first instinct is to fold her arms over her chest, even though the Applebees polo shirt definitely isn’t the problem.  Her second is to roll her eyes.  Her third, which is the one she allows herself to act on, is to raise her eyebrow and say, “Excuse me?”

“I asked for a table,” he repeats with a shrug, gesturing to the three men behind him who are all wearing similar leather jackets with the telltale Hydra logo. “We’re hungry. Though I bet the food won’t look half as good as you do.”

“And if this was an old-fashioned vegetable-and-young-girl beauty pageant, that would be relevant,” she says brightly, with a smile that plays to the back row.

Rumlow blinks. “Not sure I get your reference there, but that’s okay. I like watching you talk. Although watching you do other things would be even better…” One of his friends guffaws.

“Does this usually work for you?” she asks.

“Sometimes,” he says with another casual shrug. “I’m in pretty high demand, wouldn’t you say, Kaminsky?” One of the guys, who has a stupid combover, grins and nods.

Now Trish really does roll her eyes.  “Guess tonight isn’t your lucky night, then,” she mutters.  “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, troglodyte.”

Rumlow and his friends look at each other for a second. “What?” he asks, seeming taken aback.

“I can’t imagine any of you need a sexual harassment suit on your record,” Trish says thoughtfully.  “Leaving is your only option for avoiding one.”

“Jesus, bitch, calm your tits,” says Kaminsky. “We’ll take our business elsewhere.” And they leave, making obscene hand gestures as they go.

Trish just turns back to the table assignments chart, not even wanting to give them the pleasure of seeing her react.  Over in the waiting area, Jemma makes a funny little squeaking noise.

“What are you looking at?” one of the other Hydra members growls at her.

“Nothing!” Jemma exclaims, turning red but refusing to look away.

“Fuck off,” hisses Skye, putting her arm around Jemma protectively.

“You first, bitch,” he tosses over his shoulder as he trails after Rumlow and the others.

Fitz winces. “Well, that was uncalled for.”

“I had almost started to think we were free of that rubbish,” Jemma murmurs.

“I don’t think we ever will be, technically,” says Trip with a sigh. “Unless the police or somebody gets off their asses and does something about them.”

“It’s so unsettling,” says Fitz, “and I’m not, er, I mean, I’m...they haven’t got as much against me, I suppose,” he says awkwardly.

“Well,” Jemma says pointedly, glancing at the four of them.

He shrugs. “I’m not who they’d go after, I mean. Probably.”

“Well,” Jemma says again, shrugging as well.  “Still doesn’t make it pleasant.” Skye squeezes her hand comfortingly.

Trish comes over, half-smiling half-wincing.  “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” she says.

Skye shrugs. “Kind of comes with the turf around here. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Trish says.  “Sadly not the creepiest guy I’ve run across.”

“Man, that sucks,” says Trip. “You handled it well, though.”

“Practice,” Trish shrugs.  “Also sadly.”

Fitz makes a face. “It seems like it’s difficult being a girl sometimes.”

“You have no idea,” says Skye.

“Well, your table is ready,” Trish says, gesturing toward the restaurant floor.  “May the rest of the night be better for you.”

 

* * *

 

Jessica leans on her car, arms crossed. “Is it seven yet?”

“No, and it’s only been ten minutes since the last time you asked,” replies Luke with a grin. “Impatient much?”

“Bored. Wanna get Trish and go get food.” Jessica pulls out her phone and sighs. “Goddammit.”

Luke’s about to respond, but the restaurant doors open suddenly and a pack of men exit the restaurant, talking loudly amongst themselves. “...can’t believe that bitch!”

“We should find out who she is and pay her a visit later.”

Jessica straightens up, watching the group closely. “Think those are the Nazi assholes we got warned about?”

“Maybe.” Luke’s watching them too. “Don’t get any ideas, Jones.”

“Y’know, I bet we could figure out who she is. I saw her nametag. Tricia or something...can’t be more than one of those…”

“Hey, fuckheads!” Jessica yells before she’s really had time to think about it. “How about you leave her out of your shitty gang jollies?”

The group turns to her, all looking surprised. “Well, well, what have we here?” asks one with a goatee. “A vigilante, out to protect and meddle in everybody’s business?”

“Damn right,” says Jessica. “Say one more word and I’m gonna feed you that jacket through your own ass.”

That makes him laugh. “Oh yeah? Pretty sure I could knock you over with a finger, girlie.”

“Let’s try it,” she says, brandishing a fist. “Me against you and your pack of shitstains.”

“And what about him?” another Nazi asks, gesturing to Luke (who has been watching this whole encounter with a neutral expression). “He just gonna stand there and watch like a pussy?”

“Trust me,” Luke replies, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Ooh, big talk,” Goatee says. “C’mon boys, let’s teach these two a lesson.”

One of them rushes Jessica, who gives him a nice uppercut for his troubles and sends him flying back. Another reaches for her left wrist, grabbing it and holding on until she kicks him hard in the leg and then backs up. The other two have gone for Luke, who meets them halfway with a hard shove and an elbow respectively.

“Boy, this brings back memories!” yells Jessica as she goes to put one of her opponents in a headlock, then has to resort to flipping him over when he almost gets out of it.

Luke’s too busy to respond, but he would’ve laughed if he could’ve.

When Jessica gets stuck in a bear hug from behind, she kicks at the legs of the guy trying to lift her up until he grunts in pain and loosens his grip as he doubles over, which is when she elbows him in the chest and then the face and then darts away. She even manages to toss a punch at one of the guys who’s targeting Luke, connecting with his upper back.

Luke decks the other one right in the face, making him howl and clutch at it. “Told you,” Luke says as he stumbles away, cursing.

The other three seem to be in retreat mode as well, with only Goatee attempting a dignified exit. “We’ll remember you!” he shouts. “You’ll regret this!”

“Yeah, tell it to your broken ribs!” Jessica yells back, rubbing her fist. “You okay?” she asks Luke.

He winces, rubbing his shoulder. “Had worse. You?”

“Mostly.” She’s got an interesting bruise forming on her cheek from where one of them got in a lucky punch, but all things considered, that’s pretty good.

They go back to the car and wait there until Trish appears, and it’s no surprise that within seconds she’s exclaiming, “What the hell happened?”

“Nazis,” Jessica replies with a shrug. “They’re gone now.”

“Shit,” Trish mutters.  “Four of them?”

“Yeah, actually,” Luke says. “How’d you know?”

Trish rolls her eyes.  “Pack of assholes came in trying to flirt their way into getting a table,” she says.  “They didn't up and scream _white power_ but they... definitely looked like they could have been in that crowd.”

Jessica grimaces. “Yeah, we ran ‘em off anyway. You okay?”

“More aggravated than anything,” Trish shrugs.  “You two?”

“Had worse,” says Luke with a shrug.

Nodding, Jessica asks, “You ready to head out?”

“More to the point, I’m ready to go home, punch things, and then take a bath,” Trish says.

“You want some company for some of that?” Luke asks with a smirk.

Trish practically bats her eyelashes.  “I wouldn’t argue it.”

“Let’s head,” says Jessica with a smirk of her own.

 

* * *

 

_> >Watch out, the vigilantes are multiplying._

_> >You guys run into trouble?_

_> >This pale dark-haired bitch, punches like a guy, and her pimp or something. Applebee’s parking lot. _

_> >Thanks. I’ll keep an eye out. You see my girl?_

_> >No, but the kid’s been on it for like a week. We’ll keep our eyes peeled._

_> >You’d better._

 

* * *

“Holy shit,” says Skye, sitting up in her seat suddenly to look out the window. “Check it out!”

Fitz follows her gaze and his eyes go wide. “What the hell…”

“Is that…?” Jemma murmurs.

“I think it’s that Jessica Jones girl who was at Clint’s party,” says Skye, not looking away from the scene outside. “And Luke? I think that was his name.”

“I’m guessing those are Nazis,” Trip says, watching Jessica flip one of them over her head.

“Maybe they’re the Nazis who… you know!” Jemma exclaims.  “That would be nice.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re wearing the same jackets,” says Fitz with a nod. “Jesus,” he adds when Jessica manages to break out of the arms of one of the men and then beat him back.

“This is so badass!” says Skye.

“Yes,” Jemma agrees, her voice tiny.

“Good for them,” Trip says, smirking.

Skye glances over at Jemma, who’s fascinated by the scene and practically starry-eyed. “Enjoying yourself?” she teases.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Jemma replies, so haughtily it’s clear she’s embarrassed.

“No reason, you just have that look you get sometimes,” says Skye. “When you’re looking at Bobbi or Dr. Weaver.”

Jemma blushes.  “Or you, I look that way at you, too,” she says defensively.

“I know, but it’s a little different,” Skye replies with a shrug. “It’s cute.”

“Thank you," Jemma mumbles.

“Oh look, the Nazis are running off,” says Fitz loudly.

Trip grins. “That was satisfying.”

‘Yes,” Jemma says.  “Yes.  Very.  Ah.  The Nazis.  Were humiliated, I hope.”

Skye reaches to squeeze her hand. “You’re adorable.” Then she grabs her phone. “I’m putting this shit on the secret internet.”

Maybe five minutes after the post goes up, Carina appears at the table.  “I saw what happened!  Not - really, but on the secret internet.  Shit.”

“Articulate,” Nebula teases from where she’s standing behind Carina.

Carina rolls her eyes and reaches for Nebula’s hand.  “I’m just saying,” she groans, “I’m very glad we weren’t within interacting distance.”

“Yeah, us too,” agrees Skye. “They were assholes to us on the way out, but only for a second. Still totally satisfying to watch.”

“I like that Jessica chick,” Nebula says with a hint of a smile. “She seems pretty cool.”

“Yes,” Jemma says again, reverent as anything.  “Skye!  You should invite her on the internet.”

“Ooh, good idea. I’ll go by the art store tomorrow and pitch it to her.”

“Have there been more of those bastards around lately?” Nebula asks.

“I hope not, but I might just not be seeing it because I don’t want to see it,” Carina frets.

Skye shrugs. “I mean, I’ve been keeping an eye out because of Kara, but y’know.”

“I think we’d all better watch out for a while,” says Trip. “Feels like this is building towards something.” Fitz shivers.

“May we all be horribly wrong about that,” Jemma says solemnly.

* * *

 

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _Asha_ , 21-January-2016  
 _I am surprised not even a little bit and only wish I or Officer Mom would have been there to ~electrify said smacking down._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _Monkey_ , 21-January-2016  
 _Yes, they said some horrid things to Trish. Called her the b-word and made all sorts of insinuations. Your help would’ve been welcome._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _EnPointe_ , 21-January-2016  
 _Sounds pretty tame, honestly. I mean, it sucks, but I’ve been called worse. Verbal harassment is so much fun._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _AndThorns_ , 21-January-2016  
_And when the b-word loses its potency there’s always the c-word, and if they don’t feel like sinking quite that low there’s always every synonym for “prostitute.”  It’s like they have a secret class in this bullshit._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _InYourHead_ , 21-January-2016  
 _They like to use those even if you turn down their advances. Which seems illogical to me, since I declined to sleep with someone rather than sleeping with many people (which I don’t think is a problem, but these sorts of men seem to)._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _SunbeamBerry_ , 21-January-2016  
 _They’ll use it on me, and I’m as ace as they come.  They’ll use it on me when I say I’m ace, for crying out loud.  Like I’m just pretending._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _FuckOff_ , 21-January-2016  
 _Yeah, apparently if you don’t like dick it just means you haven’t had one that’s good enough, or whatever. Gross._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _Mockingbird_ , 21-January-2016  
 _Their worst insults for us oversimplify and objectify us (women), their worst insults for each other compare them to us.  Even otherwise decent men resort to this sometimes._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _WendyDarling_ , 21-January-2016  
_My favorite is when they start adding modifiers.  Dumb bitch, stupid whore, that kind of thing.  Especially when it’s because I do something that’s not in their idea of what I oughta be doing._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _PrincessDoctor_ , 21-January-2016  
 _“I guess you’re smart for a girl.”  Or “for a smart girl, you’re really stupid.”_

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _LikeAGirl_ , 21-January-2016  
 _I got “dyke” a lot in college. I suppose men find it threatening when you play better than them_ and _you’ve dated or slept with most of their exes._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _PeerReview_ , 21-January-2016  
 _But of course it’s one of their favorite insults to presume you have no interest in their precious penises!_

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _TheSplendid_ , 21-January-2016  
 _I’ve gotten “frigid bitch” a couple of times, for not being “forthcoming enough.”_

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _Asha_ , 21-January-2016  
 _Sometimes if I’m being “too” forthcoming I’ve gotten some variety of “shut the fuck up and show me your tits.”  From customers even._

**Re: Applebee’s Smackdown** • _Thesmophoria_ , 21-January-2016  
 _They would rather have sex dolls than people.  That’s all there is to it._

**WE ARE NOT THINGS** • _JupiterPhoenix,_ 22-January-2016  
 _This one time some hipster douchebag called me a Mary Sue. I’m not even joking. I just laughed at him._


	79. we'd move from the shadows on the wall and stand in the center of it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a group outing to see _Carol_ ; at dinner afterwards, there's an unfortunate encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone please see _Carol_. It's just as wonderful as we say.
> 
> Also, tw for general Nazi douchebaggery and gay slurs.

“I must say, you look _quite_ dapper this afternoon,” Sharon murmurs, squeezing Natasha’s arm.

“And you look pretty good yourself, doll,” says Natasha, smirking. “‘s a nice color on you.”

“Nothing like pink to play up the damsel factor,” Sharon says.

Natasha snorts. “Hardly. You’d be a terrible damsel and you know it.”

“Yeah, I really would,” Sharon admits. “But that’s why it could be useful to play if I needed to catch someone off-guard.”

“Fair point,” agrees Natasha. “That’s always fun.”

“Isn’t it?” Sharon giggles. “Hey, we’re up next.”

“Two for _Carol,_ please,” drawls Natasha when she reaches the ticket window. The kid rings them up with only a mildly quizzical look (well, it’s not every day he sees two women dressed up vaguely in 1950s-style clothes to see a movie).

“I think we startled him,” Sharon whispers.

Snickering, Natasha squeezes her hand before she reaches for the theater door.

A few places behind them in line, Maria nudges Maya. “You think all the older people ahead of us are here for this too?” she jokes.

Maya fusses with her dress as she answers. “I think if they are they’re either in for a rude awakening or trying much too hard to be culturally relevant.”

“No doubt,” Maria replies. “Well, I’m guaranteed a good time either way.” She smiles at Maya.

“Definitely,” Maya agrees. “Harold, they’re lesbians.”

Maria snorts ungracefully.

“I’d be fascinated to see that happen in real life,” Maya muses. “I can’t hear the tone of voice as is, or I can’t for a certainty.”

“You’re adorable,” says Maria.

“So are you,” Maya says without missing a beat. “I’m pleasantly surprised to see your suit again so soon.”

Maria grins. “Worked out pretty well for both of us, I’d say. You look good, Hansen.”

Before Maya can reply, they’re at the ticket window and Maria’s asking for tickets. As they’re walking inside, though, Maya drops her voice and says, “I can’t wait to get you out of that, though.”

Melinda and Sif, who are both wearing suits and nearly identical smirks, don’t say much while in line, but the kid at the window asks them casually, “Hey, is there some kind of group event going on or somethin’? Why are you all so dressed up?”

Sif laughs. “Nothing official, we just felt like getting into the spirit of things.” She turns to kiss Melinda’s cheek, grinning mischievously.

The kid chuckles, clearly feeling awkward. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“How many of these people making a fuss over _The Danish Girl_ do you think have actually spoken to a trans person,” Victoria mutters under her breath after seeing three old couples request tickets for the same film.

Isabelle snickers. “I mean, they might have and not known? But on purpose, I seriously doubt it.”

“I’m sure in their minds they’re being _so_ progressive,” Victoria snarks.

“Never mind it’s erased the wife’s bisexuality on top of everything else,” Isabelle says with an eyeroll.

“But don’t you know _that’s_ just a myth?” Victoria asks, bitter.

Snorting, Isabelle reaches for Victoria’s hand. “Am I getting this or are you?”

“You can,” Victoria shrugs. “Since you’re wearing the pants today.”

That makes Isabelle laugh again as she pulls out her wallet. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

By this time the ticket boy is...not exactly uncomfortable, but baffled as hell, and it does nothing to assuage his confusion when a few minutes later two girls wearing elegant dresses come up on the arms of a very tall blonde woman wearing a suit. “Three for _Carol_ , please,” she announces.

He hands them their tickets, openly staring as they go into the theater (one of the girls whispers something to the other two and they all laugh).

“I think we startled him,” Bobbi murmurs, chuckling.

“I mean, he’s probably not used to this much gay happening in front of him in one day,” giggles Skye, “let alone within fifteen minutes.”

“Heaven forbid queer women attend a film about queer women,” Jemma snarks cheerfully.

Skye snorts. “Are we getting popcorn?”

“Well, it is a socially acceptable thing to put in your mouth at the movies,” Bobbi says, smirking at the way it makes Jemma blush.

“Aren’t you three looking cute?” Natasha says, coming over.

“I could say the same,” Bobbi drawls, looking Natasha (and Sharon, at the counter getting napkins) over.

“Aw, shucks.” Natasha bats her eyelashes. “You say that to all the girls?”

“Don’t play humble,” Bobbi retorts.

Skye snickers and starts chanting “ _fight fight fight_ ” under her breath.

Which Bobbi notices, and rolls her eyes. “My only point is that false humility is unnecessary, which Natasha knows. I’m not a guy, I’m not going to get all offended and disgusting if she acknowledges that she knows that she’s pretty.”

“Knew I liked you,” says Natasha with a grin. “You two are in good hands,” she adds to Jemma and Skye.

Jemma opens and closes her mouth a few times before she says, “Yes, I - I think so.”

“Aw, tiny gaymos, that’s adorable,” says Maria, wandering over with Maya on her arm. Maya, meanwhile, gives Jemma the tiniest salute of solidarity.

“And larger ones, too,” Bobbi smirks. “I bet they haven’t had this many turn up at the same time for this movie. Or at least turn up so _obviously_.”

“I mean, it’s Cate Blanchett,” Natasha says. “That’s hard to resist.”

“She is quite something,” Jemma agrees reverently.

Victoria and Isabelle seem to be heading straight into the theater, which means, of course, that Bobbi has to call out to them, “Looking good, you two.”

“You deal with it,” Victoria mutters to Isabelle, before turning around with a smile.

Isabelle rolls her eyes at Victoria good-naturedly before waving at Bobbi. “Hey, Bob, we’re here.”

“And it wouldn’t be queer lady movie club without you,” Bobbi nods.

“God, wouldn’t it be awesome if this actually happened enough for us to have a regular club?” Maya asks, though she’s asking it of no one in particular. “Queer lady movies, that is.”

“What about queer lady movies?” Sif calls, leading Melinda to join the group.

“There should be more,” Maya says plainly.

Melinda nods. “There should, yes. This is a start.”

 

* * *

 

“Nobody died!” yelps Skye, practically hopping up and down. “And they were happy in the end! Did we get punked?”

“I think that actually happened,” Jemma murmurs, awed. “It’s an award-show movie about lesbians and nobody died.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing to be happy about,” Victoria says dryly. Seeing the look on Jemma’s face, she takes pity and clarifies, “I’m happy too. It’s just sad that we have to be surprised by being happy about it.”

The rest of the audience - largely older couples - are filing out around them, looking vaguely perplexed. “Well that was...nice,” an older woman says hesitantly to her husband, who nods.

“The paradigm is true,” Maya stage-whispers. “Sorry it wasn’t telegraphed enough to suit your sad, straight sensibilities.”

Maria snorts. “God forbid the audience not be spoonfed everything about a relationship.”

“As far as guys are concerned, a lot of the time you really do have to spoonfeed it,” Bobbi sighs. “In movies and real life both.”

Sif snickers and Melinda glances at her and smiles fondly. “I liked how all the men were ridiculous,” she says.

“Also, _Harge_ is the worst name I’ve ever heard,” Sharon adds.

“Oh god, it really was,” agrees Isabelle, making a face. “That just sounds like a noise you make when you’re coughing.”

“Which was appropriate, all things considered,” Maya says, nodding sagely.

Skye pokes Jemma’s arm and whispers (not all that quietly) “I’m glad we didn’t get to see Cate Blanchett’s tits. That’s not a sight meant for mortals.”

Jemma, of course, snorts. “Certainly not,” she agrees.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Bobbi begins, smirking, “I think yours are both just as cute as Rooney Mara’s. Probably more than.” She knows that will make Jemma blush, but she’s curious about Skye’s reaction.

Skye preens and looks smug. “Thanks. Glad you think so.”

“I mean, I might just be biased,” Bobbi teases.

“Well, either way,” says Skye, bumping her shoulder against Bobbi affectionately.

“You guys are disgusting,” Sharon singsongs, smirking.

“Takes one to know one,” Bobbi snarks.

Natasha wraps her arms around Sharon’s waist from behind and chuckles. “She’s got you there, _зайка.”_

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Sharon says. “Were we going to go for dinner or something?”

“How does that sound to the rest of you?” Natasha asks the others.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Maya says.

“Was there any real plan?” Bobbi asks.

“Not that I heard,” says Sif with a shrug. “Dinner sounds good though.”

Isabelle glances at Victoria, who nods, and then she says, “Sure. All at the same place?”

“Cool. Applebee’s okay with everyone?”

 

* * *

 

The conversation at the combined table has turned to the Oscars, and Isabelle takes the opportunity to lean over to Victoria and murmur, “So did you get that day off?”

Victoria glances down the table to make sure they won’t be bothered (it’s not likely, Skye is busy yelling about how _The Revenant_ is complete bullshit and if we must have a movie about male bravado starring Tom Hardy there was already one of those goddammit) before she says, “I did. Took me long enough to wrangle schedules to work it out, but Tuesdays are never crazy.”

“Good.” Isabelle smiles. “I got a suit picked out. I think you’ll like it.”

“I should just brace myself and get a dress,” Victoria sighs. “I’m sure Pepper could be trusted to help me pick one out in private.”

“You don’t have to,” replies Isabelle. “You’ll look lovely either way.”

“I want to, though,” Victoria says. “I mean - it’s stupid, but I want to make it special.”

Isabelle hums and kisses her cheek. “Well, thanks. It’ll be special either way, but that’s sweet of you.”

Down the table, Sharon gently kicks Natasha’s leg and nods in Victoria and Isabelle’s direction. “Uh…”

Natasha glances over, watches them for a minute (fully eavesdropping), then says, “Huh.”

“You think that means…?”

“I mean, I’m not sure what else they could be talking about,” replies Natasha with a shrug. “Plus Bobbi said something on the secret internet awhile back, got me curious.”

“You think she knows about it?” Sharon asks.

“She probably has an inkling. I’m sure Isabelle would at least tell her pretty soon after they did it, if not before.” Natasha grins. “It’s sweet, really. I can’t imagine they’re going all-out, probably just something small. Maybe even courthouse.”

They’re interrupted by Skye’s asking a question - it’s something like “don’t you think building a guitar that has a working flamethrower is more impressive than shooting only in natural light?” - and Natasha answers as easily as if she’s been listening to the entire rest of Skye’s screed. Then the conversation moves on to _Star Wars_ and what bullshit it is that it’s only been nominated for technical awards.

Part of the table has devolved into a friendly debate about the merits of romantic Finn and Rey as opposed to Finn and Poe or Finn, Rey, _and_ Poe, when a tall lean man with a stupid mustache and spiky hair wanders up and says, “Why, it’s a regular dykes night out.”

“It’s the late afternoon, and we didn’t ask for your opinion,” Jemma says icily.

“Ooh, sassy,” he says with a grin, adjusting his position so everyone can see the Hydra tattoo on his upper arm. “That’s how I like ‘em.”

“Fuck off,” says Skye, grabbing Jemma’s hand.

“You should leave,” adds Melinda, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh really? I can be wherever I want, bitch,” he retorts. Sif jumps up as if to go after him, but Melinda puts her hand on her arm to stop her.

“Can and should are different things,” Maya says, plain like she’s just stating facts.

“Yeah? Well, as far as I’m concerned, I _should_ be here,” he says with a lazy grin. “You lesbos should be reminded of what you’re missing out on.”

“Every time I speak to a Neanderthal, I _am_ reminded, thank you,” Victoria says sweetly. “I’m never happier to like women than when confronted with men like you.”

“Yeah, and you’re really not much to look at either,” chimes in Maria. “We’re not missing out on much.”

The Nazi scoffs. “Maybe I should get some of my boys here, teach you all a lesson, huh?”

“And how, exactly, would you plan on doing that?” Sharon asks coldly, raising an eyebrow. She’s kind of hoping he’ll say something horrible enough that the management will overhear and take action.

He shrugs. “Dunno. Depends on how receptive you are.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Bobbi growls, pushing her chair back with an ugly scrape.

“Ooh, you getting ideas there, Barbie?”

“Don’t fucking call me Barbie,” she hisses. “Outside. Now.”

He leers and crooks his finger, turning to head out to the parking lot.

“Shit,” Jemma squeaks.

“Jesus,” sighs Isabelle. “I guess I better text Mack.”

“Think she needs any backup?” Sharon asks, sounding almost eager.

“Let’s wait and see,” says Natasha, smiling fondly at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t want to upstage her.”

 

* * *

 

Isabelle puts her head in her hands as Bobbi reenters the restaurant fifteen minutes later, her hair in disarray, a button missing from her blouse, her lip bleeding. “Why am I friends with white knights,” sighs Isabelle.

Bobbi rolls her eyes and daintily dabs at her lip with a napkin. “You heard the fuckhead,” she says. “Someone had to do it.”

Meanwhile, Skye and Jemma are staring, eyes wide (Jemma’s are more than a little starry). “You’re fucking hot,” Skye says.

“You’re cute when you gawk,” Bobbi replies, and she turns her attention back to what’s left of her meal. “Both of you.”

Jemma makes a funny whimpering noise. “We should really check you for more serious injuries,” she manages to say.

“Examine me all you like when we get back to my place,” Bobbi says casually. “Until then, let’s enjoy our food and the company.”

“I’ll tell the secret internet,” Sharon says. “Any details I need to know? Things he said?”

“Just the usual horrible crap,” Bobbi sighs. “But I doubt sincerely that he’s looking for a rematch any time soon.”

Melinda catches Bobbi’s eye and nods respectfully. “Well done,” Sif agrees.

“He might not be, but one of those other douches might,” Maya says, rather despondent. “It seems like no matter what anyone does, this shit keeps happening.”

Maria squeezes her hand. “Sooner or later, one of them will slip up. From what I know, it’s the lowest-ranking Hydra members that are the sloppiest. And it seems like those are the ones getting into trouble lately.”

“Still,” Maya mumbles. “Even sloppy assholes can cause serious harm.”

“I know,” says Maria. “But Clemons is one of my old friends on the force and he’s on it. He’s basically just waiting for a break to blow it wide open. It’ll happen.” Her voice goes softer as she adds, for Maya’s benefit, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Sheepishly, Maya nods. “I’ve still got a lab write-up to finish,” she says.

“Could you finish it pantsless while watching Netflix?”

“Probably.”

“Sound good?”

“It really does,” Maya agrees. “You guys gonna be offended if we cut out?”

Victoria shakes her head, unusually sympathetic. “I don’t blame you in the slightest,” she says. “Go have fun and do homework. Or… whatever it is you intend to do.”

Maria snorts. “We will, thanks. Later, Romanoff.”

“See you,” calls Natasha as they pull out cash for their bill and then leave.

The rest of them return to their meals, but it’s not five minutes before Sharon and Natasha’s phones both start buzzing. “Bet I know what that’s about,” Sharon says, smiling faintly.

“They’re so overprotective,” agrees Natasha with a fond roll of her eyes. She glances at her phone and says, “Yup. Boys wanna make sure we’re in one piece.”

“We weren’t even in the fight and they’re like this,” Sharon sighs to the rest of the table. “What are you gonna do?”

Melinda chuckles. “Men. At least yours are endearing about it.”

“Well,” says Natasha, eyes gleaming suddenly, “they know if they don’t behave they’ll get put in library detention.”

Skye blinks. “Do we even want to know what that means?”

“ _Bye_ ,” Sharon shouts, dropping cash on the table and pulling Natasha out the door.

That makes Skye burst into sudden giggles. “Guess that answers my question!”


	80. I stand a pretty good chance to dust myself off and dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill and Gamora host a slightly early Valentine's party. That goes about as you'd expect.

“We really need to get around to renting this place out,” Gamora sighs, glancing around their third space. It’s currently covered in hearts, lace, and other miscellaneous nonsense.

“No! Then we’ll lose our party space,” says Quill, who’s currently setting up a table with a bright red heart-covered tablecloth and a sign that says KISSING BOOTH $1. Rocket and Groot are set up next to the sign, the former wearing a diaper and “holding” a dollsize bow and the latter with a heart drawn on his bark. “Can’t have that.”

“You have a giant heart painted on your cheek,” Gamora retorts. “If that’s what a party space comes with, I want no part of it.”

“But you are already festive!” chimes in Drax. “You have pink hair and wings on your back!”

Gamora glares. “Completely unrelated to this ridiculous holiday,” she says. “Which, incidentally, isn’t for another week, since you apparently forgot.”

Quill shrugs. “People might be doing stuff next weekend. It wouldn’t be fun if nobody shows.”

Nebula, meanwhile, is watching from a distance, snickering at Gamora’s irritation. She’s wearing a black T-shirt with a diagram of a heart on it, because, well, she doesn’t own anything else remotely Valentine’s-esque.

Carina, who of course owned a vaguely foofy pink and red dress covered in hearts already, smiles. “I think this is nice,” she says. “Low-stress for everyone.”

“Of course you do,” replies Nebula, but it doesn’t have any of the bite it would if she were saying it to anybody else. “So Gamora, is your boyfriend coming?”

“No need to sound so smug,” Gamora huffs.

“That’s not an answer.” Nebula sounds no less smug. “So I’m guessing yeah he is.”

Gamora shrugs and turns her attention to the (decidedly store-bought and unspiked) baked goods table.

There’s a knock at the door, which turns out to be Clint and Laura. “Hey guys!” Clint says. “I came early, like you said.” He’s wearing a ridiculous curly wig, a toga, and wings and carrying a bow and a quiver of heart-tipped arrows.

“Arrived early,” Laura says, trying not to grimace. “That… is probably a nicer way of putting it.”

Clint shrugs. “Well, either way, here we are!”

“Wonderful costume!” says Drax, grinning. “And your dress is quite nice as well,” he adds to Laura. It’s pale pink and covered in black hearts with arrows through them.

“It’s just this side of kitsch, I thought, but in a nice way,” Laura says. “Thanks. Your, uh, chest is nice too.”

“Thank you!” Drax has foregone a shirt in the interest of painting his chest with hearts and arrows. “I felt it was appropriate.”

“Hi!” exclaims Carina, running over. “Quill told us you were dressing up but I need to ask why?”

“I’m Cupid,” says Clint with a smile.

“Oh my god,” says Nebula, looking as if she doesn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified.

“Hey, you look great!” says Quill. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Oh, no, I already had this.”

“My turn,” Gamora says dryly. “Why?”

Clint shrugs. “Came in handy before, didn’t see the point of getting rid of it.”

“Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to learn this,” Laura drawls.

“I mean, I thought about bringing Lucky and dressing him up as something too, but Laura pointed out he would probably try to eat everything.”

“Who’s Lucky?” Carina asks, tilting her head.

“My dog,” Clint replies. “I mean, I guess he’s mine. Nobody else seems to want him. He’s pretty smart, which is great except he steals pizza.”

“He sounds it. Well, c’mon in, we’re still working on setting up,” says Quill. “But you can help yourself to a snack or drink if you want, or whatever.”

Clint turns to Laura. “You want anything?”

“Such a gentleman,” Laura giggles. “Beer?”

“Coming right up,” he says, ambling over towards the refreshments table.

“We should have brought Valentines,” Laura says, obviously amused. “Terrible ones from the store. Those are hilarious.”

Clint laughs. “You remember how the ones from _Force Awakens_ were all about the Resistance? They weren’t even trying.”

“Oh my god, yeah,” Laura exclaims. “There’s one that literally just says, _The Resistance, My Valentine!_ Which, I mean, I guess you could come up with some ways to make that, y’know, holiday-appropriate, but they probably wouldn’t be kid-appropriate.”

Quill laughs too. “Oh my god, that sounds so funny. You’re funny.” He smiles, definitely only at Laura.

Which neither of them fail to notice. Laura, for her part, coughs awkwardly. “Also _Crush the Resistance_ should definitely have been _I Have a Crush On the Resistance_ ,” she says instead of acknowledging Quill.

“Right? And where was _You’re my Rey of sunshine!_?” Clint asks.

In the midst of this discussion, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Sharon enter. “Hey!” Sam calls, waving at the room in general. The group is wearing what must have been coordinated outfits, in various shades of pink and red.

“Oh my god you’re adorable!” Carina squeals excitedly.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” says Natasha with a grin.

Carina blushes, mumbling her thanks.

“You are all looking very nice!” Drax comments. “I do not often see men wearing pink, but it suits the three of you.”

“It can be tough to find, but I think it’s very pleasant,” Steve says with a smile.

Quill nods. “Anybody wanna try the kissing booth?” He waggles his eyebrows at Sharon and Natasha. “It’s only a dollar!”

“A dollar toward what, exactly?” Sharon asks.

Quill shrugs. “Pizza, maybe? Depends on how much I make.”

“I think we’re okay, thanks,” replies Natasha.

Clint strides over. “Hey guys! Glad you’re here.”

Bucky blinks. “What are you wearing?”

“He’s Cupid,” Laura calls, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Oh jesus,” sighs Natasha. “I didn’t even know you still _had_ that.”

Clint shrugs. “It’s a good costume.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I brought _music_!” Darcy exclaims, running in. A frothy mess of heart-patterned tulle seems to be exploding from her head. “Point me toward the stereo. This is important.”

Quill grins. “Awesome! It’s over here.” He leads her toward the sound setup.

“Did he know what he was agreeing to?” Sharon asks quietly.

“He wasn’t at Stark’s party that year she did the music, was he?” Sam’s grinning.

“There’s a disaster on the horizon, isn’t there?” Gamora asks, making a face.

“Probably,” agrees Bucky, also grinning. “Darcy’s playlists are...weird.”

“There’s a reason she didn’t do Stark’s _last_ party,” Natasha chimes in.

“Oh, god,” Gamora groans.

Rogue, MJ, Laura, and Cessily enter, all looking vaguely amused or baffled. “Hey!” calls MJ. As if to undercut their arrival, the first song starts playing. The first song, which begins _w-w-w-w-what did you saaaaaaay…_

“Oh, shit,” Sharon says cheerfully.

“Hey Darce,” says Rogue, coming to lace her fingers with Darcy. “‘Whatcha Say,’ huh?”

“It seemed important,” Darcy shrugs, twirling to give Rogue a kiss.

MJ snickers. “Well, I see Darcy’s up to her old tricks.”

“Tricks? April Fool’s Day is not for another two months!” says Drax. “I quite like this song.”

“Jesus Christ,” Gamora mutters. “It’s definitely time for the alcohol.” And she heads for the cooler.

“Let’s dance!” says Quill, starting off with one of his signature moves. “How about it?” he asks MJ, offering a hand.

She shrugs and takes it. “Why not.”

“Should we get her a present for taking him off our hands?” Raina drawls in Nebula’s ear, having suddenly appeared behind her.

Nebula jumps, then grimaces and pretends she wasn’t startled. “Probably. She’s better at tolerating annoying dudes than the rest of us.”

“It’s a gift some of us are blessed with,” Lorelei deadpans. “She doesn’t seem the type to have fun with it, though.”

“MJ is very sincere,” Laura chimes in. “Or at least she’s good at making herself seem sincere.”

Lorelei sniffs. “Good for her, I guess."

Kara approaches, a box of Valentine’s cookies in hand. “Just on the refreshment table?” she asks. “Hey, everyone.”

“Hi, Kara!” Carina exclaims, waving.

“Hi,” Kara replies. “Love the dress.”

Carina beams. “It seemed appropriate.”

“Your dress is cute, Kara,” grunts Nebula, offering her a half-smile.

Kara glances down, as if to remind herself what she’s wearing. “Gosh, uh, thanks,” she stammers. “I, uh… nice heart.”

“Appropriately grotesque,” Lorelei agrees approvingly.

Nebula grins. “I thought so.”

“Hey stranger,” says Natasha, wandering over to Kara. “How’s Autumn doing?”

“Really good,” Kara says, smiling. “Settling in. Keeping me company. She’s a sweetheart.”

“Good.” Natasha smiles back. “Hey, you wanna dance? My people are already occupied.” She nods to Sam and Steve, who seem to be in some kind of competition to see who can come up with the most ridiculous move, and Sharon and Bucky, who are doing some odd kind of swing dancing (considering it’s to Maroon 5’s “Sugar,” it’s not exactly on beat).

“I’m probably not very good at it,” Kara says, “but if you don’t mind…”

“Please. You’ve seen those dopes, right? C’mon, I don’t judge.”

Pepper is already wondering why she agreed to come to this, but exactly two seconds after she walks in the door, a song from _Frozen_ starts to play. The dumb one, that’s not romantic but people pretend that it is.

“Uh,” she says, to nobody in particular.

“I just want to make it clear to everyone," Darcy announces, “this is included ironically. Because it’s the worst love song ever. Contextually, it’s all about a douchebag with entitlement issues taking advantage of a ridiculously inexperienced rich girl. And out of context, it still ripped off an _Arrested Development_ joke.”

“Also, given the Nordic-medieval setting vaguely in place, sandwiches as we know them would be woefully anachronistic,” Raina calls before biting into one of the cookies Kara bought.

Clint is nodding along with Darcy’s acknowledgement of the _Arrested Development_ joke. “I still have to show that to you,” he says to Laura. “ _Arrested Development,_ I mean.”

“We’ve got time,” Laura replies, grinning.

Clint swallows and nods. “Yeah,” he says, as if he’s thinking. “Yeah, we do.”

“That’s charming,” Raina murmurs to Lorelei, and she might be sarcastic or she might not, it’s anyone’s guess.

“If you like that sort of thing,” Lorelei shrugs.

Pietro zips over to grin at them. “Hello there!”

“Evening,” Lorelei says dryly. “Just in time for… whatever the hell is going on.”

“Seems as if it is questionable music and silly dancing,” replies Wanda.

“It’s allegedly questionable with a purpose,” Raina says, nodding in Darcy’s direction. “Doesn’t make the dancing any better.”

“Speaking of dancing,” Pietro asks Lorelei, “would you care to? With me, I mean.”

Lorelei raises an eyebrow, daring him to go on.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, and I make it a priority to dance with very beautiful women.”

“You owe me,” Lorelei says to Raina before holding her hand out for Pietro to take, wearing the most condescending smile imaginable.

“I’m sorry about him,” says Wanda as she watches her brother lead Lorelei away.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Raina shrugs. “At least he’s honest.”

Meanwhile, Mike has slipped in and gone over to kiss Gamora on the cheek. “Hi there.”

“Hi yourself,” Gamora replies. “Do you have a bedtime tonight?”

“No, Ace is sleeping over with Mindy and Keisha. I thought ahead,” Mike replies with a smile.

Nebula glances over and happens to catch them giving each other particularly fond looks, and makes a gagging noise. “Get a room,” she groans.

“I apologize for the fact that she’s never going to stop doing that,” Gamora sighs.

Mike laughs. “I live with an eight-year-old, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. At least she’s honest.”

 

* * *

 

“How many times did he just say the word ‘ass,’ anyway?” Helen asks sounding vaguely baffled.

“Twenty-two,” replies Laura. “I was counting. Cessily tells me that this song is probably a joke, but neither of us knows for sure.”

“I know that not all American music is like this, but it gives a bad impression,” Helen declares.

Cessily shrugs. “I wasn’t allowed to listen to this kind of music, so I don’t know much.”

“Would you, if you’d been allowed to?” asks Bucky with a laugh. “I mean, it doesn’t really seem like your style, no offense meant.”

Cessily laughs too. “No, of course not. My roommate Santo plays stuff like this sometimes, but he and Julian actually go to clubs and stuff, so.”

“This seems like it would be actually horrible for clubbing,” Sharon muses. “It’s hardly danceable.”

Drax is dancing to it, because he’s Drax, but most people just look baffled. Darcy looks entirely delighted by this, of course.

In fact, when the next song is a Katy Perry song, everyone seems relieved. Drax can’t help but speak up, though. “She is pronouncing this word entirely wrong!” he says, grinning.

“It’s the inflection,” Lorelei says, sounding slightly bored. “But it is off-putting.”

 

* * *

 

When a song begins that sounds more like it came out of a parody of wholesome American bluegrass than an actual studio, everyone glances at each other in confusion. Except Clint, who deadpans, “‘Afternoon Delight’ was more adult-themed than its innocent melody would have you believe.”

Quill, sometime in the last five minutes, has gone to sit at his kissing booth. “Hey,” he calls to pretty much any women without shouting distance (so all of them). “Hey, it’s only a dollar! It’s a bargain!”

Lorelei raises an eyebrow. “Not often a man accurately values his own company.”

Nebula snorts from laughter. “Point.”

“I feel a little bad,” Carina frets, wrinkling her nose.

“We can’t have that,” Raina says, smirking as she glides over and pulls a dollar bill out of her bra. (Why it was there in the first place is another matter entirely.) “Evening, Peter.”

“Oh, hey,” says Peter, perking up. “You interested?”

“You could say that,” Raina replies, and she drops the dollar in front of him. “You know, I understand the impulse behind forgoing romance for commerce.”

He blinks. “I admit I don’t understand all of those words, but I like the sound of that!”

“In a way, I’ve done the same,” she continues, leaning forward with her elbow on the table and her cleavage at about eye-level. “Sometimes. It certainly can be simpler.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “So, can I go ahead or did you wanna talk some more? I mean, I’m okay either way. I’m a pretty good talker.” He grins playfully.

“Talk,” she says, blinking slowly at him. “Impress me.”

“Okay. Well, you ever heard the Eagles on vinyl? There is nothing better in the world,” he says with a chuckle. “I kind of have a vinyl collection. But like, not any of the newer stuff, just older stuff. Cassettes too. I have every single one of Bowie’s cassettes. He was a genius.”

“He co-created a musical,” Raina says, nodding as if that’s actually the conversationally appropriate reply (it’s not untrue, so as far as she’s concerned it is).

“Yeah! It sounds badass. And have you seen _The Man Who Fell to Earth_? It’s trippy shit, I love it.”

“I have,” Raina says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “A part of me doubts that I’d be able to stomach it as much if it wasn’t Bowie, but as is, fascinating.”

“Yeah. I was really torn up when he died, you know? Like my mom and I used to play his albums in the car and stuff. She’s where I get my taste in music from, she would make me mixtapes of her favorite songs for my birthday. She likes a lot of classic rock, but not just like, The Beatles, later stuff.”

She tilts her head. “That’s actually sort of sweet.”

He shrugs. “I mean, it was just me and her growing up, and my grandpa, so we hung out a lot. She’s pretty cool, for a mom.”

“I was raised by my grandmother,” Raina declares, looking down and back up again thoughtfully. “I sort of know how that goes, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “My dad vanished pretty much after signing the birth certificate, my mom followed him into the ether,” she says. “It never really bothered me. Just different than the bland beige storybook ideal.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he says, looking like he’s actually thinking about it on more than the surface level. “So, uh, did you want…?”

Raina rolls her eyes, grins, and picks up the raccoon to kiss it. “Thanks for the talk, skater boy,” she hums, and she saunters away.

It takes Quill a full minute to process what’s happened, and then he just yelps, “Oh, come _on!_ ” after her.

Natasha snickers, then abruptly tilts her head. “Has this song been playing for the last _five minutes_?”

“I think it’s a Bryan Adams song,” says Bucky, “so probably.”

 

* * *

 

As Ed Sheeran serenades the room, people have started to slow dance, though Quill has stayed at his booth, head resting on one hand. “Man,” he says to nobody in particular, “this sucks.”

“Do not be unhappy!” says Drax, coming over to thrust a dollar bill at Quill. “I have come to pay for your services!”

Quill just stares at him for a second. “Uh...okay…”

“Unless you would prefer not to, of course.”

Quill seems to think about it for a minute before he shrugs. “What the hell, why not. Go ahead, pal.”

Drax leans forward to kiss him, surprisingly gentle. “I hope that helps you feel better!” he says, grinning.

“You know what, it did a little. Thanks.”

“Awww,” Carina croons.

Nebula scoffs. “Well, at least somebody took him up on it.”

The slow dancing is making Kara feel a little awkward, honestly. It’s never been something she’s particularly good at, dancing, and intimacy… well. Still a little weird. Maybe if, like, Karen was here they could mess around, or she’d consider asking Raina if Raina hadn’t disappeared with Lorelei and a lighter ten minutes ago. As is, she’s mostly just feeling unsure.

Drax walks over, smiling. “Hello, Kara! Would you like to dance with me? Just as friends. I went out on a date with someone else last weekend.”

Kara raises an eyebrow, smiling. “Someone I know?”

“Perhaps! His name is Joey and he works at the arcade. He owns a motorcycle and says he’ll let me ride it sometime if I’d like to. He’s nice and pleasant-looking.”

“I think I’ve heard of him, at least,” she says, smiling. “I’m up for dancing as long as you forgive any missteps.”

“Of course! I have been told I have two left feet, which is not true. I only have one left foot.” He offers his hand.

She accepts it, giggling softly. “The fact that you tell it like it is is pretty great sometimes, you know?”

“Thank you! I’m glad it makes you happy.” He leads her out onto the dance floor.

“Awww,” Carina says again.

Nebula rolls her eyes but adds, “Thanks for not making me dance.”

“I would never!” Carina exclaims. “You don’t like it, so I’m not going to make you.”

Nebula leans against her. “I know. But thanks anyway.”

“Grooooss,” Darcy croons from the dance floor.

“Hey,” Gamora murmurs in Mike’s ear. “Did you have anywhere you needed to be tonight? After this?”

“No, like I said, Ace is with Mindy.” He smirks. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking, once everything is taken care of here you could come back to my place,” she says.

“I’d like that,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.

Nebula, who has of course been eavesdropping, moans unhappily and says to Carina, “I’m sleeping over tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat followed by [and all the ticking sounds around you, that’s the beating of my heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/13729972).


	81. we're all just looking for a little less crazy and sometimes it's a hard left turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor asks Jane an important question (not that one); everyone reacts accordingly.

“Hey,” Isabelle calls, ambling over to where Victoria’s trying not to look bored behind one of the counters. “I brought you something.”

Victoria’s eyebrow goes up. “What have we said about tip-offs?” she asks, meaning things that would cause people to (correctly) suspect things about their relationship.

Isabelle snorts. “I think people have started to figure things out. Mainly because we’ve gone to multiple events together and been extremely coupley. Anyway, here.” She holds up a gift bag - not covered in hearts, just plain red.

“Yes, but… _you know_ ,” Victoria hisses. “In light of… things.” She rolls her eyes, but she takes the bag. “Thank you for not picking something disgusting.”

“I know better,” says Isabelle with a smirk. “It’s nothing fancy, that’s for later. Just a little something to make the day more tolerable.”

Victoria nods in concession, then pulls a small but clearly fancy box of chocolates out of the bag. “You’re cute,” she says before she can stop herself.

“Now who’s giving tip-offs?” teases Isabelle.

“I was quiet,” Victoria defends.

“Yeah, yeah.” Isabelle leans over the counter. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

“I wouldn’t let you while we’re in the store,” Victoria insists.

“Come out with me for lunch, then?” Isabelle asks, pouting.

Victoria glances around the store, which is largely empty save Ororo (who’s snickering). “I’m taking lunch,” she announces, not making eye contact before going to the back room to retrieve her purse.

Isabelle winks conspiratorially at Ororo. Then, when Victoria gets back, she slips her hand into hers and they head to the food court.

“I hope you won’t be offended that I’m saving all of your presents for later,” Victoria says.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Isabelle says with a grin. “Do I get hints?”

“You most certainly do not,” Victoria exclaims. “You’d guess too easily. You’ve learned how to read me.”

Isabelle laughs. “Well, I’d certainly hope I have. I’ll just look forward to tonight then.”

“Good,” Victoria says. “I guess it’s all right that you showed up to surprise me.”

“I knew you’d come around,” says Isabelle cheerfully. “What do you want? My treat.”

“Horrible greasy pizza,” Victoria says. “And a contradictory diet soda.”

Isabelle squeezes her hand. “You’re adorable.”

“Just bracing you for the reaction you’re likely to get,” Victoria shrugs. “I’ll grab a table.”

“See you in a bit,” says Isabelle with a wink, heading for the Sbarro.

She returns a few minutes later with the requested slice of cheese pizza and soda, as well as a couple of pizza slices for herself. “Here you go,” she says, grinning.

“Thanks, dear,” Victoria replies with a self-parodying smile.

Which makes Isabelle laugh. “Alright, you can stop, you look like a Stepford Wife.”

“None of them would have the audacity to pull off my hairstyle,” Victoria retorts.

“Well, that’s true enough. And you’re too mouthy anyway,” teases Isabelle.

Victoria rolls her eyes affectionately. “Like you’re not,” she points out.

“I mean, my sneaking out at night to fuck one of the other wives would disqualify me anyway,” says Isabelle playfully.

Victoria snorts out a laugh and then promptly tries to hide it. “That’s a good point.”

Isabelle’s about to say something else, but she’s interrupted by a loud yelping noise coming from another part of the food court. “What _is_ that?”

Victoria cranes her neck to see. “Looks like Jane - you remember, science girl, Dorothy? - looks like she got some exciting news,” she says. Judging by the way Jane’s boyfriend is present while Jane is grinning (and Darcy is at the next table over grinning even wider) that’s got to be the case.

 

* * *

 

“Is there anything else you require, Jane?” Thor asks, smiling.

Jane shakes her head. “I’m really okay, I promise,” she chuckles. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to have lunch with the woman I love,” he says. “And I wanted to ask you a question. I do not wish to alarm you, it isn’t about marriage,” he adds quickly, “but it is something positive.”

Clearly, he’s trying to calm her down, but it has the effect of making her nervous even still. “Uh,” she says, trying not to make a face, “ask… away?”

“I was wondering, my love, if you would want to move in with me.”

Jane yelps, louder and much more undignified than she’d like to admit. “Are you serious?”

“Very much so. We have been together for quite a while, and I’d very much enjoy having you with me every day. But it is your choice, of course, and I will respect it if you would rather not.”

“No, no, it’s not - I definitely would rather,” Jane stammers. “Definitely yes!”

Thor grins widely. “Wonderful! I am so glad to hear it, Jane.” He leans in to kiss her on the lips.

Jane returns the kiss, only breaking when… a camera flashes in their faces. “Goddammit, Darcy,” she groans.

“What?” Darcy exclaims. “It’s historic. I ought to commemorate it.”

“How many times to we have to say this to you, only commemorate what we ask you to commemorate,” Jane mutters.

“You’ll thank me later,” Darcy says airily.

Thor chuckles. “Your ardor is appreciated, Darcy, but perhaps you should listen to Jane’s protests. I won’t have my love upset so soon after she has been so happy.”

“You are disgustingly gentlemanly,” Darcy tells him.

“So be it,” he says goodnaturedly.

 

* * *

 

“Aw,” coos Isabelle, “that’s sweet. They actually are sweet.”

“Remarkably tolerable for heteros,” Victoria agrees, sipping on her drink.

“I’m glad we didn’t have anything like that one around when we were talking about cohabitating, though,” Isabelle adds, nodding at Darcy.

“You mean you’re glad Bobbi wasn’t around, at least in public,” Victoria deadpans.

Isabelle snorts. “Well, yes. Bobbi wouldn’t dare shove a camera in my face.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she focused one on you from across a room, though,” Victoria declares. “Trying to be sneaky.”

“She might, but she’d never do anything with the pictures. I know too much.” Isabelle tosses her head.

 

* * *

 

“Well, _something_ exciting happened over there,” says Skye, craning her neck to watch Jane and Thor. “Maybe he proposed? Oh, Darcy’s there, I’ll just ask her.” She pulls out her phone.

“You’re so nosy,” Jemma frets, rolling her eyes.

Skye shrugs. “I like to know stuff.” Her phone buzzes. “Oh, he asked her to move in with him! Cute.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” Jemma exclaims.

“Jane’s a smart woman, I take it she knows what she’s signing up for,” Bobbi says dryly.

“And Thor’s like the least objectionable dude ever,” Skye points out.

“Except for Trip,” Jemma says. “Who’s very much spoken for.”

“Thor’s the least objectionable straight dude ever,” Bobbi corrects.

“Yeah, you know what I meant,” says Skye, rolling her eyes. Then she looks over at Kara, who’s sitting with them and who hasn’t said much in the last few minutes. “Hey, you okay?”

Kara glances up from her lunch, looking vaguely startled, and nods. “Yeah, I’m - yeah,” she mumbles. “Just thinking. That’s really cool for them!” She’s clearly trying to sound enthusiastic, and it’s mostly succeeding.

“Yeah,” says Skye gently. “What are you thinking about, if you don’t mind saying?”

“Just… Valentine’s Day,” Kara shrugs. “That it’s sort of funny that someone can say ‘here, this day is meaningful’ and then for ages after people feel like it is, even when it’s arbitrary.”

It’s an abstract enough response that Bobbi frowns, but this is not exactly her area of expertise, so instead she reaches into her purse and drops a handful of _Star Wars_ -themed candy Valentines on the table. “Sugar rush, incoming,” she says.

“Ooh,” says Skye, grabbing a pack of M&Ms with Phasma on them.

“Thanks, Bobbi,” Kara says, taking some Stormtrooper chocolates and immediately popping one in her mouth to discourage immediate attempts at further conversation.

“I brought Valentines too!” Jemma exclaims, and she fans out some colorful cardstock. “Please, everyone take one.”

“None of these jokes are actually romantic,” Bobbi points out, taking a card (clearly printed from the internet) with an alien in a suit that reads FORGET ME NOT.

“But they’re _Doctor Who_ puns, so that overrules it,” says Jemma. “And I could’ve been horrible and used the one that said ‘I suppose since it’s my last chance to say it, Valentine, I-’ with a sad picture of Ten, but I thought it might be too in-joke-y.”

Kara giggles, taking one with a robot man holding candy. “This is who Trip was for Halloween, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’s a Cyberman,” says Skye with a smirk. “And this is Fitz’s costume!” She taps hers, which says INFATUATE above a picture of a Dalek. “They’re all spoopy monsters, see.”

“Very spoopy,” Kara agrees solemnly. “Thank you, Jemma. These are really sweet.”

“You’re welcome!” Jemma beams. “I thought they were delightful.”

Skye leans over to kiss her, grinning. “Thank you, they’re adorable. And so are you.”

Jemma grins bashfully. “Thank _you_.”

“They’ll do this for another ten minutes if we don’t stop them,” Bobbi says to Kara, rolling her eyes fondly. “You’re the cutest, no you’re the cutest, no you are, no you are. It’s revolting.”

“Oh, like you don’t get in on it occasionally,” Jemma exclaims.

“I have never, ever started it though,” Bobbi counters.

“We’re adorable,” says Skye smugly, resting her head on Jemma’s shoulder.

“We are,” Jemma agrees. “Oh, Kara, if you want any more inexpensive candy, I’ve got bags of the stuff.”

Kara giggles, just a little nervously. “What kinds?”

“Well, I’ve a bag of those variety chocolates, you know, some peanut, some crispy, some dark, some regular,” Jemma explains. “Also peanut butter cups. And…”

“Variety chocolates sound nice,” Kara nods. “I’m just going to grab a few and head back to work, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Jemma says, frowning just a bit. “Take the whole bag.” She pulls one such bag from her purse and slides it across the table.

“Thanks, Jemma,” Kara says, biting her lip. “Nice talking to you guys.” And she hurries off.

“Did we upset her?” Jemma asks anxiously.

“I dunno,” says Skye, frowning. “I mean, I don’t know that it’s something we specifically did, you know? It’s probably weird for her, all this lovey-dovey crap being everywhere.”

“Yes,” Jemma hums. “I can’t even imagine. The poor thing.”

Skye nods. “Do we know if she’s like, doing anything tonight? I hate to think of her sitting around alone and sad and all…”

“I think she said something about dinner with Karen and the boys,” Bobbi offers. “They’ve sort of adopted her for holidays.”

“Good. That’s good.” Skye’s quiet a minute, then she smiles again and pokes Jemma. “Why don’t you ask Bobbi that question you had?”

Jemma’s eyes go very wide. “Oh! Yes. That. Question,” she stammers. “Bobbi, would you like to possibly come over tonight, maybe, for more gifts, and, and things?”

“Things, huh,” Bobbi teases.

“Yes,” Jemma says. “Dessert-food type things. And… others.”

Skye giggles. “Sex things,” she clarifies, handing Bobbi a Valentine.

Bobbi chortles. “Nice addition,” she says, motioning to the edited caption, which reads I’M YOUR ASTROMECH **_SEX_** FRIEND! and accompanies a picture of BB-8.

“So?” Jemma prompts, feeling very silly about the way her heart is beating fast even though she knows the answer.

“Of course, weirdos,” Bobbi replies. “I’ve got gifts for you, too.”

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims. “I mean, I know this whole… romance business. Isn’t really for you. But I wanted, we wanted, to make sure today was nice for you anyway.” Skye nods agreement.

“You’re sweet,” Bobbi says. “Thank you for saying that and meaning it. And for the record, not that you’re asking me to and I know that so don’t worry, this is closer than I get to this whole romance business ever. Basically.”

“Aw,” Skye says with a smirk, “well, that’s super flattering.”

“Not all of us can express affection through incredibly clever edits of cards,” Bobbi replies snarkily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [affection is in great demand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/13868263).


	82. I'm already out of foolproof ideas, so don't ask me how to get started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura has a secret admirer (and nobody is surprised about who it is), and Trish has a less secret admirer who is much less wanted.

As grade school as it sounds, Laura wants to make friends with as many people as possible, and mostly she accomplishes this by varying her lunch partners. Everyone’s on a different schedule, so this isn’t difficult.

Today, she’s sitting with Maria, eating a sandwich and listening to… whatever Maria wants to discuss. It’s easy to listen to her: her storytelling style is blunt, not always polite, but amusing.

At the moment, Maria’s in the middle of telling a story about Fury chasing some repeat shoplifters out of the mall, when Pietro runs up. “Here,” he says, offering Laura a card. “This is for you.”

Laura raises an eyebrow. “From you?”

“No,” scoffs Pietro. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Right, just making sure,” Laura says. She opens the envelope to reveal a card with a bright sun cartoon on the front, and on the inside it just says “i hope you have a nice day :D” in what honestly looks like highlighter. “I take it you aren’t allowed to tell me who this actually is from?”

Pietro grins. “Nope! See you later.” He jogs off.

“This is a new development,” Laura says.

Maria looks at the card before bursting into laughter. “This is Barton, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I don’t have any way of proving that,” Laura murmurs doubtfully.

“No, but who else could it be? He would write something like that,” Maria points out.

“Hey, I don’t know what anyone else would write, really,” Laura defends.

Maria snorts. “It’s obvious, but you can deny it if you want. Really, it’s pretty cute. Dorky, but cute.”

“I’m not denying it,” Laura demurs, “I’m just… considering it. But yes. I happen to agree with that.” She tries to sound confident in that.

“You’re perfect for each other,” adds Maria, smirking. “Dorks.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” calls Nebula, “I think this is for you.”

“I assume you’re not referring to your patronage in this store,” Laura says, tilting her head.

“No. There’s a card or something taped to this candle.” Nebula strides over holding the candle, which is pale pink and labeled “Fresh Cut Roses,” as far away from her as possible. “Has your name on it.”

“Well, that’s mildly unsettling,” Laura murmurs, taking the candle and pulling the envelope off.

“What, do you have like a secret admirer or something?” scoffs Nebula.

“I’m starting to think so,” Laura says as she reads the card, which says “you have a pretty smile :)” inside. “Although probably not so secret.”

Nebula rolls her eyes. “Gross.”

“Are you looking for something, or just exploring?” Laura asks.

Shrugging, Nebula answers, “Carina likes these dumb things. I thought I might get her one, I dunno.”

“That’d be sweet of you,” Laura says. “It’s a good time to buy candles. The post-holiday rush of discounts.”

“I guess,” grunts Nebula. “She likes pink shit, and stuff that smells like flowers. Got any ideas?”

“The one that my note was stuck on is actually a pretty fair match for that,” Laura points out.

Nebula stares at it for a minute before saying, “Yeah, I guess so. Okay, sure. Thanks.”

“Of course,” Laura grins. “I’ll keep a mental list of pink shit that smells like flowers in case you ever need any more.”

Nebula gives her the smallest smile before she reverts to her usual disdainful expression.

 

* * *

 

This continues to happen (cards at the cash register, hidden in her locker, passed her way in the hall) for a few days until finally one of the cards says “meet me at the Corner Bakery Cafe after your shift tomorrow :)” and, shrugging, she does, expecting no surprises.

Sure enough, there’s Clint, holding a rose and wearing a very dopey grin.

“Hi!” he says. “Happy Valentine’s! Or, well, week after Valentine’s. I, uh, got a little behind schedule.”

“Yeah, I was gonna say,” Laura teases.

“Oh well,” Clint says with a shrug, “thought that counts?” He holds out the rose and a small paper bag that he’d held behind his back.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees with a chuckle. “Nice flower. You pick it out yourself or just grab one that looked pretty?”

“Uh. You won’t get mad if I say the second one, right?”

“No,” she says, rolling her eyes fondly. “It’s kind of what I figured you’d done.”

“Well, good, I think. Anyway, here.”

Laura opens the bag and pulls out a cookie with a ginger cat face on it as well as an envelope. “Is this some weird real-life Neko Atsume?” she asks, halfway kidding.

Clint laughs. “No, no, I just...that’s what that Firestar cat looks like, right? I googled and gave Volstagg some pictures that came up, but I dunno if they were the right thing…”

“No! No, it’s perfect, that’s exactly…” She trails off, frowning at the cookie. “I’m not going to want to eat him, but it’s perfect. Is the envelope another dopey smiley face card?”

“Open it and see!”

It is, in fact, another dopey smiley face card, one that just says “for you :)” and has a not insignificant amount of money in it. “Dare I ask?”

“This next part is a field trip,” he says cheerfully. “You’re off, right?”

“Uh,” she replies, very articulately. “I am, yes. Is this a good field trip?”

“I think so. There’s another surprise waiting for you.”

“Jeez, another one? All I did was make you dinner,” Laura quips.

Clint grins. “This one’s the big one. C’mon!”

 

* * *

 

“So,” says Natasha, smirking at Laura across the table, “I hear you have a secret admirer.”

Laura raises an eyebrow. “Not so secret after all,” she says pointedly, nudging Clint.

Clint grins and half-shrugs. “I mean, I dunno if it was ever that much of a secret.”

“When you don’t sign cards to people you like, that’s a secret admirer,” Laura points out.

“Yeah, but was there ever any doubt about who it was?” Natasha asks. “I mean. Really.”

“No,” Laura says. “But that’s the whole game, or something.”

“Good point. So what did this dork end up doing for you, anyway? He told me he had, and I quote, ‘the best idea ever’ but wouldn’t elaborate.”

“Well,” Laura begins, blushing, “there’s, ah, a cat. In my cat books. Not the cat books I write but the cat books I read. And he’s ginger.”

“Like you, Nat!” chimes in Clint with a shit-eating grin. To which Natasha rolls her eyes and whacks him on the arm.

“So he got Volstagg to make me this cat cookie,” Laura continues. “Which is a cute idea and also a horrible one because I’m never going to eat it. And he gave me an envelope full of money, which, a little weird but I was willing to go with it. And then he dragged me to the cat shelter.”

“There was an orange kitten!” Clint interrupts. “It was that exact cat! And I knew I needed to show her, so I did.”

“Not just show,” Laura amends, smirking. “That’s what the money was for. He basically bought me a cat.”

Against her better judgment, Natasha smiles. “Alright, that is cute as hell.”

“The single best belated Valentine’s present ever,” Laura agrees cheerfully. “Wanna see pictures because there are pictures.”

“Sure, why not.” Natasha’s not much for cats, but Laura’s enthusiasm is endearing.

“Okay!” And with that Laura’s phone is out and she’s narrating each picture (there are already dozens).

 

* * *

 

“So in today’s adorable couple news,” Natasha says, “Barton bought Laura a kitten.”

Steve lays a pair of jeans out on the table and starts folding. “Did Laura want a kitten?”

“I mean, she took about a thousand pictures of it and named it Firepaw or something, so I’m assuming they’re getting along fine.”

“That’s nice, then,” he agrees. “I take it you’ve seen the thousand pictures?”

“Oh yeah. It’s a pretty cute little thing. Orange, big green eyes. Laura’s over the moon and Clint wouldn’t stop smiling just looking at her. It’s gross.” Natasha grins.

“They seem really well-matched,” Steve muses.

“They are. I mean, I give him a lot of shit for his romantic choices but Laura’s actually great.”

“I don’t think it’s that he makes the wrong choices about people, I think he might just not always make the best choices about what to do with people,” he says with typical fairness.

Natasha smirks. “Diplomatic as always. Well, anyway, they’re grossly adorable.”

“Doesn’t admitting that feel nice?” he teases.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “If you tell him I said that, just remember I know where you sleep.”

“You wouldn’t do anything too bad,” he retorts brightly. “You’d never get past the other people in my bed.”

“Goddammit, you’re right,” she mutters. “Whose idea was this anyway?”

“I’m pretty sure it was a group decision, and you love us for it,” he replies blithely.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Steve calls to Jessica, striding into the art store. “You guys have a good Valentine’s?”

She shrugs. “I mean, yeah. It’s a dumb holiday, but Trish likes it, so we got her flowers and went out to an actual restaurant and shit. You?”

“Oh, we had a lot of sex,” he replies, grinning.

Jessica blinks. “Well, good for you, Rogers,” she says, smirking. “Wouldn’t have expected that.”

“We have a lot of sex regularly,” he replies smugly. “Well, on a regular basis. The sex is rarely regular sex.”

Snorting, Jessica says, “Well, _that_ I expected. What’re you in for today?”

“Canvas,” Steve says. “Bucky’s birthday is pretty soon.”

“Aw. You gonna paint him like one of your French girls?”

“I hadn’t decided yet,” he smirks. “I’m going to paint him something, though.”

“Adorable.”

“I do what I can,” Steve shrugs.

 

* * *

 

Jessica’s shift is over at 9:30, and she decides to wander over to Applebee’s because even though Trish is there till 10:30, Luke’s just starting his shift and his boss has started to get grumpy that she’s hanging around there all the time (even though she totally pays for all her booze). If nothing else, she can hang out in the lobby and people watch, or something.

Trish smiles at her when she comes in, but she’s tied up with a long line, so she can’t do more than that. Jessica isn’t bothered; she just takes a look around. There’s a family of four, the kids chattering excitedly but at least they’re not shrieking; an older couple who are probably taking advantage of the senior discount; and some Ryan Reynolds-looking motherfucker wearing a RENT shirt, sitting next to a girl with messy dark hair streaked with white. Those last two are whispering to each other, and judging by the way they’re giggling she suspects whatever they’re saying isn’t suitable for this establishment’s family-friendly vibe. Which she can respect.

There’s still about twenty minutes until Trish is free and Jessica is bored out of her mind (there’s only so many times you can check Neko Atsume, and she hates that she’s resorted to that but Trish put it on her phone and hell, it was right there) when a tall blond dude comes in. He looks kind of like a living Ken doll, or like maybe Steve if Steve were more boring. “Hey there,” he says, strolling up to Trish. “I don’t suppose you’re on the menu tonight?”

“Considering this isn’t Canni-bee’s, no, I’m not,” Trish replies with a cheerful smile.

He snorts. “I’m sorry, was that too much? I’m told I come on strong sometimes.”

Jessica clenches the hand that’s resting on her leg so tightly that she definitely leaves fingernail marks.

Trish shrugs, seeming to relent a bit. “It wasn’t the worst line I’ve ever heard, but it wasn’t good.”

“You must get that kind of thing a lot, face like that.”

Jessica has to use every ounce of willpower not to jump him and beat him to a pulp, right here in the restaurant.

“You know, I think it’s less my face and more the way that women are supposed to be socially conditioned to whatever nonsense comes out of a man’s mouth,” Trish replies. She tried to give him a chance to backpedal. It didn’t work.

That makes Jessica kind of want to jump Trish instead, for an entirely different reason.

Blond guy shrugs. “Maybe. Don’t suppose there’s any way I can salvage this?”

“None that come to mind,” Trish says with a big fake smile.

“I’m not usually this bad, I swear,” he says, smiling back. “Sure you don’t feel like giving a second chance?”

She blinks at him, cartoonishly stupefied. “I’m otherwise accounted for. We’ll call you when your table is ready.”

Jessica has to try hard not to laugh out loud at that.

 

* * *

 

“When they take the girls to learn about their periods in school, do they take the boys to learn about how to harass the girls?” Trish asks with a sigh, nodding for Jessica to follow her outside.

“I think they must. There’s gotta be a points system or some shit, it’s the only explanation.” Jessica rolls her eyes. “You did good, though.”

“And the decent ones were all absent that day,” Trish says. “That’d make sense, statistically. And thanks. In a weird way, it’s always nicer when you’re not just cheering me on in my internal monologue.”

Jessica smirks. “Glad to help. You wanna get food?”

“Please,” Trish agrees. “Terrible food we can pair with terrible movies, if that works for you.”

“It really does,” says Jessica, glancing around before offering Trish her hand.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” says Clint from the doorway, “we’re here.”

Laura grins. “Come on,” she says, waving them in. “Only luck will account for Firepaw actually deciding to end his four-hour nap, but it’s worth a try!”

Clint comes in with Lucky in tow, who trots over to sniff at Laura, tail waving. “I mean, it’s fine, we were just gonna watch a movie anyway, right?”

“Well, yeah, but, y’know,” Laura says, shrugging sheepishly. “The pets should probably say hi.”

“Yeah, totally.”

Meanwhile, Lucky is ambling toward where Firepaw is curled up on one of Laura’s sweaters, still sniffing. The kitten uncurls, blinks at Lucky, then reaches out to bat him on the nose playfully before dashing away. Lucky trots after Firepaw, looking as amused as a dog can look.

“That went well, I think?” Laura says.

“I mean, we’re gonna have to watch them to make sure nothing goes wrong, but yeah, I guess so.” Clint is grinning. “That worked out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read the Warriors series, don't, but also a quick explanation of Laura's cat's name because it will change: his name is Firepaw right now because he's the age to be an apprentice (less than a year old generally), then later he's going to be Fireheart (the warrior names change the suffix from -paw to another descriptor), then Firestar (-star is the suffix for leaders). Yes, it's stupid, but that's how it works.
> 
> Followed by [she is shaking, she is shy while we are waiting for her message](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/13990153).


	83. I will become yours and you will become mine, I choose you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a wedding. It's been a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually takes place on March 1st, because we wanted their wedding to correspond with our anniversary, because we're shameless.

“First question,” Bobbi says, “hair up or down?”

Isabelle shrugs. “Up, I guess? Victoria said she’d probably keep hers down.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bobbi chuckles. “Up it is. Give me a second to plan this out.”

“Oh, no worries. I trust you to figure out something nice.”

“I will,” Bobbi assures. “Neither overly trendy nor overly weird.”

That makes Isabelle snort. “Please. Not that I’d know either of those.”

“Timeless elegance, with a side of butch,” Bobbi declares. “Whatever that looks like.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” snarks Isabelle. “So, I’m expecting Hunter to not speak to me for weeks, once he hears about this.”

Bobbi’s turn to snort. “You really aren’t telling him, huh.”

“I thought about it, but I really don’t need him drama-llamaing all over everything. Besides, Victoria doesn’t like him much, which is fair. He’s kind of an ass.” Isabelle laughs.

“Yeah, just kinda,” Bobbi snarks. “Your memories will thank you, or something.”

“That’s what I figured.” Isabelle’s quiet a moment, before adding, “So like, does shit get weird once you have rings? I mean, I figure you’d know.”

Bobbi makes a face. “Well, I’m pretty sure my marriage and your marriage are about as unlike each other as any two marriages can be,” she points out. “There’s probably, I dunno, some things that _could_? But Victoria’s not unhealthily possessive or needy anyway, and you’re actually good at doing responsible shit together.”

“Good point,” says Isabelle with a nod. “I just, I dunno. It’s not something I ever really thought of for myself so I never had the unrealistic expectations.”

“That’s going to be a big help,” Bobbi says. “You’re not going into it trying to fulfill an ideal.”

“Yeah. I just love her, that’s all.”

“Which is pretty cool,” Bobbi nods. “It’s actually doing this for the right reasons.”

 

* * *

 

“Who would have seen this coming,” Pepper muses fondly as she brushes out Victoria’s hair.

“I sincerely doubt that most of my acquaintances would even have expected me letting another person close enough to me to play with my hair,” Victoria smirks.

“Not a bad point,” Pepper concedes, “but I mean the part where you’re one of the first of our extended social circle to settle down.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “I’m getting married, not fleeing to the suburbs with a van and a baby,” she says. “I don’t think of it as settling down. I think of it as wanting my legal status to reflect my emotional one.”

“Ever the pragmatist,” Pepper teases.

“I think what you’re really trying to say is that prior to Isabelle I’ve been picky about people, so it’s surprising to see that I’ve found someone I’m comfortable committing to.”

“What I’m trying to say is I’d never have set you up with Isabelle, but you two manage to work well together,” Pepper shrugs. “It’s nice. Seeing people find each other.”

 

* * *

 

“What, seeing each other before we start, with her in her dress? That’s bad luck,” teases Maria.

Victoria raises an eyebrow. “Not doing would be logistically impractical,” she retorts.

“Besides,” says Isabelle with a smirk, “she’s not wearing white either, technically.”

“By cranky mother-in-law standards,” Bobbi points out helpfully. “Most people look at that and just see white.”

“Well, most people who aren’t in retail,” Maya quips.

“So is this everyone?” Maria asks, glancing around the small group.

“No, there’s one more coming, right?” Pepper clarifies.

“Yeah,” Victoria nods. “He should be here soon.”

Maria laughs. “ _He_? A man? It’s not Hunter, is it?”

“God no,” replies Isabelle. “It’s just- well, you’ll see.”

Not two minutes later Heimdall comes in, looking a bit chagrined. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Something came up.”

“See?” Victoria says to Maria, before shrugging at Heimdall. “It’s fine, you aren’t late at all.”

Maria blinks at him. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hello, Maria,” he says with a smirk.

Maya tilts her head. “This is a funny little wedding party,” she declares.

“Think you got enough witnesses, Isabelle?” Bobbi teases.

Glancing around, Isabelle grins. “Could do with a few more, actually.”

“This is so weird,” Bobbi says to the others. “That these dorks wanted more than one person to watch them be dorks about each other, that is.”

“It really is,” Pepper agrees. “I feel like this shows their growth as humans, or something.”

“You know we can hear you,” Victoria groans. “We’re standing right here.”

Maria snickers. “Yeah, Morse, be nice,” she says playfully. “It’s their wedding day.”

“I never said it was bad-weird,” Bobbi points out cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

“You’d think they would have a designated ‘private moment’ room here,” Victoria murmurs, tugging Isabelle into an alcove.

“The nerve,” teases Isabelle before pulling Victoria in for a kiss. “So.”

“So,” Victoria repeats. “Wife.”

“Wife,” sighs Isabelle, resting her forehead against Victoria’s. “Doesn’t feel all that different so far, if I’m being honest.”

“No,” Victoria shrugs, “but it felt pretty good before, so it feels pretty damn good now.”

Isabelle chuckles. “Fair point. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Victoria says. “In more ways than I thought possible.”

Isabelle brings a hand up to stroke Victoria’s hair. “You look beautiful, incidentally.”

“Thank you,” Victoria hums. “You know I love you in a suit.”

“I do know,” says Isabelle with a smirk. “Always happy to please you.”

“You always do,” Victoria says.

“Thanks, wife,” murmurs Isabelle, smiling.

“It may not feel much different but I sure like how it sounds,” Victoria says.

“Me too.” Isabelle kisses her again. “I feel like we might be missed, though.”

“Yeah, they’re probably getting restless,” Victoria sighs playfully.

“Shall we go to our wedding afterparty?” Isabelle asks, squeezing Victoria’s hand.

“I think we shall,” Victoria declares grandly.

 

* * *

 

“Look, they don’t want to make a show of it, but it’s their wedding day,” Bobbi says in a low voice, looking from the table where the group is sitting back to the waiter. “You should bring over some alcohol. You know, in celebration.”

Heimdall nods. “They’d be very appreciative.”

The waiter seems to consider for a moment before nodding. “I’ll be right back.”

“Success,” Bobbi smirks.

Chuckling, Heimdall asks, “Have you done that often?”

“This exact setup?” Bobbi shrugs. “No, but I’ve convinced waiters to bring alcohol for other reasons. It’s not that hard.”

“What did you do?” Maria asks, leaning over.

Bobbi rolls her eyes and sits back down. “Something important.”

“Well, that bodes well,” says Isabelle with a smirk.

“I know it does,” Bobbi says airily. “So is anyone else aware of this development or are we the lucky few?”

Isabelle snorts. “Mostly just you guys, for now. I think you told Fury, didn’t you?” she asks Victoria.

“I did,” Victoria confirms. “For professional reasons. Which means Irani probably knows, although I don’t mind. They won’t go gossiping. They’re adults. And god knows how she found out but Raina definitely had a bouquet sent to the apartment this morning. All fake, but still.”

“Ah yes, that one,” says Heimdall with a nod. “She knows things.”

“Somehow or another,” Bobbi agrees with a laugh. “She didn’t hear it from me.” Other parties may have heard it from her, but they’ve been threatened with no sex to keep it secret, so.

Maria’s laughing too. “Did Fury send anything?”

“He sent a set of knives,” says Isabelle, “which didn’t surprise me at all.”

“Practical and not at all romantic,” Maya muses, smirking. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Bobbi snorts.

Then the waiter appears with a bottle of champagne. “With our congratulations,” he says, smiling.

“I think someone put them up to this,” Victoria says to Isabelle.

“And I’m pretty sure I know who,” says Isabelle, staring pointedly at Bobbi. “Morse?”

Bobbi shrugs. “Well, something had to happen to make this special,” she says.

“Thanks, I think,” replies Isabelle, rolling her eyes. “Who wants some?”

“Yes, please,” Maya says eagerly.

“Is the honeymoon a secret too?” Pepper asks wryly.

“As nice as that would be, we should probably leave contact information in case of some unforeseen emergency,” Victoria replies with a playfully heavy sigh.

In an instant Pepper’s phone is out.

Isabelle raises an eyebrow. “Well, good to know you’re on top of things, Pepper.”

“It’s what I do,” Pepper shrugs.

“We’re going to Switzerland,” Isabelle continues. “She wants culture-” she nods at Victoria “-and I’m going skiing.”

“Also, I speak some French, so we won’t be completely reliant on phrasebooks,” Victoria says. “Let me get the travel information out of my purse.” She starts rummaging.

“Well that’s fancy,” Bobbi hums, sipping her drink. “Lots of snuggling in a lodge by the fire or something?”

“Or something.” Isabelle grins wickedly.

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Museums, if I have my way.”

“You will,” assures Isabelle, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Pepper lifts her glass, smirking. “To Victoria and Isabelle, the biggest secret saps,” she says.

“I’ll drink to that,” says Maria, raising her glass as well.

“God, we have to toast, don’t we?” Victoria mumbles to Isabelle.

Isabelle shrugs. “Technically, no, but they’ll probably badger at least one of us into doing something.”

Victoria sighs. “Well, fine then,” she says. “To our friends, who didn’t make this too weird. And to my wife, who never makes anything weird.”

“Aw,” hums Isabelle, smirking. “To _my_ wife, who makes me actually want to stick around.”

“High praise,” Bobbi says under her breath.

“To your happiness,” says Heimdall.

“And your continual enviable stability,” Pepper adds.

They drink, and then Maria asks, “So are any of you going to that screening of _Fury Road_ next weekend?”

Bobbi holds up a hand, smirking. “I am most definitely involved,” she says.

“We’re gonna see how we feel, our flight gets back that morning,” says Isabelle.

Maya nods. “It sounds fun, though,” she says.

“Oh, yeah, the one that Natasha and everyone were for Halloween?” Pepper asks. “Didn’t that come out a year ago?”

Bobbi shrugs cheerfully. “Principle of the thing.”

“I have a previous engagement,” chimes in Heimdall, “but I hope you enjoy yourselves. It sounds like a good time.”

They converse for a few more minutes before the waiter brings over two slices of cake, as ordered earlier. “I’m glad we decided to do this the dignified way,” says Isabelle.

Victoria laughs bluntly. “Oh, yes,” she agrees. “The other way is both messy and just - unappealing.”

“But a foundation of distrust and vague disgusting symbolism is just how the heteros do it,” Bobbi interjects, rolling her eyes.

Maria snorts. “Oh that’s right, you’d know, huh? My condolences.”

“I’m not saying boy-girl relationships can’t work when only one of the parties is actually hetero, or pretends to be, but it does have a way of putting you at opposite ends of the spectrum for processing how to deal with each other,” Bobbi sighs.

“Balancing hetero expectations with the, shall we say, more prevalent logic about certain things that can come from not feeling pressured to play it typical is hilarious fun,” Maya adds. To the newlyweds she says, “You guys are lucky.”

“Thanks,” replies Isabelle, unable to keep the smugness out of her voice. “I know.”

“It’s inspiring, really.” Maria grins. “Considering your, y’know, reputations.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Victoria asks indignantly, although she probably knows.

“Well,” Pepper says hesitantly.

“You aren’t known as the friendliest person,” Heimdall points out. “I believe she meant that it is nice that you managed to find someone who didn’t mind that.”

Maria nods. “Essentially.”

“And she meant I slept around a lot,” adds Isabelle cheerfully. “Which, she’s not wrong.”

“And yet somehow the shrew was tamed and the gadabout settled,” Bobbi says with a wistful tone. “How very romantic.”

“Gross,” says Isabelle. “Anyway, shall we?” She offers a small forkful of cake to Victoria.

“We shall,” Victoria says, taking a bite and offering another forkful in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [I'm not bulletproof when we smile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/14097404).


	84. I was meant to be a warrior please, make me a Hercules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The local theater has a special post-Oscars screening/shadowcast of _Mad Max: Fury Road_ , and everyone goes all-out.

“...but did you _have_ to make it so accurate?” whines Fitz.

Jemma makes a face, tugging on her rather skimpy white gauze top. “There’s no point in doing something if you don’t do it accurately,” she says, trying to sound aloof.

“Yes, but you’re…” Fitz waves his hand vaguely at Jemma. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s actually fairly warm in here,” Jemma says. “Especially given the relatively large amount of people in a small space.”

Fitz pouts. “I suppose.”

“Hey guys!” Peter and Gwen come over, Gwen wearing black eyeshadow and a yellow tank top and holding what seems to be a leash, which is connected to Peter’s muzzle. Peter seems to be grinning. “Damn, you look nice,” says Gwen to Jemma.

“Thank you!” Jemma exclaims, rolling her eyes at Fitz. “Somebody doesn’t think so. But it was the logical option. I mean, I already had the red wig.”

“What, Fitz, you didn’t wanna join?” teases Peter, his voice muffled.

“Not especially.” Fitz narrows his eyes. “Did you go out and get a muzzle just for this?”

“Oh, no, we already had it,” Gwen replies casually. “So Skye and Bobbi and Trip are in this thing, right?”

Jemma nods, starry-eyed. “They’re going to be wonderful.”

“They are,” adds Fitz, smiling. “We haven’t heard about anything else from them for a week.”

“Aw,” coos Gwen. “That’s sweet. We’re gonna get seats, you guys have fun!” And she leads Peter off.

They make their way off to the side, since most of the middle is already full, and then Gwen spots MJ sitting several seats down. “Hey!” she calls. “MJ!”

Hearing her name, MJ turns around and then grins. “Hey, lovebirds! You look good.”

“I mean, we were too lazy to commit,” says Gwen with a shrug. “Not like you guys.” MJ, Darcy, and the other Helldivers are dressed as the Wives, with Nebula as Furiosa.

“You look cute,” Darcy says, looking them over. “Digging the, uh, heavy metal.”

Peter laughs. “Thanks. You too. Nice arm, Nebula.”

Because of course, Nebula’s torn off her shirt sleeve to show off the mechanical tattoo sleeve on her arm. “Thanks yourself,” she says, looking uncharacteristically pleased.

“I think she’s perfect for it,” Carina chimes in, grinning. In her opinion, her girl is one of the most ideal Furiosas in the room, but she’s not going to brag too much.

Laura’s smiling. “They let me be Toast because I know about weapons too.” She glances over at Cessily, who is also smiling but in a baffled way. “That was her idea.”

“She just reminded me of you,” says Cessily with a shy smile and a shrug.

“I don’t look like Cheedo at all,” says Rogue, “but that’s okay.”

“We’re improvising,” says Darcy, who’s definitely wearing a blonde wig. “This is fun, watching everyone play. And look.” She giggles and nods toward a corner of the theater, where Loki (covered in white paint) is sulking and staring at Lorelei (in the skimpiest white gauze outfit that could be imagined).

Gwen snickers. “Well, he’s dressed appropriately.”

“He certainly is staring,” Carina adds with a disapproving frown, which deepens when it becomes apparent that Lorelei is sitting with the Maximoffs and that they’re now subject to the staring as well.

“Hey look,” says Nebula with a smirk, “that mall cop and his dominatrix have a leash too.”

Sure enough, Coulson and Rosalind come in, with Rosalind leading Coulson with a thin leather leash. Rosalind is smirking, as if she can feel people staring at her.

“They certainly do,” Carina squeaks, blushing.

“Huh,” says Rogue, tilting her head. “I guess it talks all kinds of folks.”

Meanwhile, Hope is walking down one of the aisles, arms wrapped around her bare midriff, nervously looking for an empty seat. Before she finds one, she sees Sif and Melinda, who of course are both Furiosa, and waves very syly. “You look really nice,” she manages to say.

Sif grins. “You too! Nice to see you here.”

“I thought it, it might be fun,” Hope stammers. “Possibly a good vaguely work-related social activity. I’m going to try to do more of those.”

“Good.” Melinda’s smiling too, just slightly. “Hope you have fun.”

“Hey!” calls Jessica from where she and Luke are sitting. “Hope, c’mon over here.”

Waving again as she goes, Hope scurries over. “Hey, Jessica, hey, Luke,” she chirps. “Nice, uh, mouths.” She smiles anxiously.

Jessica grins, showing off the shiny silver paint she’s sprayed on. “Nice outfit.”

“I mean, it’s nothing compared to some of these,” Hope says, gesturing around the room, “but thank you. Costume parties are kinda fun.”

“Yeah,” says Luke. “You ever seen this before?”

Hope nods. “Just once, but white fabric and combat boots is pretty easy to pick up. You guys?”

“A bunch. It’s kickass.” Jessica smirks. “And it feels good to watch a bunch of shitty dudes die, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense!” Hope says. “What’s so interesting is that this movie seems like such an exaggeration but also it really isn’t. I mean, from what I know.” She shakes her head. “I’m really lucky. Guys don’t try to pull that with me, or they haven’t.”

“If they did, I’d kill them,” replies Jessica darkly.

“And I’d get to what’s left,” adds Luke.

“That’s sweet,” Hope says with a nervous smile.

Wanda, who’s been glancing around at everyone, notices Hope and watches her for several minutes. She makes a thoughtful noise in her throat, which makes Pietro glance over at her in confusion. “It’s nothing,” she says quickly, gaze darting away from Hope.

“What is?” Lorelei asks coolly.

Wanda coughs. “I think it’s interesting that all the women who do science are Capable. They all have goggles.”

“Work with what you have, I guess,” Lorelei muses. She can tell that isn’t what Wanda meant. She’s not going to push it. You’re not supposed to do that when you’re babysitting.

The lights dim a minute later and a blonde woman wearing all-white comes out to stand in the middle of the stage. “Hey everybody!” she calls. “Alison here, you probably know me as Columbia from _Rocky Horror._ It’s my pleasure to welcome you to tonight’s shadowcast screening of _Mad Max: Fury Road_!”

The audience applauds and then she continues, “You’ve all got sheets that have your cues on them, so be sure you’re keeping an eye out for those. And give the shadowcast players some applause when you feel like it, they worked pretty hard to give you a great show!”

Everyone applauds, and Alison leaves the stage as the movie begins to play. In her place is Trip, standing by what’s obviously a bench that’s been modified to look like a car. Trip’s wearing a reasonable facsimile of Max’s jacket and making a surly face.

Fitz makes the least dignified noise he’s ever made in his life. Jemma and Darcy, completely unaware the other is about to do this, “whoo” at the tops of their lungs, and soon a good half of the crowd has joined in.

Straight off the bat, Max’s voice announces “my world is fire and blood,” which prompts Darcy (who is incredibly un-self-conscious about this kind of thing) to holler, “TAKE WHAT IS YOURS!” There are intermittent chuckles.

When Max bites the head off the lizard (in Trip’s case, it seems to be a gummy lizard), Jessica yells, “FUCK YOU, LIZARD!” looking extremely satisfied with herself.

“I am the one who runs from both the living and the dead,” says Max, and in the middle of his line Sif bellows “I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS,” Darcy and several others joining in.

Then the unexplained little girl appears and Darcy nods to the Helldivers and Cessily to join her in shouting, “WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?” The more people start participating the more fun it will be.

Thor, Fandral, and Hogun (all shirtless and painted white) run onstage, grab Trip, and carry him off to the other end, making vague Warboy-esque noises. Fandral then pretends to stab Trip with needles before Trip wrestles away and runs, the “Warboys” giving chase. Right into the audience.

Everyone is cheering at this point, chants of “WHO THE FUCK?” and “PARKOUR” bouncing around the theater as the boys all run. Wanda nudges Pietro and teases “You shouldn’t be cheering against your brethren,” nodding at Pietro’s shaven head.

Pietro laughs. “But it’s funny!”

When the Warboys finally corner Trip back onstage and shove a laundry hamper over Trip’s head, Wanda and Lorelei shout in unison, “FUCK YOU CHRISTIAN GREY!” The Warboys grin and fistpump, while Trip hunches his shoulders in an exaggerated display of sadness.

“Well, I guess they couldn’t exactly tie him upside down,” says MJ with a snicker.

As the film’s title card plays and segues into Furiosa’s entrance, Bobbi (with her hair braided tightly to her head and sprayed black, with makeup smeared over her forehead, with a metal contraption around her arm) strolls down the aisle and takes her place in the driver’s spot in the “car” downstage. It’s Jemma’s turn to make an undignified noise, but she’s not the only one doing so this time.

Amidst the crowd of Warboys and background actors, Drax (shirtless of course) emerges from behind the curtain holding a large wooden crate, then climbs atop it and begins to gesture along with Immortan Joe onscreen. From the rafters above, streams of water come squirting down - from Clint, who’s perched up there with a squirt gun spraying indiscriminately.

Immortan Joe addresses the crowd as “friends” and Carina and Nebula shout, “WE’RE NOT YOUR FRIENDS, DICK!” Carina looks mildly shocked at herself, but in a pleased way. On stage, Bobbi is working very hard to keep from laughing.

As Bobbi pretends to drive, Hogun does some elaborate parkour-esque movements to simulate his climbing up to the fake truck’s cab. Meanwhile, a baby doll with a beard has been pushed onto the other side of the stage, a megaphone rigged up to act as its telescope, while Thor pesters Drax on cue.

“The doll, I’m dying,” Maya wheezes.

Maria’s grinning as she replies, “It’s a nice touch.”

While Joe walks in on the empty wives’ quarters, Mike, who’s sitting near the Helldivers, leads about half of them in singing “Deceeeeeption, disgraaaaaace,” which is a reference only half of them get anyway. Laura A. sings louder than anyone, grinning (she’s dressed as Angharad) and Clint, from above, can’t help but stare at her ridiculously. Onstage, Angie (wearing old crone makeup that’s probably too good for this sort of production) meets Drax with a bright orange Nerf gun, yelling her lines out loud rather than mouthing along like everyone else.

From the back of the theater, Peggy guides everyone in shouting the graffiti when Angie isn’t talking or has paused. She’s beaming.

Skye enters on Nux’s cue, wearing a silly bald cap and a skin-tight white tank top, and fights over a plastic steering wheel with Fandral. Fitz leans over to Jemma and hisses, “Did you know she was playing Nux?”

Jemma shakes her head. “I really didn’t,” she says, eyes wide.

Onstage, there’s a bit of commotion (Hogun slithers off Bobbi’s car and back to the other Warboys) and then, suddenly, there are cars. Not actual cars, of course, but the sort meant for five year olds to pretend to drive in. The audience is in hysterics as half a dozen grown men attempt to scoot across the stage on top of the tiny cars.

“What the hell is going on?” Matt mutters to Foggy, who is crying from laughing. Matt’s mostly here to support Karen, and he’s been a little baffled from the beginning.

“It’s- it’s- tiny cars!” chokes out Foggy. “They have tiny cars!”

The tiny cars, meanwhile, are scooting around Bobbi’s stationary “car,” growling menacingly as she pretends to drive. In the audience, Pietro stands on his chair and shreds his air guitar.

Lorelei raises an eyebrow.

Jessica and Luke produce bottles of glitter spray and proceed to shower their surroundings. Hope giggles enough that Luke hands her a bottle and she sprays some of it herself.

When the polecats appear onscreen, Clint runs out holding a vaulting pole and awkwardly leaps over Bobbi’s “car.” He misses, but bounces up to vault over the other side.

“He’s gonna break something,” sighs Natasha from where she’s crouched awkwardly under the bench.

“At this point, we’re all running that risk,” Sharon murmurs before poking her head out in time with Angharad’s entrance. There’s cheers from the peanut gallery, AKA Sam, Steve, and Bucky (who are of course wearing their Halloween costumes).

Everyone keeps mugging for the audience accordingly, Drax doing his best menacing face, Skye “driving” her tiny car and gesturing at Fandral when Drax looks at her. Trip, perched on the front of her car, seems to be mostly preoccupied with not falling off while making the most irritated face possible.

When the audience starts chanting “seizure warning, seizure warning” during the storm, Raina squeezes her eyes shut and the other wives arrange themselves around her protectively. It’s not something that she asked them to do, because none of them knew about her occasional seizures since that’s not something she publicizes, but she told Kara and Kara rallied them. She finds it oddly sweet, although she hasn’t been able to say so yet.

“I hate sand!” call out Gwen and Peter in unison, grinning.

Everyone shouts along with “What a day, what a lovely day!” and “I live, I die, I live again!”, even Skye, who’s mostly kept quiet during her performance.

The stage lights dim for a moment after the storm sequence, then a spotlight comes back up on Trip, at one end of the stage, walking slowly, dragging Skye “handcuffed” to his wrist and a trash can lid that’s obviously meant to be the car door. As the movie reveals the wives, the lights come up fully to show Sharon (as described and going with her Halloween costume, Angharad), Natasha (again like her Halloween costume, Capable), Raina (her hair straightened and mussed, playing Toast), Karen (wielding obviously plastic giant pliers as the Dag), and Kara (to nobody’s surprise playing Cheedo) pantomiming the water as best they can. The audience applauds and shouts their approval.

The blocking during the Max-Furiosa fight seems to be largely improvised, and the water pistol Trip grabs has been obviously taped to the side of the bench the whole time, but people do at least applaud for Karen’s “attempts” at cutting the scarf that stands in for the chain. When Nux wakes up, he says “So shiny, so chrome,” and there’s a smattering of “wow!”

When Max shoots Angharad in the leg on screen, the water pistol makes the stage choreography significantly less dramatic, but nonetheless Darcy leads the Helldivers in shouting “BAD! BAD! BAD!” as robotically as they can manage.

Then, as Max attempts to steal the Rig, there’s more action and vague pantomiming as Bobbi and Trip have a serious conversation while he’s sitting in the “driver’s seat.” All the wives are watching intently; Kara is clinging to Karen’s arm anxiously, and Foggy could swear he sees Karen kiss the top of Kara’s head, but she’s probably just pretending to whisper something.

Everyone piles into Bobbi’s “car,” Raina Natasha Sharon Kara Karen on the back bench and Trip and Bobbi on the front one, and whenever they’re not gesturing with their hands all of the wives seem to be holding onto each other, particularly Kara and Karen. Skye’s crouched at the back of the bench, pretending to be hanging on for dear life, and when she’s supposed to fall off Trip gets up and walks around to where she is and pulls her up onto the bench.

They don’t actually quite dangle her off the bench, but her head is definitely over the edge, and when Angharad asks “Then who killed the world?” the audience shouts “MEN!” (and all of the cast members have to work hard not to grin at this). Skye does a slow backwards somersault off the bench, which is comically similar to the way Nux goes flying onscreen.

When Furiosa tells Max the start code, there’s a chorus of “up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start!” The wives slip back under the bench to hide, and Bobbi goes to meet with an actor wearing a bike helmet that has skewers glued all over it.

The Warboys appear again, scooting along in their tiny cars, and when the avalanche happens onscreen, Clint (who’s snuck into the rafters) drops a bedsheet on top of them. Drax “yells” along with Joe and Skye runs up to talk to him. Meanwhile, the lights on the other half of the stage have dimmed.

Once they’ve managed to “clear” the avalanche, the tiny cars are off again, and the lights have come back up on Bobbi’s group, who are panicking over Sharon’s fake belly. Drax and Skye’s tiny car “catches up” to Bobbi’s, and Skye jumps onto the back of the bench again, while the audience yells along with “MEDIOCRE!” Nerf bullets fly back and forth for a few minutes, and then Sharon pretends to perch on the side of the bench, Natasha’s arm around her protectively. All is going well until Angharad gets knocked off the Rig and Sharon, accordingly… flops off the benches. To their credit, Natasha and Karen manage to actually seem appropriately distressed, actually screaming in horror, and “inside” the car Raina pulls Kara to her, cradling her against her shoulder.

Sharon is thankful that she flopped with her face away from the audience, because she’s silently laughing. Hysterically. It’s not funny, but also it really is.

Drax, meanwhile, picks up Sharon like she weighs nothing (which to him, she does), and does a fairly good dramatic silent scream.

Everyone onstage mostly just acts and reacts until the cars are off stage and Bobbi “parks” hers. Then, Kara jumps off the stage and starts to run across the front carpeted area, right up close to the front row. Raina stays behind with Bobbi and Trip, but Natasha and Karen chase Kara down front and have their dramatic moment. This involves the phrase “we are not things” shouted along with the actors every time it’s said and culminates in them gently leading Kara back to the benches, touching sweetly.

There’s fake driving and more sweet touching for a while, and when Natasha climbs out to investigate instead of lying down next to Skye they both stand up on a box behind the benches so everyone can still see them. When Nux points to Larry and Barry, Skye slips one of her tank top straps down and indicates where she’s drawn smiley faces in Sharpie. Natasha reaches out to touch Skye’s face, and it’s honestly sweet.

Fitz nudges Jemma. “Jealous?” he asks, smirking.

“Shut up and watch the film,” Jemma mumbles, making a face.

For the nighttime scenes, the stage is lit with a blue filter. “Everything is blue,” MJ sings loudly. All of the girls, though devoid of Sharon, are once again snuggling, resting against each other’s shoulders, and Karen is drawing circles on Kara’s skin.

Then the car “stalls,” and everyone stands about while Bobbi, Skye and Trip do repairs (Clint has reappeared as the tree). The wives mill about watching the “horizon,” and after a moment of whispering Kara definitely turns to kiss Karen on the mouth. Foggy notices this, but decides he must be imagining things due to the weird lighting.

Meanwhile, Drax, Thor, and the other Warboys have reappeared, along with Dum Dum. Hogun “operates” on Sharon, holding up the bearded baby doll (to inappropriate snickers), and Thor reacts by chewing scenery as necessary. Dum Dum heads off in his tiny car with a giant plastic children’s flashlight strapped to the front.

This draws the others’ attention, and as Karen goes wide-eyed and everyone else begins to panic and take up arms, Skye takes the driver’s seat. “Bullets” are exchanged. Dum-Dum makes an agonizing noise. Skye hops out to help Trip leverage the “car” with the “tree” and after the Bullet Farmer shouts “I am the scales of justice!” the entire audience, every last one of them, shouts back “DO YOU BLEED? YOU WILL.” Dum-Dum hides his chuckling in a warrior growl as he begins to “blindly” fire.

They get back in the car and “drive” off, and the lighting returns to daylight. Off at the other end of the stage, Alison perches at the top of a stage ladder, wearing a nude bikini. Bobbi gets out and calls to her, and she yelps (really yelps, Alison moonlights as a moderately successful recording artist), bringing the entire rest of the roller derby team to the stage. They fuss over Bobbi and the wives accordingly. Ororo, done up in old woman makeup similar to Angie’s, inspects Karen’s teeth with a smirk.

When the dramatic reveal is given and Bobbi goes to yell, the more shameless members of the audience shout “DO NOT WANT!” as loud as they can. “I mean, it isn’t really funny, but also…” Carina frowns.

“No, it is,” snickers Nebula.

There are some stray “WHO THE FUCK IS THAT” chants at the little girl’s flash appearances, and pretty soon they’re at the climactic car chase, or as climactic as it can be with a bench and tiny cars. When Seed Granny and Furiosa are injured, more shouts of “BAD! BAD! BAD!” are heard, but mostly the audience devolves into cheering like they’re at some sort of sporting event. The roller derby girls have laced skates on and are skating around the toddler cars, firing pretend weapons.

“What’s going on?” Matt asks, completely perplexed.

“Last heroic dash to the end,” says Foggy with a grin.

Foggy is busy enough saying this that he almost doesn’t notice when Kara and Karen kiss after Kara pulls Karen onto the “other car” (really it’s a very large little red wagon).

The fight between Furiosa and Joe is as dramatic as it can be while standing over a tiny car, and while of course Drax isn’t actually hurt, he’s got a packet of food dye in his mouth that he bites into when he “dies,” which sprays everywhere. Meanwhile, Thor “jumps” off his car onto the bench with Skye, and pantomimes ripping out the car part and holding it over his head. Skye and Natasha make eye contact and Skye points at her before Clint drops another (yellow) bedsheet over her and Thor.

During the scene where Furiosa nearly dies, everyone is respectfully quiet, even when the needle is overlarge and obviously plastic. They don’t make a peep again until the rig arrives at the Citadel and Joe’s body is revealed, at which point Darcy leads everyone in singing “Ding-dong, the witch is dead!”

The cast invites the people in the first couple rows onstage at the end, and though there is a fair amount of nervous giggling most accept the offer. Trip, meanwhile, files through the crowd and down one of the aisles, exchanging a nod with Bobbi over the very soft roar.

As the credits start, the first row sits back down one-by-one, most of them giggling (Bobbi grabs Jemma and kisses her first) and all of the crowd feeling buzzed and delighted. The sound on the movie fades, and then it’s time for curtain call.

First out are the roller derby girls, all skating back out, forming a line, and bowing one by one. Trish (who recently joined the team) has given up playing tough and is grinning from ear to ear; Hope and Gamora both look smug; Ororo looks regal as ever even with her age makeup still on; Alison is positively basking in the audience’s applause; and Tabby is waving to friends in the audience.

Angie, Dum Dum, and several actors who were extras (mostly _Rocky Horror_ shadowcast members) come out to take their bow, Angie winking at Peggy. Then Clint polevaults onto the stage (almost landing without tripping) with a sheet tied around his waist, to take his bow.

Next, the four lead Warboys come forward, Thor, Fandral, and Hogun comically dwarfing Skye and, after their initial bow, each takes turns bowing individually and then all three back off to give Skye the spotlight for a moment. Jemma hollers especially loud for her girlfriend, of course, but there’s a good amount of applause.

Drax gets his own curtain call, raising his arms for the applause (and the good-natured booing). He’s still covered in the food dye.

Kara comes out next, grinning bashfully. There are a lot of cheers for her, which she isn’t expecting, but Matt and Foggy are clearly the loudest of them all, and the magnitude of this makes her tear up, in a very good way. Then Karen comes out and the boys keep shouting, which keeps up until she steps back to meet Kara in the middle of the stage and unmistakably plants one on her, eliciting high-pitched whistles from Rogue that make Kara blush and Karen burst out laughing.

Foggy’s so shocked he stops clapping, which makes Matt ask, “Were we supposed to stop clapping?”

“No, it’s just…” Foggy tilts his head. “Karen just kissed Kara? Like on the lips?”

“Oh, is that all.”

Raina, smiling much more than she did throughout the performance, comes out next. After her bow but before she goes to join Karen and Kara, she blows Lorelei a showy kiss. Loki, across the theater, notices this and sulks.

Natasha’s next, grinning to her boys and saluting. Sam and Bucky whistle and Steve cheers, and Melinda gives one loud appreciative shout before reverting back to her typical smirk.

Sharon is the last of the wives to enter, beaming proudly, and after her solo bow she motions the other four up to join hands and do one last bow together. Raina kisses Kara’s cheek and Karen kisses Kara on the mouth (again), Sharon bumps Natasha’s hip affectionately.

Bobbi and Trip come out together, bow together, then each steps back to allow the other their solo bows. Jemma and Fitz practically scream their approval, clapping frantically. Then Bobbi and Trip wave the rest of the cast forward and they bow as a group three times before the lights go up and they scurry backstage.

They all emerge in the lobby a few minutes later, where their various people are waiting. Laura, holding her fake pregnant belly in one hand (it got really sweaty), waves shyly at Clint when she sees him come out. “You really did play all the things,” she giggles.

Clint swallows. He doesn’t want to be weird or creepy but she looks...amazing. “I did,” he says, grinning and running a hand through his hair. “I just learned how to pole vault like two weeks ago.”

“I could kinda tell,” she teases.

Raina and Kara, hand-in-hand, go to say hello to Lorelei and the twins. “Well, don’t you look cute,” Lorelei drawls, leaning forward to kiss Raina’s lips and then Kara’s cheek.

“Very nicely done,” says Wanda with a nod and smile.

Kara gets yet another kiss on the cheek when Karen drags Matt and Foggy over by the hands, with Akela trailing. “You were fuckin’ amazing,” she says.

“You, too,” Kara replies, grinning. “Hey, guys.”

“From what I could hear, you were good,” says Matt with a self-deprecating smirk. “Foggy enjoyed your performance.”

Foggy elbows him but nods. “Yeah,” he says, still looking between Karen and Kara, slightly perplexed.

Skye and Trip and Bobbi come over to FitzSimmons together, Skye booking it for Jemma calling “My turn for kisses!” Fitz rolls his eyes but seems perfectly happy when Trip ambles over to kiss him too.

“What a bunch of nerds,” Bobbi says fondly, kissing Jemma and then Skye once there’s room.

Sharon and Natasha, meanwhile, are being absolutely fussed over by their boys. Steve strokes Sharon’s hair before pulling her in for a kiss, while Natasha’s getting sandwiched in a hug by Sam and Bucky. “You guys kicked ass,” says Sam fondly.

“Oh look,” says Natasha, glancing over to where Peggy and Angie are also kissing, “seems like Peggy’s gonna get some tonight.”

“I don’t want to think about that!” Sharon yelps.

“I hope she does and it’s very nice,” Steve says judiciously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is evidence, although difficult to verify, that there is a small kiss between Dag and Cheedo in the background of one shot. Since we assume Karen's lines of affection blur with her close friends, we naturally took this to its logical conclusion.


	85. I like the way most of the days look exactly the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various people and groups go about their days.

“Jane.”

Jane snuggles into her pillow, sleepily defiant, before she gives into her practical impulse to wake up. “What’s going on?”

Thor is beaming at her, like a giant handsome smiling sun. “My love, I have prepared food to ready us for the day.”

“You know it’s not a special day? Just… a day,” she says, because she’s still getting used to this.

“I am aware,” he says with a laugh, “but every day is special when I am with you.”

“I seriously won the boyfriend lottery,” she giggles, rolling out of bed and promptly stumbling into his arms.

He takes the opportunity to lift her up for a kiss. “As did I with you, Jane.”

“We’re so gross,” Jane laughs, squeezing his hand.

“That we are,” Thor agrees. “Shall we partake of sustenance?”

“It’s so cute when you’re overly verbose,” she teases, nodding.

“Why, thank you. It is a habit,” he admits, leading her to the kitchen.

“It’s a nice habit,” she promises. “It sets you apart.”

Thor smiles again. “I am honored that you think so. Come, let us eat.”

Thor’s made a gigantic stack of pancakes, with bowls of fruit for both of them. “Have as much as you desire,” he says. “If you would like more, I will make more.”

“Are you kidding?” Jane asks, grinning. “This is great.”

“Excellent!” Thor takes a good third of the stack for himself.

Jane takes a much daintier helping to start, pouring herself some coffee as she asks, “Any fun plans today?”

“As you know, I must go to work this afternoon, but Mother wanted to meet me for the midday meal first.”

“Sweet,” she says. “Your mom is really sweet. And you’re sweet in association. Also by yourself.” She smirks bashfully.

Thor chuckles. “Thank you. And you, your plans?”

“Class and work and homework,” Jane declares. “Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.”

“The ordinary can be delightful,” says Thor. “No day is exactly like another.”

 

* * *

 

“How are you so chipper?” Helen groans as she enters the science store.

Behind the counter, Jane shrugs. “Lots of coffee,” she says. “I actually had a balanced breakfast, too.”

“There’s no need to brag,” Helen retorts, although she’s smirking. “Courtesy of your man friend, I take it?”

“Yes, but I won’t brag,” Jane replies cheerfully. “You look like you barely got any sleep at all, though, what happened?”

“I had a shift at the clinic, like I do every Tuesday night,” Helen begins, her voice carrying from the break room as she drops off her purse and returns to clock in at the computer, “and some young man came in with…” She makes a disgusted face. “Something stuck in his ass.”

“Oh my god, what?” Jane exclaims.

“In his ass,” Helen repeats. “Luckily, I didn’t have to hear his rationale, but I suppose it must have been a sex thing. The object certainly was.”

“You can really stop there,” Jane says, holding her hands up in defense. “Considering my luck, I’ll still manage to hear about it from Darcy or something, but I’d like to put that off as long as possible.”

Professor Wendy Ross wanders into the store, waving at Jane and Helen before going over to glance at the bookshelf.

“Dr. Ross!” Jane exclaims. “Hello!”

“Good afternoon,” Helen says. “May I ask a medical question?”

“Certainly.”

“What, in your opinion, is the best way to handle a man who has something stuck in his bottom?” Helen asks sweetly.

Wendy snorts. “Please tell me this isn’t from personal experience. I don’t need to know about your sexual partners.”

“Ew,” Helen deadpans. “I assure you, I was not involved except for from a clinical standpoint.”

“Well, first of all, that sounds like something that would be far too advanced for a campus clinic, so I hope someone referred him to an actual hospital.”

“Oh, yes,” Helen nods. “I was just wondering for future reference. It’s not exactly something that’s in every textbook.”

“Would you believe, it’s never come up in my life?” Wendy asks dryly, smirking. “I’ll ask around and let you know.”

“Thank you,” Helen says. “I just figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. And I know how foolish people can be doing… things like that, so it seems wise to know, now that I’ve been alerted to the possibility.”

Wendy nods. “You learn, going into healthcare, that anything a person _can_ do to themselves, they will do, and in the most ridiculous way possible.”

“The more I learn about medicine the more I feel validated in my choice to study the universe,” Jane declares.

Chuckling, Wendy replies, “Astronomy is complicated in a different way than humanity, I’m sure.”

“Complicated but entirely less baffling,” Jane agrees. “And I never look at the stars and go ‘I wish I didn’t know that about you.’”

“Were you looking for something?” Helen asks Wendy.

“Yes, actually. I managed to drop my model of the human brain on my coffee table and crack it, and since it’s _not_ meant to be an illustration of a TBI, I need another.”

“Oh!” Helen exclaims, giggling behind her hand as she bustles over to the anatomical models. “Well, all of our models are kept over here. Please, browse around for which one you’d like, and if you have any questions…”

“I’ll ask one of you,” replies Wendy with a smile. “Thanks, Helen.”

Helen beams. “Of course. And keep in mind you’ll get the educator discount, too.”

Jane tilts her head, mouthing “We have an educator discount?” Helen just shrugs. It seems right.

“I didn’t know there was one,” says Wendy, in the kind of voice that says she knows what’s up. Then she adds lightly, “Keep in mind I still won’t accept late papers.”

“I promise that was not my intention,” Helen says. “I just think it right to show you respect.”

“Oh, it’s appreciated. Just my standard disclaimer. I never worry about you two turning in papers late.” Wendy picks up one of the models. “I’ll take this one, I think.”

“Wonderful,” Jane says, and she’s smiling. “I’ll ring you up right over here.”

 

* * *

 

Moira’s already been seated when Wendy comes in. “Sorry, I had an errand,” she says as she puts her purse down.

“Perfectly fine,” Moira replies, waving her hand. “I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

“Well, good.” The waiter comes over and after he goes to fetch their drinks, Wendy says, “I went to buy a new model and ran into two of my students working there, which is always funny.”

“That’s sweet,” Moira coos. “If they’re anything like any of your students I’ve met before, I’m sure they were completely starstruck.”

Wendy laughs. “Yes, they’re two of my brightest, always trying to impress me. They usually succeed. Today they gave me a discount that definitely wasn’t standard, but they were so earnest I didn’t have the heart to say no.”

“Considering the budget you operate on, I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to even if you did have the heart,” Moira says, teasing but also very much not. “Honestly, I think that’s one of my favorite things about private health care. Not having to worry about going out of pocket for things.”

“Sounds nice,” says Wendy with a wry smile.

Once their drinks have arrived and food is ordered, Moira asks, “So when are you and Joan going to be dropping the cat off?”

“Mm, probably Friday evening, if that’s all right. We have a flight at some godawful time on Saturday.”

“Friday is just fine,” Moira assures. “I wasn’t planning on being anywhere.”

“Thank you again,” says Wendy. “Bill’s a sweet cat, mostly, he just can’t be left alone for too long. I appreciate you taking care of him while we’re gone.”

“Oh, I don’t mind in the slightest,” Moira says. “Besides, it’ll be good for Kevin to have some company.”

Wendy grins. “Has he had much experience with other cats?”

Moira shakes her head. “Not since he was very little,” she says. “He’s not terribly fussy, but he should learn how to share attention.”

“Well, he’ll get it. Bill’s mostly friendly, but keep an eye on him just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas.”

“Ideas?”

“He’ll do annoying shit if he gets too bored. He might annoy Kevin if Kevin’s not interested in playing. Oh, and sometimes he thinks he’s an attack dog, might want to keep an eye out if you have guests over.”

“Maybe that will motivate Kevin to get off his arse a bit more,” Moira chuckles. “He’s not _lazy_ , but playing is rarely his idea. And as for the last, luckily I’m not much one for having visitors.”

“We learned that the hard way,” chuckles Wendy. “Joan’s mother screamed like the devil when he jumped at her the first time. But you should be fine.”

“I’m sure the screaming didn’t help, either,” Moira muses.

“No, that did escalate the situation a bit,” Wendy agrees. “That was awhile ago, though. He doesn’t mind her now.”

“Well, should there be a situation I promise not to escalate it,” Moira declares.

“Sounds good. If you really need to reach me, I’ll have my phone.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Moira says. “You two enjoy the beach, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Wendy nods. “We will. We haven’t had the time or money for a vacation since the honeymoon, so this’ll be nice.”

“I do envy you the built-in time off,” Moira says.

“I mean, I’ll be taking some papers along to grade,” replies Wendy with a half-hearted laugh. “But I’ve promised Joan I’ll keep it to two hours a day maximum.”

“Still, it’s something,” Moira replies, smirking. “I hope you don’t take up that full two hours every day, it’d be a pity to miss the fun. Whatever the fun may be.”

“Oh, believe me, I’d rather not. Or maybe I will the first few days and finish it all, I’m not sure yet.” Wendy shrugs. “Anyway. I know you can’t give work details, patient confidentiality and all, but how’s that going?”

“Pretty well, all considered,” Moira says. “There’ve been no more than the usual life dramatics, and that’s a sort of calm all of my patients deserve.”

“That’s wonderful. And that complicated situation you mentioned before, that’s turned out okay?”

Moira nods. “All things considered, she’s doing remarkably well. There’s quite a support network around her, it’s impressive.”

“I’m very glad. Those kinds of situations can turn out so terribly.” Wendy shakes her head. “It’s always a relief when they don’t.”

 

* * *

 

When Moira arrives at her office, all six girls are sitting in the waiting room, half of them looking expectantly at the door. Carina lights up immediately, waving, “Hi! Are you having a nice afternoon?”

Moira chuckles. “Fairly nice, at any rate. Yourself?”

“Oh, y’know,” Carina says, “same old same old. But that’s better than the alternative.”

Rogue snorts. “Yeah, no kiddin.’”

“Well, come on in,” Moira says as she unlocks the door. “Is everyone else doing well?”

“I, uh, I have puppy pictures, if anyone wants to see,” Kara offers shyly.

“Yes!” says MJ. “How are you doing with her?”

“ _So_ well,” Kara exclaims, pulling out her phone to pass around. “She’s so sweet and she likes to snuggle a lot. That’s really nice at the end of a long day.”

“Unconditional affection can be very soothing,” Moira agrees.

“Have you taught her any tricks?” Laura asks. “I know from what I have read and seen in movies that many dogs know tricks.”

“Not really any yet, but she’s three, so she already knew really basic stuff like shaking paws,” Kara shrugs. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to train her. I don’t think I’d be very good at that.”

Nebula nods. “Seems like kind of a pain in the ass.”

“I’m just not particularly authoritative, is all,” Kara says sheepishly. “But she’s good at listening, mostly. Except when she doesn’t want to leave me alone, but that’s cute. She’s needy in a really acceptable way.”

Carina smirks. “That line is an important one.”

MJ chuckles and nods. “Glad she’s working out for you.”

“She is,” Kara says. “And… I dunno. Work is good, people… stuff is good.”

“I hope someone got a video tape of _Fury Road_ ,” Carina chimes in. “Kara was amazing.”

Kara blushes. “I had a lot of fun,” she says.

“What’s this?” Moira asks.

“Oh, some of the mall people and their friends, they, they got - you know how people will do _Rocky Horror_ in front of _Rocky Horror_?” Kara begins. “They - we - put together one for _Mad Max: Fury Road_ that went up last weekend. Kind of a one-night thing, and it was probably pretty illegal, but it was really fun and it’s not like we were charging any money or anything.”

“She was kickass,” agrees Nebula. “Played one of the Wives.”

Moira nods understandingly. “I’m sure it was very nice,” she says. “I’d like to see it if an illegal recording pops up.”

“Okay,” Kara giggles. “Ka - uh, my coworker, she was one of them with me, we were the ones that are probably in love, and my, uh, my friend I’ve been getting close with, who I’ve kinda mentioned, she was in it too. I love everyone in the cast, honestly.”

“That one dude who works at A&F and was one of the Warboys?” Nebula asks derisively.

“Okay, maybe I don’t love him,” Kara giggles. “But, uh, our… all the wives and Furiosa and Max and Nux and the other couple of Warboys and our Joe and, hell, I don’t know the adults who were in it very well but they seem cool, and the derby girls, ‘course.”

“Are you still thinking about trying out for the team?” Moira prompts.

“Yeah, probably,” Kara says. “Soon. It’ll be a couple months before they have tryouts again, but I’m really interested.”

“Good,” Moira replies. “Keep us updated, all right?” She nods in a changing-the-subject sort of way before she asks, “How is everyone else doing?”

“I heard from my sister last week,” offers MJ. “She says she and Mom are doing okay. They’re both working, so that’s good.”

“Yes,” Moira says. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I’m not at home a lot because Gamora and her boyfriend fuck all the time,” grumbles Nebula. “They’re loud. So I just go over to her place.” She runs her hand down Carina’s arm.

“And I’m glad to have her there,” Carina says, smiling. “I’m happy for Gamora and her boyfriend, but that kind of loudness can be, uh, a little much.”

Rogue laughs. “I’m glad the basement’s soundproof, so I never have to hear Mama Irene and Mama Raven at all.”

“That’s always so weird,” Kara agrees.

“Mothers can be very strange,” says Laura, nodding seriously. “A woman claiming to be my mother’s sister emailed me the other day. She sent me some pictures of the two of them at varying stages of growing up, and a picture of her driver’s license with the identifying information besides her full name removed. She says that when my mother died, she tried to find me, but Logan’s erratic travel patterns made this very difficult. Finally she hired a private investigator and found my current email address. It was somewhat unexpected.”

“Aw,” Carina coos. “What’re you planning on…?”

“I’m not sure yet. Her name is Debbie and she has a daughter about my age. Her name is Megan and from the pictures Debbie sent, it seems as if she and I wear similar outfits.”

“Would you be interested in meeting them?” Moira asks. “I know you don’t really have any other connections to family.”

Laura tilts her head. “Maybe. It might be interesting. Debbie says she and my mother used to be close, so maybe she would want to talk about her too.”

“I bet,” replies MJ. “Biofamily can suck sometimes, but sometimes they’re pretty cool. Where do they live, did she say?”

“San Fransokyo. She says they have the money to fly me there, if I’d like to visit. Traveling might be nice. I mentioned this to Logan and he told me ‘have fun.’ Or grunted it.”

That makes Moira laugh. “I’m sure it would be a very interesting experience. You’ve never been out there before, have you?”

“No. We drove through northern California once, but we didn’t stay long. He said it was too sunny.”

“I hear San Fransokyo has, has really nice botanical gardens,” Kara says. “Or at least that’s what S - someone whose opinion I trust told me. It’s apparently a very pretty city.”

Nebula smirks like she knows what Kara means, and then says, “Hey, if you think they might not suck, go for it.”

“Which is to say,” Moira amends, “that if it seems like it might be beneficial for you, I’d encourage taking the trip.”

“I’m considering it,” says Laura. “Remy told me to ‘trust my heart,’ which I am still learning how to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wendy is very happy here with her wife and cat. They're technically OCs, but are significantly influenced by another piece of Robin Weigert's filmography.


	86. silly me, look what I did again, I found what I want is what I cannot have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara drops off her dog at the vet, but things do not go as she anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a spoiler, but we didn't want anyone to worry unduly: the dog will not die.

“She’s very well-behaved,” the nurse remarks, offering Autumn her hand to sniff.

Kara beams. “Isn’t she? Sometimes she’s a little jumpy, but mostly she’s very polite and sweet. Kind of a perfect dog. I bet everyone says that, don’t they?”

“Everyone thinks their dog is the best, and everyone is right,” replies the woman with a wry smile. “Except for the ones who aren’t, but I’m not gonna tell ‘em, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Kara agrees. “And hey, their dog could just be having a day. It happens.”

The nurse shrugs. “C’mon, Autumn, time for blood work,” she hums, taking Autumn’s leash and leading her toward one of the examination rooms. Autumn’s tail is waving back and forth and she’s looking around lazily, seeming at ease.

Kara starts to follow, but her phone buzzes urgently. “Crap,” she says after a moment. “My boss is trying to keep the office afloat, and I quote, ‘despite unrealistic amounts of male incompetence.’ Would it be okay if I dashed out and came back for her in a few hours?”

“Oh, that’s fine, honey. We’ll take good care of her.”

“Thank you,” Kara exclaims, getting down to give Autumn a kiss. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Autumn noses at her face before licking her a few times, tail wagging.

 

* * *

 

_> >It’s the clinic on 3rd and Bendis. _

_> >Great work. How long do you think I have?_

_> >She was heading toward the mall, so probably at least an hour or two. Want me to head over and keep an eye on her?_

_> >No, we don’t want her getting suspicious. Just lay low and wait for me._

 

* * *

 

“Oh thank heavens,” is the first thing Irani says when Kara walks in the door. “I was about to have an aneurysm, I swear.”

Kara makes a face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, the usual,” Karen says with a smirk, barely looking up from the computer.

“Incompetence abounds,” sighs Irani. “I told Garthan to call the electrical inspector and schedule an appointment hours ago, and I returned to find him fucking around on his plane websites instead. Rhomann and Karen have been tied up with other things all day. I don’t suppose…”

“Of course,” Kara says. “That is, I’ll make the call. You or Karen should be the one to yell at him later, though.” She smiles self-deprecatingly.

“Of course. He’ll be getting an earful later.” Irani rolls her eyes. “Thank you for being competent.”

“You’re welcome,” Kara says. “Is there anything I should know before I get in touch?”

“We need to have the inspection before the fourth of April. I’ll need to be here, and you know my schedule. I trust you to sort it out.”

Kara nods. “I’ll figure something out. Promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Enjoying your grease, Buck?” teases Sam as Bucky wolfs down one of his slices of pizza.

“I am,” retorts Bucky cheerfully. “And your rabbit food, how’s that?”

“Delicious.” Sam makes exaggerated _mmm_ sounds over his salad.

“They’re always like this,” Steve tells Jessica and Luke. “It’s sort of ridiculous.”

Luke chuckles. “I mean, you can see which side I come down on,” he says, nodding at his own pizza.

“I prefer liquid diets,” quips Jess.

“Now you’re talking,” jokes Bucky.

“I sort of just meant the banter,” Steve says, “in which case you’re unfazed.”

Jessica nods. “The opposite of fazed.”

“Probably for the best,” Steve agrees wryly. “How have you been settling in?”

“Pretty well, all things considered,” says Luke with a grin. “Trish keeps trying to get us to decorate more.”

Snorting, Jessica adds, “It’s dumb. Who needs shit on their walls anyway?”

Sam shrugs. “I mean, I like it, but Nat and Bucky barely own any of that.”

“I don’t get the point,” says Bucky. “This one, though-” he nudges Steve “-he loves that stuff.”

Steve pouts. “I’m an artist,” he says, mock-defensively. “I appreciate _art_.”

“Yeah, we know,” replies Sam fondly, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Gross,” says Jessica, rolling her eyes and smirking.

“Hard-earned grossness, I’d say,” Steve shrugs.

 

* * *

 

“Hey there. I’m here to pick up, um, Autumn?”

The receptionist flicks through her appointment binder, then raises an eyebrow. “Kara Palamas?”

He laughs. “No, no, I’m just her boyfriend. She’s still at work, she asked me to come pick her up.” He pulls a picture out of his wallet where he has his arms around her. She’s smiling, or at least that’s what it looks like. “I know it’s weird,” he adds, almost apologetically.

Looking a bit uncertain, the receptionist says, “I’m not allowed to release animals to anyone who isn’t listed in the animal’s file…”

“I have a note from her, if that helps at all.” He produces the note, which has a signature identical to the one on the paperwork she’d filled out earlier.

“Sir, I don’t believe that’s satisfactory, I’m really going to need some more concrete-”

“Look,” he says impatiently. “Is there someone else I can talk to, your manager, maybe? I’m just trying to do a favor for my girlfriend and I would hate to make things difficult for you just because you’re making it difficult for me…”

“Policy dictates-”

“Fuck policy!” he barks, then takes a deep breath. “Like I said, I’m not interested in making things difficult for you. But I am willing to escalate this, and I don’t think that will end well for you.”

Not five minutes later, he’s headed out the door with Autumn trotting alongside him, with the frazzled receptionist staring after him and the nurse calling, “Have a good day, Mr. Ward!”

 

* * *

 

To make up for calling her in at lunch, Irani lets Kara off early to go pick Autumn up, and really, Kara’s glad (Garthan needs to be yelled at, but she doesn’t much want to be around to hear the yelling). She’s smiling as she drives over, unreasonably excited about the thought of puppy cuddles in her near future.

“Hey, is Autumn ready yet?” she calls as she enters the office.

The receptionist blinks. “Ms. Palamas?”

“Yeah?” Kara asks, mostly because she’s not sure what else to do.

“Er...your dog’s already been picked up, about two hours ago. Your boyfriend said you sent him?”

Immediately Kara’s heart starts thudding in her chest. She checks her phone to see if maybe she just missed a message from Matt or Foggy, on Karen’s behalf maybe, to make her day easier - of course they’re not her _boyfriends_ , but they’re boys and they’re her friends, it’d be an easy mistake to make. Nothing. Of course there’s nothing, why would there be anything, Karen would never do that without asking her, and neither would the boys.

The word “boyfriend” rattles around in her brain for a moment, sounding more and more ominous. Why would… how would…

“Oh dear,” says the receptionist, furrowing her brow. “He had a note with your signature, it was a little unorthodox, but he was very insistent and in fact, he got quite rude-”

“This might be a silly question,” Kara says, her voice wobbling, “but what did he look like?”

“He was handsome, I suppose? Had nice cheekbones, dark hair and a beard. But he was so forceful about everything, it was really offputting.”

Kara swallows heavily. “Okay,” she forces out before she turns on her heel and runs back to her car to cry in peace.

 

* * *

 

_> >Hey, everything go okay at the vet?_

_> >I mean, I guess Autumn’s fine, they let her go, but they, my “boyfriend” picked her up on my behalf, and I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do now._

_> >Shit. Hon, you need to drive back here, okay? We can talk this through but I don’t plan on leaving your side._

_> >Okay. I won’t be long._

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, it’s not fifteen minutes later when Kara lets herself back into the admin office. Technically, they’re closed, but Karen is waiting on the sofa in the front, two coffee cups in front of her. “Come here,” she whispers.

All at once, Kara drops her purse and collapses onto the sofa, into Karen’s arms. “They said he had my signature, that he’d gotten permission,” she sobs. “He was rude to them, but I guess he wasn’t ‘call the cops’ rude, not that calling the cops would have mattered because his Nazi fuck friends would probably have _encouraged him_ to - to -”

Karen frowns, petting Kara’s hair gently. “Well, we’re gonna figure out where he took Autumn and get her back, okay?”

“How do we know he _took_ her anywhere?” Kara cries. “He could have just…” Almost frantically, she says, “I know he’s done that before. His dog Buddy, he’d never say what happened to him but I know that he killed him, or at least one of his friends did - and I overheard Skye and Fitz telling Darcy once that they heard Clint say that the Hydra guys do that, they -”

“I don’t think Grant fuckin’ Ward would make it that simple,” Karen mutters. “But that’s good for us, ‘cause it gives us more time to find her.”

Kara nods. “I guess,” she says, even though she doesn’t sound like she believes it. “God, I’m so dumb for thinking he’d let me go.”

“Shush,” Karen hisses, still stroking Kara’s hair. “You’re not dumb. He’s just a criminal jackass.”

“I shouldn’t have even tried to move on,” Kara frets, sounding like she didn’t even hear Karen. “All I ended up doing is causing more pain.”

“You didn’t cause anything,” Karen says, ducking to kiss the top of Kara’s head. “You’re fine. You’re wonderful. And we’re gonna stop that guy. No matter what.”

 

* * *

 

Jemma is going to be off in ten minutes, soon enough that she _could_ just go work on things at the back of the shop and let one of the others handle the front counter, but when they get close enough she sees that it’s Karen and Kara approaching, and Kara looks as if she’s been crying, so she makes her way to the register fast as she can.

“Is this the sort of problem that ice cream will fix?” she asks gently.

Karen looks expectantly at Kara, and Kara tries to laugh. “I’m afraid it’s not,” she sighs, “but I’m going to try anyway. Something that tastes like cake, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Make that two,” Karen says.

“All right,” Jemma agrees, immediately going for the birthday cake ice cream and then starting to mix in small amounts of yellow cake and rainbow sprinkles. “Ah, would it be too forward of me to ask what’s going on? I don’t want to pry, but if there’s any way I can help…”

This time, Kara glances at Karen, who suggests, “You go find a table, okay?” Kara nods and heads toward the center of the food court and Karen waits till she’s distanced enough to explain, very softly, “Apparently that _fuckface_ ex of hers actually sunk so low as to kidnap her dog from the vet’s office this afternoon.”

Jemma gasps.

“I guess you’ve heard that rumor too?”

“Yes,” Jemma squeaks. “How… how would he have managed…”

Karen shrugs. “How do those shitheads manage anything? Slick lies an’ rudeness.” She gets her wallet out and pays for the ice creams, sighing, “You should let your people know what’s goin’ on. We’re gonna try to figure out a plan, but if… well, we’re probably gonna need help.”

“Say no more,” Jemma says with a nod. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something to offer, all right?”

“All right,” Karen agrees. “Thanks, Jemma.” She turns to find Kara, only to see she’s already been found by Bucky and Steve and Sam and Jessica and Luke. It’s a relief, in a way. She hurries over and pulls a chair up to the table, next to where Kara is leaning against Bucky getting hugs. “Ice cream’s here,” she announces. “Jemma’s gonna talk to hers and see if there’s anything they can do to help out.”

“Cool,” Kara says shakily.

Bucky’s rubbing her back. “We’re going to kick his ass and get her back,” he says.

“With the priority being thing number two,” Sam says, giving Steve and Bucky a pointed look.

“Oh, I agree,” Steve says, “but I’m not going to hold back if kicking asses becomes part of it.”

Jessica’s nodding, eyes dark. “I’d be up for giving him an up close look at his own insides.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s him,” Kara agrees.

“You used to run with them, right?” Luke asks Bucky. “You know where he might’ve gone?”

Bucky laughs humorlessly. “Sort of, yeah. I know there was this one secret site they’d use for most of their communications - like the secret internet but probably less secure. They’re not great with technology.”

“Would they still be using it?” Steve asks with a frown. “I mean, it’s been a while.”

“Can’t hurt to look,” replies Bucky with a shrug. “They definitely deleted my account though.”

“Couldn’t someone, like, hack in?” Karen asks. “I mean, that’s sorta Skye’s thing, isn’t it?”

“Could ask her,” says Sam. “Hey, Jemma?”

Jemma, who by now is clocked out and heading for the exit, hurries over. “What is it?”

“Skye could hack into a secret Hydra website, right?”

“Oh, of course,” Jemma says, “just point her in the right direction and - why? Is there one that might help with…?”

“Might be,” chimes in Bucky. “Here, lemme get you my number so she can text me about it later, if she wants to.”

“She’ll want to,” Jemma promises, pulling out her phone. “Anything she - we - can do to…”

Steve nods. “We’ll take care of it, but we’ll let you know,” he says as phone numbers are silently exchanged. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Of course,” Jemma says again, waving shyly. “Have… have a better night.” And she hurries off.

“I’ve heard Maria mention a Sergeant Clemons, on the force,” Sam adds. “She says he’s one of the good ones, for sure. Maybe someone should give him a call, let him know what’s up.”

“It’ll be good to have at least someone on our side, for sure,” Steve says. “I wouldn’t want to get him involved without concrete evidence, though. We don’t know how much the cops who _are_ Hydra do or don’t know.”

Jessica nods. “Plus, we can’t beat his ass if the cops are there while we catch him. I think they frown on that.”

Kara snickers, although it doesn’t sound particularly cheery. “If this guy is one of the good ones, I’m sure he wouldn’t bring gang member cops along with him knowingly, but I can’t imagine it’d go over well if someone was a surprise. Those Hydra guys are… they’re not subtle and they’re not calm.”

Bucky cocks his head, like he’s thinking. “Hey, Sam, Steve, you remember when that weird guy was behind us in line when we were buying Kara’s lamp?”

“Maybe, why?”

“Tasha asked me if I knew him from...before, and I didn’t, but I didn’t think that maybe he was tailing us for some reason.”

“You think maybe he had eyes on her, too?” Luke asks, frowning.

“Wait,” Karen says, “where’d you guys buy the lamp again?”

“Target,” Steve says, a bit perplexed.

“Shit,” Karen mutters. “We were there getting last-minute stuff and there was this really squirrely looking blond kid behind us, just kind of staring. I thought he was just bein’ awkward, but…”

“Ew,” says Jessica, curling her lip. “This fucker just takes the cake for Dickweasel of the Year, huh?”

“You think it coulda been the same kid?” Karen presses.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Steve sighs.

“God,” Kara groans. “I was stupid to think I could try to… that anything I touched wouldn’t turn to shit.”

“Not true,” says Bucky quickly. “That’s what he wants you to think.”

“It’s working,” Kara mumbles. “If anything happens to that dog, I don’t know _what_ I’ll do.”

“Nothing will happen to her,” says Jessica. “Whatever he does to her, I’ll do to him.”

Kara sighs and rests her head on Bucky’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says. “I mean, I don’t expect… but thank you.”

“Hey, so - I already talked to the boys, and if it’s cool with you I can crash at your place for a few nights?” Karen offers. “As long as you want.”

“Yeah,” Kara says quickly. “I don’t really wanna be alone.”

“I know,” Karen says.

“If you want, I can drive by your place after I get off work and check on things,” offers Luke. “Won’t be till pretty late, but these bastards might be on a shift or something, if they’re hanging around.”

Kara shudders, but she nods. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” she mutters. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” says Luke with a tiny smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No really, we wouldn't kill a dog. We keep our promises. Unlike some people.
> 
> Followed by [everything's gonna be all right, tears will stop, we will dry the night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/14525467).


	87. it's not what I asked for, sometimes life just slips in through a back door and carves out a person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team assembles to retrieve Kara's dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw slurs, Nazis, drugs, violence (if you'd like to skip the violence and just read an instory summary thereof, stop at “'A concerned citizen, bro'” and start again at “'Holy shit! Trish yelps”).
> 
> Also, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to find a Disney/Pixar movie that has no dogs and no abductions.

“Y’know, you would think a Nazi gang would have better security on their super-secret websites,” says Skye with a roll of her eyes.

“Normally I’d feel bad for suggesting that, as a gang, their mental acuity isn’t likely the highest, but in this case, I’m comfortable with it,” Jemma replies cheerfully.

“You’re pacing a lot, Bobbi,” says Fitz, tilting his head. “Why?”

Someone else might have heard that and taken the opportunity to stop, but Bobbi just keeps going, texting frantically. “This is the only time you’ll ever hear me say this, but I need a minivan,” she mutters. “Well, probably just a van. Whatever will hold eight people and a dog.”

“My Uncle Gabe has a minivan,” Trip says, like he’s not sure he likes where she’s going with this.

Bobbi tilts her head. “Does your Uncle Gabe approve of mild vigilantism?”

“Honestly? Probably.” Trip grins. “You want me to give him a call?”

“Would you?” Bobbi asks. “It’s kind of urgent.”

 

* * *

 

Kara’s buzzer sounds, and she startles. “Hey, it’s okay,” soothes Karen, who’s currently wrapped around her on the couch. “It’s just the boys. I’m going to get up and let them in, okay?”

“Okay,” Kara says, trying not to sound pitiful even though she really doesn’t want Karen to leave her side for even that long.

Karen goes to the door, double-checks, and opens up. “Come in,” she says, lowering her voice to add, “I think this is gonna be a really good thing.”

Foggy nods before calling, “Hey Kara, we brought you chocolate and…” He holds up a plastic cage with his two gerbils, Skullcrusher and Carnage, inside. “Furry distractions?”

Kara perks up just a little. “Furry distractions, huh,” she repeats. “Hey, guys.” Of course she’s met them before, so she’s rather familiar with them.

“It okay if I leave you in their care?” Karen asks, returning to the couch to take Kara’s hand. “Everyone’s kinda waitin’ on me, I think.”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “Go on and do your thing. I’ll be okay here.” She sounds shaky saying it, but she means it. “I’ll see you when you get back, yeah?”

“I promise,” Karen says. “We’re gonna get her back for you and I’m gonna deliver her personally.” She leans down to hug Kara fiercely.

“She will,” Matt agrees. “You think I roughed him up, he hasn’t seen anything.”

“Here,” says Foggy, “let me get these little guys in their rolly ball and then if you want I can braid your hair or something?”

Kara giggles. “I’d like that,” she says. “You’re a good person to have sleepovers with.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Karen calls, and she lets herself out.

Matt sits down next to Kara and says, “You’re welcome to lay on me if you want.”

“That wouldn’t be weird?” Kara frets, worrying her lip.

“No, Karen and Foggy do it all the time.” He smiles reassuringly.

“Okay,” Kara murmurs, and before she can second-guess herself she curls on her side with her head in Matt’s lap. This might be the closest she’s ever been to a guy without it being sexual, and it’s actually very comforting, but everything comes over her at once and soon she’s exclaiming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cry on your pants.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, running his hand through her hair. “Whatever you need.”

Foggy plops down on her other side and reaches out, then asks, “You want a back rub or something?”

Kara nods. “Whatever you wanna do,” she mumbles. “Thank you guys for being here.” She doesn’t just mean tonight.

“Of course,” Matt says. “That’s what friends do.”

Foggy’s started to gently rub her back. “Yeah. Plus, I mean, Matt already beat the shit out of him and I’m not exactly intimidating.”

“If he was one to be affected by scolding, you’d be very effective,” Kara teases, but it’s not really a joke, either.

“Thanks?” Foggy asks. The gerbil ball runs by and bumps into Kara’s lamp before rolling around the other side of it and careening across the room again. “Don’t break things, girls!” he calls.

Kara giggles. “I mean it fondly,” she promises.

“Anyway, let me know if you still wanna take me up on the hair braiding,” adds Foggy.

“Maybe soon?” Kara says. “I’m kinda comfy.”

 

* * *

 

“I wish Kara’s apartment faced the street,” Sharon mutters. “It’d be easier to see if anyone was coming or going that shouldn’t be.”

Natasha nods. “I mean, nothing about this is easy. Fucker’s like a cockroach, he just won’t stay squished.”

“Doesn’t help that he has a whole cockroach army behind him,” Sharon says.

“Good point. Insert bad exterminator pun here,” replies Natasha with a wry smile. “Still, I hope this time they actually get him. I think we’ll all sleep better once he’s behind bars.”

“That’s gonna take a miracle,” Sharon sighs.

Natasha takes a sip of her coffee. “Hell, at least we’ve got him on something for once.”

“Something concrete, you mean,” Sharon says. “What a fucking creep.”

“Well, yeah. We all know how sympathetic the law is towards survivors.” Rolling her eyes, Natasha adds, “If they don’t come back tonight, I was thinking of going to see if Kara wanted me to keep watch at her place.”

“That’s a decent idea,” Sharon muses. “But I hope they do. I don’t want to think about why they wouldn’t.”

Nodding, Natasha replies, “Yeah. But just in case.”

“Just in case,” Sharon echoes.

 

* * *

 

“Everyone got their seatbelts on?” Trish calls behind her, checking the controls in Trip’s uncle’s van one more time.

“Yes, _Mom_ ,” says Jessica with a roll of her eyes.

Trish exhales loudly, because that’s a really low blow but also not one she’s about to get into right now. “Just saying,” she mutters. To Trip, sitting beside her in the passenger seat, she says, “You’re sure it’s cool I drive?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Gabe says he taught all his kids how to drive in this car, it can pretty much survive anything.”

“Hopefully it only has to survive a dog,” Karen says brightly, because nobody else seems to be able to fake that.

“You know where we’re headed, right, Trish?” Sam asks, trying for his own version of calm.

“Sure do,” Trish says as she starts toward the road. “Between the address Skye got for us and the fact that these Nazi bastards don’t try to hide themselves on Google Maps, I had no problem finding directions.”

Bobbi nods, just the slightest bit smug. “I’ll be sure to pass along everyone’s gratitude,” she says, because the only mood-lightening she can do is a deadpan allusion to sex.

Trip laughs, too loudly. “Thanks, I think.”

Meanwhile, Jessica has been clutching the pocket-size mirror she brought so tightly that it snaps in half. She sighs and stashes it in one pocket, pulling out another along with a tube of dark lipstick, and starts to apply it. “Bet you wish I wore this more often, huh?” she asks Luke with a smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “As if I don’t know you’ll wear whatever you damn well please.”

“What about you, Trish?”

Trish shrugs, or anyway she shrugs as best she can while gripping the steering wheel so tightly. “All I wish is that you do what makes you happy,” she says, rolling her eyes but mostly at her own cheesiness.

Jessica pauses to make an exaggerated gagging noise.

Bobbi, meanwhile, is staring out the window and playing with her escrima sticks (well, it’s not raining, and there’s no pretense of this just happening out of nowhere, so she’s coming prepared). “Hey, Bucky,” she says, “you know how many of these assholes we can count on having to take down tonight? Approximately.”

Bucky’s been doing his own absentminded staring out the window and jerks back to attention when Bobbi says his name. “I know there were about 20 guys when I joined. This isn’t the biggest safehouse so I don’t think they’d all be there, but probably anywhere from seven to fifteen? Dunno. They didn’t make a habit of this whole dog-killing thing till after I got out so I’m not really familiar with the protocol.”

Steve reaches over to rest his hand on Bucky’s knee. What it means is _thank you for telling us what you can_ , but he doesn’t say that. Instead he says, “At the most, probably, it’ll be two or three to one. We can all handle that.”

“Damn right I can,” says Jessica. “I’ll try to leave a few for the rest of you.”

“You’re sorta cocky,” Bobbi muses. “I like that.”

“Thanks.” Jessica tosses her head. “I try.”

“Your efforts are appreciated,” says Bucky with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Ward, quit playin’ that stupid game and come do shots with us!” yells Scarlotti.

Ward, who is right in the middle of Candy Crush level 65, yells “Ah, fuck off!” almost cheerfully.

Werner, who’s sitting next to Ward and looking around nervously, coughs. “Er, are we going to do the, um…”

Scarlotti laughs uproariously. “Hasn’t he told you? We’re waiting for Garrett to get back to oversee the ritual, but he’s pissed off ‘cause Ward won’t leave that ugly bitch alone. So we might be hanging around a couple days till he deigns to come back here.”

“Oh.” Werner looks at Ward. “So there’s not anything to do till he gets back? Just wait?”

“Nope,” says Ward, tossing his phone away casually (there’s a loud thump as it connects with the wall). “I’m going back to check on the mutt, c’mon. I think I left more coke in there.”

Ward heads for the walk-in closet where he’d dumped the dog earlier, Werner on his heels. She’s right where they left her, of course, still in a drugged sleep. Ward stops in the doorway and then suddenly slumps so he’s kneeling next to her body. “I don’t expect you to understand, Werner,” he says quietly. “You’re just a kid, you don’t know anything. You’ve never been in love.”

Warner, who was expecting literally anything but that, blinks. “Um.”

“She left me, you know,” Ward continues, slumping down so he’s laying next to the (still unresponsive) dog. “Everyone always leaves me. She got this dog to replace me. This dog’s been with her for two months now. You understand, don’t you, dog? You understand why I need her back.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m going back to the kitchen,” says Werner, backing out slowly.

Ward is still whining at the dog when Werner backs out of earshot.

 

* * *

 

Trish parks a block away from the safehouse - a short block, at least, but far enough that they aren’t too suspicious - and turns back around to face the others. “You’re going to be careful, right?”

“Aren’t I always?” Jessica asks.

“Not really,” Trish points out.

Luke snorts. “She’s got a point there. I’ll try to come back in one piece. Can’t vouch for her.”

“The rest of us will be as careful as we can, too,” Bobbi interjects, smirking as she slides her sticks into their holster. Other people’s lovers’ worry always amuses her.

“Good,” Trish says, rolling her eyes with a measure of fondness. “I’d rather this night not end in a trip to the hospital.”

“Hopefully,” says Sam with his own eyeroll. “Alright, it’s go time.”

Jessica leans in to kiss Trish on the mouth. “Don’t worry, I always come back.”

Luke follows with his own kiss. “Back in fifteen minutes. Call the cops if we’re not.”

“We will,” Karen interjects, holding up the phone she’s been clutching tightly the whole ride over.

“Good luck,” calls Trip, smiling in what is probably meant to be a reassuring way.

Jessica gets out of the van first, in her three-inch heels and deliberately cleavage-y top. She’s the distraction but also the battering ram. “Later,” she calls in a voice completely unlike her own, blowing Trish a kiss.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want a fishtail or French braid?” Foggy asks.

“Which one takes longer?” Kara asks in turn.

“I mean, how long do you want it to take? I bet I could combine them, actually…”

She tilts her head. “Do that,” she suggests. “Mostly, I just want you to play with it a while.” She colors a bit. “That sounds really, uh, really calming.”

“Can do,” says Foggy gently, starting to brush her hair carefully.

Matt, who’s sitting in front of her (turned sideways to face her), rubs his thumb across the back of her hand. He hasn’t let go of her hands since she slipped them into his. “Anything else we can do for you?”

Kara shakes her head before she thinks about it. “You’re helping a lot,” she says. “I promise.”

“Good,” says Foggy. “You have soft hair.”

“Thank you,” she says, giggling. “I mean, I guess that’s just something I come by naturally?”

“It’s nice,” he says, starting to braid.

“You smell nice, Kara,” adds Matt, then coughs. “Er, I mean. Sorry, that’s probably weird to say.”

She laughs again. “No, I mean, I know where it’s coming from,” she says. “Which is a place that isn’t weird, so it’s not weird.”

He laughs too. “Good. I mean, thank you. It’s meant kindly.”

They’re quiet for a couple of minutes, Foggy working diligently on Kara’s braid, before the buzzer sounds and Kara jumps again. “Are you expecting someone?” Matt asks.

“Uh, maybe?” she says, frowning. “I mean, not… exactly, but…”

“I’ll see who it is,” says Foggy. “Uh, here.” He hands Kara the end of the braid. “Hold that.”

Once he gets to the buzzer and calls, “Who is it?” Rhodey’s voice answers, “It’s Rhodey. Um, Karen texted me earlier?”

“Oh okay, uh…” Foggy glances at Kara for guidance.

“He can come in,” Kara says. “You can come in. Hey.”

“Yeah, c’mon up.” Foggy tilts his head. “Did you know he was coming?”

“Huh-uh,” Kara replies, shaking her head. “It’s a surprise to me. I don’t mind though.”

Rhodey arrives a minute later, holding a DVD and a box of ice cream bars. “Hey,” he says. “I brought you some ice cream, and _Ratatouille._ It’s the least upsetting Disney movie I could think of.”

“I’ve never seen that,” she admits. “You know Matt and Foggy, right?”

“Haven’t been introduced. Hey there,” he says with a grin. “I’m Rhodey.”

“Matt, and that’s Foggy.” Matt tilts his head towards Foggy. “Future partners of Murdock & Nelson.”

“Nelson & Murdock,” Foggy says with a roll of his eyes. “So how do you know Kara?”

“We hung out while she was, y’know, adjusting. Watched some movies together.”

“Sounds nice,” Matt says. “Well, um, if you’d rather we clear out, Kara, we can…”

“No,” Kara says immediately. “I mean, we can all… do movies. If you want to.”

Foggy shrugs. “I kinda wanna finish that braid, so.”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that.” Rhodey goes to put in the DVD before turning back to the couch, which is mostly full. “Um, guess I’ll take the floor,” he says with a smirk.

“No, I can,” says Matt, putting Kara’s hands in her lap before letting go of them slowly. “I like floors actually.”

Kara takes a moment to adjust before she nods and pats the empty spot beside her. “More the merrier, I guess.”

Rhodey chuckles and settles next to her, retrieving the remote from the arm of the couch and pressing play. “Sure. Ice cream, anyone?”

“Once I’m done with this,” says Foggy.

“Same,” Kara says. “I wouldn’t want to mess him up.” But almost unconsciously, like it’s just habit after holding Matt’s hands, she grabs one of Rhodey’s and gives it a squeeze.

Foggy raises both eyebrows at that, but decides not to comment until he’s done braiding.

As the movie begins and Foggy keeps playing with her hair, Kara relaxes even more, actually managing a genuine resting smile. This is silly, but it’s immersive enough that she isn’t worrying about anything too much.

Finally, Foggy fastens the braid with the hair tie Kara had given him before and says, “There. I think? I mean I guess you can’t see it anyway, but I think it looks nice.”

“I think so too,” chimes in Rhodey.

“You could take a picture?” Kara suggests, fumbling for her phone.

“Ooh, good idea.” Foggy does and passes her phone back once he’s done. “Good?”

“So good,” Kara agrees, grinning. “You’re really good at that.”

Foggy grins. “Thanks.”

They go back to watching the movie, and Kara leans her head on Rhodey’s shoulder. By the time Anton Ego has arrived to re-review the restaurant, they’ve both quietly dozed off, Rhodey’s head tipped against hers. Foggy looks over and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Uh, Matt,” he says. “Kara’s sleeping on Rhodey.”

“Oh? I mean, I can hear she’s sleeping from her breathing,” Matt replies. “Sleeping on him how?”

“Just her head on his shoulder.” Foggy tilts his head. “I didn’t know they were close.”

“Guess so. He seems like a good guy.”

 

* * *

 

Jessica knocks on the apartment door in what she thinks is probably a sexy, femme fatale way. Who fucking knows.

The guy who opens the door has hair that’s slicked up so he looks like Jimmy Neutron and the douchiest mustache she’s ever seen. “‘Ello there,” he says, slurring a little. “Who sent you?”

“Oh, I’m a special surprise,” she purrs, leaning on the door. “Sounds like you boys are having a party in there.”

“Uh, yeah. We got drinks, you wanna come in and have one? Me and the boys are just hanging out.” He opens the door, leering at her.

“Yeah, how about you pour me a Nazi Uppercut?” she asks with a smirk.

“What?”

Then she punches him in the jaw, sending him sprawling. “That’s what I mean, you bastard.”

“Hey, who’s at the door, bro?” calls someone from around the corner.

“A concerned citizen, _bro_ ,” she says, stepping over the body and striding inside. The others are close behind her, weapons at the ready.

“Yo, what’s this?” asks one of the Hydra guys.

“An ambush,” says Luke, grabbing one of the decorative sculptures and lobbing it at the guy’s head.

Bobbi narrows her eyes and glances around the room, idly twirling one of her batons. “Where’s that asshole anyway?”

The Hydra boys, in various stages of drunk, high, or both, come out to meet them. Jessica kicks one in the spleen with one of her ridiculous heels and says, “Dunno, but if I find him, he’s all yours.”

Sam, still standing in the doorway, watches the ensuing brawl and shakes his head. “Always gotta jump in with the fists. What happened to talking?” A bald, sour-faced man lunges at him and he sighs and jumps into the fray.

The guy Jessica hit has managed to pick himself up off the floor and growls, “C’mere, you bitch!”

“With pleasure,” says Jessica, elbowing the guy who’s trying to bear-hug her in the ribs before meeting Jimmy Neutron halfway. He punches her in the shoulder, and there’s a lot of force behind it (she’s careful not to wince), but it means he’s completely unprepared for when she clocks him in the cheek.

Luke comes up to try to join her but she growls, “No, I got this!”

“Alright,” he says with a nod, turning his attention to another Nazi.

Bucky and Steve are back-to-back, fighting in a way that looks more coordinated than it probably is. One man sneers, “Well, if it isn’t the deserter. How’s that working out for you, fag?”

Steve whirls around to kick the guy in the knee, and then Bucky punches him in the teeth so hard that he actually knocks one out. “Pretty well, thanks!” he says.

“You okay?” calls Steve as he turns back around.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Ward stumbles out of the back bedroom, squinting. “The fuck’s going on here?” Werner peers out from behind him, eyes huge and terrified.

Growling, Bobbi leverages herself up on a bit of exposed pipe and kicks Ward in the gut.

 

* * *

 

‘It’s been fifteen minutes, right?” Trish asks, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “I mean, we should call the cops already, shouldn’t we?”

Karen glances at her phone. “Give them a few more minutes,” she says doubtfully. “We’re right on the edge. It could’ve gotten… I dunno. Sticky.”

Trish makes a face. “It’s stupid, I know they can take care of themselves, but… still. They should get the dog and get out, right?”

“This isn’t a beating these guys don’t deserve,” Karen points out.

“I know that,” Trish sighs. “I think the waiting is just getting to me.”

“I brought a deck of cards,” Trip says. “It’s dumb, but wanna play a round of Go Fish?”

“Yeah,” Trish nods. “It’s about the most basic distraction, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Deal it out,” Karen suggests.

They play for a few rounds - for something so simple, it proves pretty effective as a distraction - before a folding chair comes crashing out the building’s window. “I guess we know where they are now,” says Trip.

“They get another five minutes before we call the cops,” Trish says.

 

* * *

 

 

“Should’ve known you’d come,” groans Ward, staggering to his feet with one arm wrapped around his stomach. “You can’t leave well enough alone, can you, bitch? What, are you hoping if you bring back her stupid dog she’ll fuck you?”

Bobbi takes a step back, getting her sticks in hand. “At least if she did, I’d know she wanted me,” she hisses.

Ward’s not sober enough to keep himself from wincing. “Shut up, whore!” He lunges for her.

His bad luck, she can see that coming and steps out of the way, letting him fall. “Still as creative with your insults as ever,” she deadpans.

He goes sprawling, barely catching himself before he lands on his face. He grunts, growls something that might be another slur, and turns to face her again. “You self-righteous bitch! I’m gonna come after you next!”

“You know, I really doubt it,” she says with false brightness, getting her batons in hand and gearing up.

Ward laughs uproariously at the batons. “Ooh, you gonna hit me with your sticks? Or twirl them at me? I’m so scaaaaaared.”

She rolls her eyes, effortlessly and rapidly striking him in the shoulder, groin, and chest before delivering the most powerful blow to the side of his neck. “Does belittling people usually work out for you?” she asks. “I can’t imagine it’s the most effective rhetorical strategy.” She whacks him again on either arm.

He goes down with a loud thud and a series of groans.

Across the room, Bucky and Steve are tossing a folding chair between them as both a weapon and a shield, deflecting blows just as well as smacking Hydra members. “Just like old times!” says Bucky cheerfully.

Jessica has flipped a guy over her head and has one of her heels on his neck, while Luke is exchanging blows with a guy who would be inflicting serious damage on anyone else. Sam, meanwhile, has snuck away from the fight to find Autumn.

He heads down the hallway to the back bedroom, assuming correctly that the closed door is closed for a reason, and opens it to see a pair of shoes poking out from under the bed. “You picked a terrible hiding spot,” he says sternly. “Come out from under there before I have to drag you out.”

A moment later Werner wriggles out, shaking, and cowers. “I - I didn’t do anything!” he yelps.

“Uh huh. Where’s the dog?”

“We...we need her…”

Sam steps over to grab his shirt collar. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time. Where’s. The. Dog?”

Werner points at the closet with a shaking finger.

Still holding his collar, Sam drags him over to verify. Sure enough, there’s Autumn laid out on her side, still unconscious. “What’d they do to her?” he asks. “It’ll go better for you if you just tell me the first time.”

“I - I think they drugged her with something. N-nothing too serious, we need her alive f-for…”

“Yeah, I know. Your sick initiation ritual, right?” Sam scoffs. “There a reason you’re having this crazy party instead of just getting it over with?”

“Scarlotti t-told me that we have to have Garrett watch, but, but he’s gone, he’s out of town. I, I was told to wait until he gets back.”

“Alright.” Sam loosens his grip on Werner’s shirt collar a little. “Now, I think you’re a little shithead, but I got stuff to do that doesn’t include beating you to a pulp. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He picks up the lamp off the bedside table. “How old are you, anyway?”

“S-seventeen, but I turn eighteen in five-”

“Jesus.” Shaking his head, Sam holds up the lamp. “Listen, while I make sure this dog is still in one piece, you sit on that bed and don’t move a muscle, or you’ll wake up in a couple hours with a nice knot in your head. Deal?”

Werner nods.

Satisfied, Sam angles himself so he can both keep an eye on the kid and attend to Autumn. First, though, he pulls out his phone and takes pictures of everything in case the police need evidence.

Conveniently, the police arrive just as Sam’s wondering how to sneak the dog through the fight. “Freeze!” yells Sergeant Clemons, hoisting his gun. “Everyone put your hands up!”

Once the officers have guns trained on them, it turns out Hydra is very cooperative. So is Steve’s group, although Jessica gets in one last punch.

“Mahoney, Evans, start cuffing,” directs Clemons. “And, you, Simpson…”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do this, sir,” says this Simpson, a blond man, who slowly moves his gun around to point it at Clemons.

Clemons doesn’t move, but flicks his eyes over to Simpson. “Officer, stand down.”

“That isn’t how this night is supposed to happen,” Simpson says. “Taking these boys in is more trouble than it’s worth. We’re really supposed to waste our time over some drug-snorting brawlers when there are _real_ threats to the community?”

In the crowd, Steve chortles.

One of Simpson’s fellow officers has his gun trained on him. “Simpson, the sergeant gave you a direct order. Stand down.”

Sam takes this opportunity to wander out and say, “Yeah, so, I have a minor in the back room that says he was acting under orders and an unconscious dog that that guy-” he points at Ward “-stole, so I’d say these guys are a pretty real threat.”

Simpson sighs and aims his gun at Sam instead. “I wasn’t supposed to make a mess, but what else can I do?” he mumbles.

Steve is up on his feet in seconds, jumping to tackle Simpson to the ground and twist his arms behind his back. “Nobody gets to show guns to my boyfriend except for me,” he says smoothly. “And our other boyfriend. And our girlfriends.”

“What the _fuck_?” Simpson yelps.

The gun, which has gone flying, lands over by Ward, who picks it up and shoots Jessica in the leg. “That was a warning,” he says, over her angry yelp. “Now…”

Bobbi roars, gathering up her batons and slapping Ward’s wrist with one so hard the gun goes skittering across the floor, in the direction of exactly no one. “Now _what_?” she mutters.

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit!” Trish yelps, seeing an ambulance pull up to the building behind the recently-arrived police vehicles.

“Uh oh,” says Trip. “I mean, it’s probably nothing too bad…”

“They went in there to fight Nazis who throw chairs out of windows and kidnap dogs,” Trish shouts, gripping the steering wheel. “Why wouldn’t it be bad?”

“Because they’re tough and it’s gonna be okay,” Karen says. “It just is.”

“So help me, if something happened to Jess or Luke…” Trish shakes her head, frowning.

Not two minutes later a stream of people starts to come out of the building, starting with an assortment of Hydra members being led out by cops. Steve and the others are also in handcuffs, but it seems to be more of a formality than anything, since they’re huddled together and have only one officer escorting them. Bobbi, smirking despite the fact that she’s handcuffed and a police officer has her batons, is limping toward the ambulance as fast as she can. And then, Jessica and Luke appear, Luke apparently holding Jessica up as she hobbles out the door.

“What the hell!” Trish shouts, jumping out of the van. “What _happened_?”

Jessica glances up, giving Trish a smirk even though she’s obviously in quite a bit of pain. “Oh, you know, fuckface shot me in the leg. It’s gonna be fine.”

“He _shot_ you?” Trish squeaks. “That’s not _fine_!”

Jessica shrugs. “I made it out.”

“Barely,” says Luke, rolling his eyes.

“Hey!” She glares.

“Well, stop dawdling and get to the hospital,” she says. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Karen pokes her head out the door. “Where’s Autumn?”

“One of the officers was saying they had to take her to the station for drug tests,” says Luke. “She’s breathing, but they gave her something.”

“Karen, we can follow them to the hospital and drop Trish off, then go to the station,” says Trip.

“Okay,” both women say.

“Something tells me we’re going to need to haul everyone else’s asses home, too,” Karen adds with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

“ _Oh thank god_ ,” Jemma cries, flinging the door open and running into the small hospital room where Bobbi’s laid up.

“Miss me?” Bobbi teases. She’s been beat up worse even in the time they’ve known her, but she’s still got more cuts and bruises than most people who have the energy to smirk that much.

“Yeah, actually,” says Skye, a little shortly. “You scared the shit out of us, when Trish called and said you were here.”

Bobbi shrugs. (Good pain meds make her a little glib.) “It was a precaution,” she says, nodding to her wrapped and elevated ankle. “I was walking a little funny, so they wanted to make sure nothing was broken.”

“Good grief!” Jemma exclaims, perching on the corner of Bobbi’s bed and taking her hand. “I’m guessing nothing is, but that’s not a good sign, Bobbi!”

“It’s just bruised,” Bobbi sighs. “Well, the fibula. I swear one of those fuckers must have hit me with an industrial flashlight or something. There were some weird-ass things being used as weapons in there.”

“Damn,” says Skye, eyes widening. “So what happened?”

“I’ll tell you if you’re both very sweet,” Bobbi coos.

Jemma takes this as a sign to scoot up on the bed and lay her head against Bobbi’s chest. “Promise,” she says.

Skye sits down and grabs Bobbi’s hand with a smirk. “Satisfied?”

Bobbi nods. “So we show up and Jess takes out the guy who answers the door, this douchebag with really stupid hair,” she begins.

“Don’t they all have really stupid hair?” Jemma giggles.

“Fair point,” Bobbi says. “One by one we start kicking their asses and finally their idiot lord appears, coked out of his mind.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Everyone was nice enough to let me have him, and I’m sure he thought he was getting off easy. He thought those -” another pause, where she nods to her batons on the table by the door - “were hilarious at first. Not so much by the time I’d knocked him out.”

Jemma’s eyes are impossibly big. “You’re wonderful,” she murmurs.

“Thanks, honey,” Bobbi replies fondly, ruffling Jemma’s hair. “So it’s a total smackdown, Jess and Luke are taking guys down, Steve and Bucky are fighting some of those pricks with folding chairs - I’m not even kidding - and Sam goes back to find Autumn, finding the twerpy kid who got tangled up in this back there too.”

“Tangled up like…?” Skye asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Like, he’s totally a baby Nazi and I would bet money on the fact that he’s going to wind up in juvie till his eighteenth birthday, but nobody told him to expect, like, the Resistance,” Bobbi says smugly.

Skye makes a noise that’s not entirely appropriate for a semi-public area. “So like, how much longer are you stuck here?” she asks, running her other hand up and down Bobbi’s arm.

“Honestly, I’m free to get out of here as soon as there’s a responsible party to drive me,” Bobbi says airily, raising an eyebrow.

“I had to call Drax to give us a ride, so he’s downstairs chilling and waiting for us,” says Skye.

Bobbi cracks up. “Be sure to use the word chilling in his presence so he’ll stop and buy us ice cream,” she suggests.

Skye snickers. “Good plan. I mean, he already wants to buy you a round, I just convinced him that was a bad idea while you’re laid up and stuff.”

“I’ll take him up on that later,” Bobbi says, smirking. “In the meantime, how ‘bout we summon a nurse and get me out of here?”

“Okay, but I wanna hear the rest of the story,” says Skye, pouting just a bit.

“I’ll hit the buzzer and I bet I’ll be able to finish telling it by the time the nurse arrives,” Bobbi says, doing just that. “So Autumn’s okay, just drugged up, the poor thing. Turns out they had to wait for Ward’s, like, mentor to show up to do the actual horrible thing. It’s all ritualized and shit. Lucky for us, said mentor is nowhere to be found.”

Jemma scoffs. “I bet he’s hiding from Ward’s bullshit.”

“Not a bad theory,” Bobbi smirks. “The cops show up sometime around now, but then it turns out one of the cops, despite not being a Nazi, got bought out by the Nazis. Some nonsense about making sure the cops fight the _real_ criminals, which tells me even if this cop isn’t a Nazi, he’s damn close. So there’s an attempted coup, during which scuffles ensue, guns get tossed around, Jess gets shot - but just in the leg, she’s okay - and when it all settles, we get hauled out in handcuffs. Formality for those of us who aren’t white supremacists, but y’know. Most of them went down to the station. Jess and Luke and I wound up here. And yeah, we were questioned, but…” She shrugs with her very sweetest smile. “I think this Clemons guy wanted to take our side, because my claim that I went straight from training at the gym to going to ask the nice Nazis to please give us our friend’s dog back definitely flew.”

Jemma leans up to kiss Bobbi’s cheek. “You’re brilliant.”

Skye goes one step further and kisses Bobbi on the lips, not entirely chaste. “You kick ass.”

There’s a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” the nurse calls.

“Just a second,” Bobbi shouts, lowering her voice as she says to the girls, “Let’s get out of here and then I want to see just how highly you think of me.”

 

* * *

 

The buzzer goes off and Kara jolts awake, accidentally smacking Rhodey’s chin with her forehead as she sits up. “Shit!” she exclaims, then, looking around and seeing that Matt and Foggy might be asleep, she lowers her voice to a whisper and repeats, “Shit! I’m so sorry.”

He grunted involuntarily when she smacked him, but he shakes his head and says, “Nah, it’s fine. You wanna get that or should I?”

“Would you mind?” she says.

“Course not.” He runs a hand through her hair before standing up and going over to see who it is.

At the other end of the couch, Foggy blinks awake and then hisses, “Matt! Matt! Wake up!”

“Hm?” Matt yawns.

“The door,” Kara says softly, sitting up and trying to make herself presentable just in case.

“Hello?” calls Rhodey.

“It’s us,” Karen says. “Can we come in?”

Kara nods fervently.

“Sure,” says Rhodey, grinning despite himself.

Moments later, Karen enters the apartment, waving everyone in behind her. “Hey,” she says quietly, mostly to Kara. “Look who we brought.”

Bucky comes in last, wheeling a dog carrier. “Here she is,” he says, opening the door.

Kara immediately bursts into tears and falls to her knees at the carrier door. Autumn stirs inside and very lazily scrambles out, wandering up to Kara and giving her kisses, which just makes Kara cry more. “You _guys_ ,” she exclaims, “she’s okay, and - thank you, I just…”

“Of course,” says Sam, smiling.

“They had her pretty sedated,” Steve explains with a frown, “but the vet at the ER gave us instructions to give to you for how to get her back to normal, and in the meantime she’s doing just as well as she could be.”

Akela wanders over to the open door, waving once she’s noticed. “I was waiting up to make sure you were all right,” she explains. “I’m glad you have Autumn back.”

“Me too,” Kara says, laughing shakily. “God, I just… I can’t even begin to…”

“So some of the details are still up in the air,” says Sam, “but all the Hydra dudes who were there have been taken into custody. There’s supposed to be a hearing in a couple weeks, and Sergeant Clemons said if you want to testify, you probably have a pretty good case against him. I mean, even without the hospital records.”

“Can I think about it?” Kara asks, suddenly sounding very tired. “I mean. I want him to get put away for good. I just - I’m not sure I can process anything intelligently right now.”

“Aw, ‘course,” Karen murmurs, coming to rub Kara’s back. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie, I promise.”

“They did say a credible witness could testify on your behalf,” says Bucky. “And honestly, I have enough shit on him too that either way, he’s not getting out of this.”

Kara nods, leaning back against Karen’s legs. “We’ll figure it out,” she says.


	88. if I take you at your word then I'm empty handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A jealous Loki tries to win Lorelei's affections by discrediting Raina. His plans do not turn out as he intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: subtle bigotry, slut-shaming, and so forth.

Most of the people in this mall know better than to bother Lorelei when she’s having lunch by herself. She’s not opposed to company sometimes, but when she wants it, she invites it. So when a shadow falls over her shoulder as she’s drinking a smoothie in peace, she sort of has her suspicions.

“Hello, m’lady,” says the someone.

Lorelei rolls her eyes. “What do you want, Loki?”

“A moment of conversation,” he says, coming around to sit opposite her. “I’ve noticed that you and Raina have been very...close.”

“Took you this long to figure that out?” she snaps.

“Yes,” he replies. “Well, it may be of interest to you to know that you are not her exclusive paramour.”

“Her _what_ ,” Lorelei exclaims, because while she knows what that means she’s not entirely sure what he’s getting at, or more importantly why he’s getting at it right now.

“You know.” Loki looks almost uncomfortable. “The one who...likes flowers.”

“Yes, Raina likes flowers, that doesn’t answer my question. Exactly what isn’t exclusive that you think should trouble me?”

“Er...she…” He swallows. “She seems to be...in congress...with another woman.”

“In… oh my god.” Lorelei groans. “It never once occurred to you that I’ve known the whole time? Silly boy.”

He blinks, seeming a bit taken aback. “In fact, it hadn’t.”

She has to concentrate very hard on her smoothie for a moment to keep from actually strangling him. “Then let me spell it out for you,” she says flatly. “Yes, Raina and I fuck. On a regular basis. No, we are not exclusive. Nor have we ever been. Nor, and here is the important part, does this bother either one of us.”

Loki looks at her for a long moment. “But surely you of all people deserve someone who will shower you with adoration, and only you,” he argues.

“Oh, honey,” she says. “You’re so ignorant it’s actually sort of cute.”

He purses his lips. “Thank you, I think? Or...not?”

“Thank me or don’t, that’s your business,” Lorelei says. “What you apparently don’t understand is that exclusivity has nothing to do with adoration. Adoration is not, as a rule, finite. It’s not a pie, and if you give a piece to someone that’s that much less to give to someone else.” She’s speaking to him slowly, as if he’s a child.

“I disagree,” he says, pouting.

“I amend my point, then,” she sighs. “In my opinion, and in Raina’s, adoration is not finite. Spending time with someone else doesn’t make either of us less eager to spend time with the other.” She pauses to collect her thoughts. “Why do you bring this up now, all of a sudden? It’s not like I haven’t slept with other people in the last year and a half, or she hasn’t.”

Loki coughs and replies, “Well, Ward, he was...he was a game, yes?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” she replies with a smug smile.

He seems to have no reply to that, because he stands up and walks away without another word.

 

* * *

 

“The hell is going on over there?” Clint asks.

“It looks like when a couple is fighting,” Laura offers. “Except they aren’t one, right?”

“I sure hope not,” says Clint. “I think he’s talking about Raina though.”

“I thought Raina was a ghost,” Laura teases.

He shrugs. “I mean, she is. She’s my ghost. I can ghost-hunt her, nobody else can. And it sounds like he was being an asshole.”

“That’s actually sorta cute,” she murmurs. “You’re being protective.”

He grins a little sheepishly. “She’s just part of my routine, I dunno. And she’s one of a few people I told about these,” he adds, gesturing to his hearing aids. “She’s weird, but I kinda like her.”

Laura nods. “Makes sense, I guess,” she muses. “For the record, as someone else in the small bunch? I’m really flattered.”

Reaching for her hand, Clint smiles. “Good. It’s a compliment and...stuff.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replies, smirking. “Also a compliment? When I called you cute a minute ago. Just letting you know.”

“Aw, well, same to you.”

 

* * *

 

“Do girls actually fall for that?” Pietro asks as he jogs in place.

“Elaborate so I know what you’re really asking,” Raina says.

“Murderous, charming bad boy,” he explains. “I would think the first of these things would be off-putting.”

“Ah.” Raina gives a little sigh. “This is somewhat satirical, but the point it’s getting at is true. When you’re surrounded by people who are all rather one-note and uninspired, a bit of pretentious melancholy and dark wit can seem intriguing. Unfortunately.”

Wanda cocks her head. “I see. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Misanthropy can seem like the height of intelligence,” Raina explains. “When you yourself spend a lot of time hating people, someone else who also purports to hate people appeals.” She shrugs. “This is just the extreme version.”

“Hm. So are they all called Heather for a reason or is that just a coincidence?”

Raina’s phone rings before she can answer the question, and she fumbles for her remote.

“Who is calling you at seven o’clock on a Tuesday?” Wanda asks.

“I doubt anyone good,” Raina deadpans before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, this is Dermot Yarborough and I’d like to make you an offer.”

Raina has to make a conscious effort not to snort. Silently, she indicates to the twins that they should be quiet and places the call on speaker. “Whatever could that be, Mr. Yarborough?” she asks as sweetly as possible.

“I’m calling from the Weed Store Corporation with a job offer for you, in a corporate position.”

Wanda quickly stuffs her fist into her mouth to avoid shrieking in laughter. Pietro, too, is giggling into his hands. The store, of course, is not actually named “the weed store.”

“A corporate position, really,” Raina goads.

“Yes. We have positions available in multiple states, including Alaska, Hawaii, Florida, and New Jersey,” he continues. “However, should you accept, we would need you to be ready to start within the next week.”

“You know,” Raina murmurs, “I did spend part of my childhood in Hawaii. Lovely place.”

“Yes, and the position has a handsome salary and benefits package. Our other condition is that we would need you to accept during this phone call.”

“Could you give me a bit of background on what the position would actually involve?”

“Ah, yes.” He sounds a bit unsure of himself for the first time. “It, ah, involves direct contact with our suppliers and overseeing the quality of various products.”

“Various products, really?” Raina prompts.

“Our products, yes,” he says. “I’m sure I don’t have to elaborate.”

She was clearly hoping he would, though, just because it would be funny, so she sighs and says, in as flat a voice as could be imagined, “Our store is locally run and unfranchised,” and hangs up with a flourish.

Pietro and Wanda are staring at her. “What was that about?” Pietro asks. “He didn’t sound like he worked for your company.”

“He didn’t,” Raina sighs, flopping back against her couch dramatically.

“Was it Loki?” says Wanda. “It sounded like him.”

“Yes, I’m almost positive it was,” Raina says. “It’s his style.”

“But why?”

Raina raises an eyebrow. “Keep in mind both what we know Loki wants - a certain party’s attention - and what we know Loki is - a basic little asshole,” she says.

“I suppose,” says Wanda doubtfully. “Should we mention this to anyone?”

“Whatever he’s playing at, he won’t succeed,” Raina declares. “It’s going to bite him in the ass, one way or another.”

 

* * *

 

“Mom?” Harley Keener, age nine, asks. “Why are there pictures of a naked woman scattered all over?”

His mother frowns, glancing down at the floor. Sure enough, there are pictures of a naked (well, mostly-naked, anyway) woman flung about. “This is unacceptable!” she exclaims, although she sounds more baffled than indignant.

“Why is she bent over a chair, and lying on a bearskin rug? Why is she holding a feather over her-”

“ _Harley_ ,” she shouts. “That’s it, we’re going to speak to security.” She hurriedly snatches up a few of the photographs before dragging her son down the hall to the security office. “I don’t know what sort of April Fools’ joke they think this is, but it’s thoroughly inappropriate,” she mutters to herself as she knocks on the door.

“I was just asking,” he says right before the door opens.

Nick Fury, wearing his usual beleaguered expression, gives them something resembling a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Mrs. Keener shoves the photographs in his face, demanding, “What is the meaning of this? These _images_ are strewn all through the mall! Up and down the corridor.”

Fury stares at the photos for a long time. Then he sighs. “Ma’am, I can assure you that we as an establishment had nothing to do with this. It seems to have been committed by a malicious third party, who we will work on stopping. I am sorry you had to see it.” He adds about twelve more profanities in his head.

Huffing, the woman turns to go. Behind Fury, Coulson and Maria glance at each other, both equally puzzled. “Uh, sir?” Maria asks. “What was that about?”

Fury holds up the pictures. He doesn’t need to say anything else.

Coulson makes a startled noise. “That’s…is that…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s Raina,” says Maria, also looking startled. “Where did she find those?”

“Apparently scattered all over the damn mall,” sighs Fury. “I knew it was too quiet for this goddamn holiday. Can you two go and work on cleaning this up before we have another incident? If you see people just standing around, get them to help too.”

Coulson nods and heads for the door. Maria hesitates. “Sir, do you have any suspicions about who did this?”

“Nothing confirmed,” says Fury with a shrug. “Had to be someone working quickly. Someone with a grudge, maybe. Flowers is weird, but she’s generally more discreet than this.”

Maria frowns. “I’ll keep an ear to the ground.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, this is a more dramatic April Fool than I expected,” Pepper sighs.

“I’ve learned not to expect anything from this holiday,” Rhodey says.

Tony shrugs. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I’m not entirely opposed to this.” He dodges Pepper’s glare and quickly adds, “The pictures, not so much the scattering them around in public. I’m not that tacky.”

“You have been known to approach that tacky,” Pepper points out.

“Fair point,” he says without further comment.

“Since we’re pretty well in consensus that this wasn’t Raina’s idea, does anyone know if she knows?” Rhodey asks.

“We don’t exactly talk,” Tony points out. “She might know my name, but only because of, y’know, reasons.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “She’s been to your house twice, I think she’s aware of you for more than just your not-so-sterling reputation,” she points out. “I haven’t spoken to her either. I’m not sure if she’s even working today.”

Rhodey frowns. “Will you guys be okay if I swing over there to see? And then if she isn’t I’ll go talk to Kara, she has her number.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, raising an eyebrow. “Go ahead. We’ll get this taken care of.”

Tony also rolls his eyes.

Rhodey, ignoring him, nods acknowledgment to Pepper and turns to go.

Raina isn’t working today, as it turns out, so he heads for the admin office. Poking his head inside, he knocks gently on the wall. “Hey,” he calls. “Kara?”

Kara looks up from her computer and beams. “Hey!” she replies. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing good, sorry to say.” Rhodey holds out one of the pictures. “Some jackass scattered these all over the mall.”

“Oh, dear,” Kara murmurs. Objectively speaking, they’re not bad pictures. She’s seen more than that of Raina, and Raina _is_ very photogenic. But - they’re not pictures that are meant to be seen by everyone, at least everyone here, and that they’ve been spread… “Does she know?”

“I doubt it. She’s not working today, I just went to check. I thought I’d tell you so you could pass it on.”

Kara nods. “Of course, I’ll… I’ll let her know,” she mumbles, pulling out her phone and frantically firing off a text message.

“What’s goin’ on?” Karen asks, appearing from the back.

“Some… some degenerate left private photos of Raina everywhere,” Kara mutters.

“Shit,” Karen says. She steps forward to look at the pictures, worrying her lip. “Not that it makes it less bad, but these are really damn high-quality private photos.”

“Whoever it was didn’t leave cameras in her house, at least,” Kara sighs. “That’s the smallest consolation in the world.”

Rhodey gives her a sympathetic look. “Yeah,” he says, feeling a little awkward. “Uh, that’s true.”

“What’s going on?” Irani calls, glancing up.

“Photo leak photo bomb,” Kara groans.

“Oh dear.” Irani frowns. “Is that your...friend…?” She’s not sure what to call Raina, but she and Kara seem close.

Kara nods. “I just don’t know how…” She trails off, making a horrified face. “You don’t think that somehow it could’ve been something to do with…? Like, like a spite thing?”

“Here’s hoping it’s not,” replies Rhodey. “But I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“How would they have gotten _in_ though?” Kara frets.

“Let’s check the security camera footage,” suggests Irani. “That should be helpful.”

Five minutes later, they’re crowded into the security office, as Fury accesses the day’s archived footage. “Here,” he says. “Hopefully they were stupid.”

Irani scrolls through the footage until she spots a tall man wearing a V mask and carrying a stack of paper. “Aha,” she says, pausing it.

“What the hell?” Karen exclaims.

Rhodey widens his eyes. “What is this, Anonymous?”

“Doubtful,” says Irani. “And likely not a member of Hydra either. They don’t tend to be this subtle.”

“Another small consolation,” Kara sighs, and Karen squeezes her hand.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Rhodey asks quietly.

Kara nods. “Thanks for letting us know,” she says. “Mostly I’m just angry on her behalf.”

Nodding, Rhodey says, “I get it. Lemme know if you need anything.”

 

* * *

 

“Does this sort of thing happen here often?” Rosalind asks, smirking.

“Specifically? No,” sighs Melinda. “Generally odd things? More than I’d like.”

“And I don’t suppose you’d be the one to go to for catching up on said generally odd things,” Rosalind says. It’s halfway a challenge.

Melinda snorts. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” she says, without malice.

“We’re usually otherwise occupied,” Rosalind replies without missing a beat, stuffing some photographs into a trash bag. “Besides, he’d give me the glossed-over version of it.”

“Makes sense,” concedes Melinda. “Once on Black Friday we had Donnie from the phone place get absolutely hammered and start singing that _Frozen_ song in the middle of the mall.”

“Isn’t he a literal child?” Rosalind crows.

“At the time, yes,” says Melinda with a smirk.

“Well, that’s a story from the _innocent_ insanity archives, anyway,” Rosalind muses, faking a sigh.

“Revenge porn’s a new one, though,” says Melinda, rolling her eyes.

“This isn’t even really porn,” Rosalind scoffs. “All her naughty bits are plenty hidden. This is just inappropriately distributed cheesecake smut.”

“True enough.” Melinda sighs again. “Still unpleasant.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” says Clint, who would like nothing more to not be walking around with his ex picking up naked pictures of someone he personally knows. “How are...things?”

“You sound shifty enough that I’m not sure if things means work stuff or my sex life,” Bobbi replies cheerily.

“Uh. Any of those?”

“The former is boring as usual, the latter is scintillating enough that I don’t even feel like being mean and torturing you with it,” she replies.

“Uh, okay,” he says, even more embarrassed than he already was. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” she says without a trace of irony. “Got any ideas of who our culprit is? Kara texted me that at least it’s not Nazis, so that’s… something.”

He shrugs. “I mean, no? I don’t even know who she hangs out with, really.”

“But you do actually talk to her,” she points out.

“Yeah, sometimes. She’s my ghost...I mean friend! We’re friends! Sort of!” He’s never been good at keeping his cool around Bobbi, even before.

“You don’t need to sound so freaked out,” Bobbi laughs. “I don’t care who you’re friends with. I’m not _not_ friends with her, but we don’t really chat much, and you guys do. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I guess,” he says quietly. “She hangs around that Lorelei chick a lot, and she hangs out with…” Then he thinks of something, suddenly. “Shit. Um. I might have an idea of who this is.”

 

* * *

 

“This is most unkind,” says Thor, frowning as he chases after photos.

Joey’s frowning too. “I mean, this seems pretty random. Is she a model or something?”

“No, she works across from your establishment, in this very mall. Her name is Raina and she is employed at the recreational substance store. She is quite a peculiar person, but I doubt she authorized this display.”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve seen her around. She comes into the arcade sometimes.” Joey’s frown deepens. “I don’t understand what makes people do this. Pass around naked pictures, I mean, not take them.”

“Nor do I, Joey. It seems to me to be a breach of great trust.” Thor shakes his head. “No matter your motivation, it is the wrong choice to make.”

 

* * *

 

“I hate people,” grumbles Jessica.

“Things like this don’t exactly cast a great light on them,” Trish agrees, sighing. “Us. Whatever.”

That makes Jessica smile slightly. “You sound like a space alien.”

“Well, technically we’re people, but we both know we weren’t involved in this, so it’s sort of a weird time to say us,” Trish shrugs, rolling her eyes.

“I guess.” Jessica shrugs. “Well, you don’t suck, and Luke doesn’t suck, but everybody else right now, fuck ‘em.”

“Someone has to figure out who did this, right?” Trish says.

“Uh, eventually?” Jessica glances at Trish. “You’re not getting one of your crazy ideas again, are you?”

“What do you mean, crazy idea?” Trish asks innocently.

Jessica rolls her eyes. “You have that Trish Walker, Girl Reporter look in your eye. It’s unsettling.”

“Well, if nobody else is going to do anything about it, I don’t see what a little investigative journalism could hurt,” Trish says, pouting.

“I mean, at least let me tag along this time. I could be the muscle.”

“You wouldn’t be very effective muscle if you kept rolling your eyes at me.”

“If I pinky promise not to?” Jessica snarks.

“About that,” says another voice, and then Christine Everhart slides into the other side of the table. “Trish Walker, right?”

“That’s me,” Trish says, making a face. “We’ve met?”

“I’ve seen you at the bar a few times,” says Christine with a shrug. “And I listen to your podcast. Couldn’t help but overhear your talking about tracking down the culprit of whoever did that photo thing.”

“Yeah,” Trish nods. “I mean, it’s awful, and I’m not sure how much the mall cops can do about it without proof or anything.”

“Well, I happen to be an investigative journalist myself,” replies Christine. “Would you be interested in collaborating on this story? You could do a segment on your podcast and I could do one on my blog.”

Trish’s eyes light up. “I’d be incredibly interested.”

“Aw, it’s love at first sight,” says Jessica with a smirk.

“Don’t be snippy,” Trish says, sounding pretty snippy herself.

“I’m not.” Jessica runs her hand down Trish’s arm. “It’s just funny watching you with other news people or whatever.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Christine says, once they’ve pooled all their information (which isn’t much). “These are decent prints, but not ridiculously quality. We should try looking at self-printing shops.”

Trish nods. “Is there one nearby? This doesn’t exactly strike me as the plan of a mastermind who’d cover their tracks well or go to any effort.”

Christine snorts and replies, “There’s a Kinko’s down the street, I’m pretty sure.”

Five minutes later they’re talking with a bored-looking young guy who says in a monotone, “Yeah, those were ordered by a really tall guy, long dark hair, long face? Really pale. Had a weird grin.”

“Uh-huh,” Trish says, typing the information in her phone.

“I remember ‘cause we don’t normally do, y’know, pictures like that but I think he might’ve paid somebody off.” The guy shrugs. “Whatever. I get paid the same either way.”

“Great, thank you,” says Christine, flashing him her most fake-genuine smile as they turn to leave.

“Well, that helps, maybe,” Trish says, frowning at her phone. “Tall guy, dark hair, long face. Definitely a mall employee if he was there early enough to do that before…?”

Christine nods. “Ooh, good point. Now I guess...we should head back and see if there are any more clues or leads.”

They haven’t been looking very long when Clint walks past, stopping to ask, “Whatcha doing?”

“Investigating the photo mystery from earlier,” Christine explains. “I don’t suppose you know anything?”

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But Raina hangs out with Lorelei a lot, and Loki follows Lorelei around a lot, and he’s definitely the kind of petty asshole who would do something like this.” Clint shrugs. “I don’t have any proof, just a feeling.”

“I… which one is he, again?” Trish says apologetically. “I’m still trying to get everyone over here figured out.”

“He works at Hot Topic and fancies himself an anarchist,” says Christine, rolling her eyes. “He thought it’d be funny to go off on a sexist rant at me, once. It wasn’t. Actually...” She pauses. “That Kinko’s guy basically described him.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Trish says. “Has he been known to stir shit up around here?”

Clint laughs. “Tried, anyway. He’s a giant asshole but he’s also super incompetent.”

“Well, well,” Trish murmurs. “I think we have a number one suspect.”

 

* * *

 

“Skye,” Trish calls as she and Christine enter the Apple Store, “Skye, we need help.”

“What’s up?” Skye asks.

“Do you know how to trace a phone number?”

“Probably. What’s it for?” Skye glances over at Fitz. “Hey, I’m taking a break.” Fitz nods and goes back to helping the customer in front of him.

“Long story short, it might help us catch whoever put those pictures of Raina all over the mall,” says Christine.

“Basically we need you to get a hold of Raina and see if she’s had any suspicious phone calls or anything lately,” Trish says. “Because if she has, that’d be an easy line to who might have done this.”

Skye’s nodding. “Okay, let’s head outside and I’ll give her a call.”

A few minutes later, Skye is tapping at her phone, and then she says, “Okay, so this number belongs to Loki Odinson. Damn. That explains a lot.”

“Well, shit,” Trish says, “suspicion confirmed.”

“Raina said the guy that called her from this number was like, offering her a ton of out-of-state jobs,” says Skye. “For the alleged weed store’s corporate division, which is totally not a thing, it’s unfranchised.”

Christine snorts. “Not much of a planner, is he?”

“Clint suggested the photos might’ve been Loki,” Trish muses. “I’m guessing there’s a cause for contention there that I’m not aware of?”

That makes Skye laugh. “It’s probably that Loki wants to bang Lorelei, but Lorelei’s banging Raina and some other people. So that totally means he needs to get Raina out of the way, ‘cause, y’know, logic.”

“The other people are less of a threat?” Trish asks, just to clarify.

“I guess they don’t stick around as long. Lorelei basically has a bunch of one-night-stands with dudes and then fucks off.” Skye shrugs. “It works for her. And I think she and Raina do it pretty periodically, so I guess that pisses him off more? I dunno.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Trish scoffs. “Thank you for helping with that, Skye.” To Christine she adds, “Mind if I go check the twerp out? I want to see him in his natural habitat.”

“Not at all,” laughs Christine.

“If you’ve had a run-in, it might be better for you to wait outside,” Trish says. “Or would that make it better?”

“Oh, I don’t care what he thinks or says,” Christine replies. “I’ll go where I want.”

 

* * *

 

“Hi,” Trish calls out innocently, walking into Hot Topic and glancing around.

Loki, who seems to be the only employee in the (empty) store, ignores her.

Trish hums in annoyance, walking over to the display of Studio Ghibli merchandise and examining some of it. Christine, behind her, glances around nonchalantly. When Loki still shows no signs of acknowledging them, Trish coughs loudly.

Loki pointedly keeps rearranging shirts.

“I’m looking for Alice in Wonderland merchandise?” Trish says, louder still.

Loki stands up and, without turning around, points and grunts, “over there, with the Disney.”

“Over… oh, okay,” Trish says, her voice still theatrically raised. “Is there any more on the website, or is it what you have out here?”

“Dunno,” says Loki.

Trish raises an eyebrow at Christine. Christine says, “Well, I guess you only know everything when it suits you?”

 

* * *

 

“Really, it’s a classic case of the friendzone gone wrong,” Trish says into her microphone. “Boy wants girl. Girl is otherwise occupied, with a different girl no less. Boy proceeds to launch a smear campaign on his rival, attempting to publicly shame her, objectify her, and ruin her reputation all at once, all by invading her personal privacy. And for what? I can’t think of any woman who would see someone tear even just a friend of theirs apart like this, then run into that someone’s arms eagerly and shun the wronged party. Even ignoring the motivations for it, leaking someone’s personal photographs or information is a clear violation, and the only good thing that’s come of this morning’s debacle is the knowledge that at least in this town, in this mall community, people are going to take the side of the one whose privacy has been attacked.”

“That’s for sure,” says Christine. “I shudder to think of the response this kind of situation gets in a less accepting environment.”

“Once again, I’m joined today by Christine Everhart, and you’ve been listening to Trish Talk,” says Trish. “All opinions, no bullshit.” She ends the recording and turns around to grin at Christine. “I’d say that went well. I’m going to text Jess real quick so she can give the secret internet a heads-up.”

Christine nods. “Good idea. Thanks for having me, that was fun.”

“Of course!” Trish exclaims. “I think we actually make a pretty good team. If you ever wanna team up for a story again…”

“I’d love that.” Christine holds out her hand with a playful grin. “Nice working with you, Trish Walker.”

Trish takes that hand, giggling. “You too, Christine Everhart.”

 

* * *

 

“Look at this,” Loki’s saying to Ian, who he’s managed to make into a captive audience. “Here she is, sitting with _gangsters_ , with the _leader_ in fact, and then hours later he was found dead. Surely you can agree, that can’t be a coincidence?”

“Uh,” says Ian. “Gangsters live a fairly high-risk lifestyle, don’t they?”

“I suppose,” says Loki with a casual shrug. “But all the same, considering her... _other_ activities, I find this very suspicious.”

“Other?” Ian asks. “You mean working at a store that sells accessories for a legal drug, sometimes partaking of that drug, and having appeared in pinup photographs that may or may not have been intended for public consumption?”

Loki scoffs. “I think that’s a very kind way of putting it. Far be it from me to make assumptions, but I do believe she was instrumental in his death.”

Just then Carina, who happens to be headed out, catches Ian’s eye and beelines over to the table. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to the store, Loki?” she says.

“I’ve got a minute or two more,” replies Loki. “Have you seen these photographs?”

Carina frowns. “No?”

Loki produces them with a flourish. “Did you know your friend has dealings of some sort with gangsters, and she was seen with one mere hours before his dead body was found?”

“What are you implying?” she asks softly, clenching her fists.

“Well, I can’t be sure she had anything to do with his death, but the evidence is there,” replies Loki. “After all, she consorted with criminals. Murder’s not so far down the ladder.”

Carina takes a deep breath, then pulls out her phone and looks something up. “So consorting with criminals makes you a criminal?” she asks. She shoves her phone in his face: there’s a picture of her - younger, scrawnier, not exactly happy to be there, but her - next to her now-dead criminal uncle. Her voice is significantly louder when she speaks again. “ _Then I guess I’m a criminal too._ ”

Loki looks a bit startled, and is about to open his mouth when Sif, who was watching from the sidelines, leaps in and says, “Carina, come with me, I have to ask you a question” before gently steering her away.

Carina is still seething when they get to safety in front of Sephora, but she manages to sound mildly polite when she says, “I’m sorry, he’s just behaving so horribly it set me off.”

“I understand,” says Sif. “Loki is...well, he can be very trying. What’s he done now?”

“He found some picture of Raina with some man he claims is a gangster and he’s trying to make it out like she murdered the man,” Carina mumbles. “It’s all made-up, of course. He’s just being presumptuous and horrible.”

“Gods,” groans Sif. “I wonder what brought this on? Not that it matters, it’s horrible. Will you be alright if I step away to make a call?”

“Yes,” Carina says. “I’ll just go look at eye shadow. That helps sometimes.” She wanders into the store, worrying her bottom lip.

Sif watches her for a moment before pulling out her phone and calling Thor. “Hello? Yes, have you heard what your brother is up to?”

 

* * *

 

Loki steps out of the security office, expression somewhere between embarrassment, anxiety, and regret. Fury hadn’t pulled any punches, and his ears are still ringing. He let him out because an important phone call had come up, but he’s due back in a few minutes for more of the same.

Lorelei is sitting on the nearest bench, staring at him coolly. “I’m surprised you made it out in one piece,” she says flatly.

He tosses his head. “Wasn’t so bad. You’ve heard one chastising, you’ve heard them all. And you’re here because…?”

“Well, I had to hear for myself how you justify this,” she retorts.

“I couldn’t stand by and watch you consort with... _that_ kind of person,” he says. “So I decided to bring to light some of the less savory elements of her past.”

“Exactly what do you _mean_?” Lorelei snaps.

“The lewd photographs. The cavorting with hard criminals. And so forth.”

“Would you think less of me if you knew that I’d modeled nude before, too?” she asks icily.

He sputters. “I...I…”

“Well,” Lorelei mutters, and she’s the second one to pull a phone out to shove in his face today. “Do you?”

Loki’s too busy staring wide-eyed at the pictures on her phone to answer.

“In fact, you might say mine are even more lewd,” she presses. “Look, there’s my ass. There’s my tits, complete with nipples. There’s my vagina and all of its _hair_.”

Loki curls his lip. “Er, don’t take this the wrong way, but was there something...wrong with it?”

“What, with my vagina?” She’s practically yelling by now.

“Yes, with the, ah, hair, is that an issue with-”

“With what?” she exclaims. “Shockingly, that’s how vaginas look naturally. Vaginas have hair, that’s completely normal. You managed to make it this long without realizing there’s such a thing as hair _down there_?”

Flustered, he quickly says, “I’ve never seen it, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s no surprise, considering the current standard is having girls waxed to a prepubescent shine,” she mutters, “but it’s incredibly backward. Men have pubic hair, too. It never once occurred to you?”

Loki mumbles something that’s meant to be another excuse, and just then Thor comes over, frowning. “I hear you have made some deeply questionable choices,” he says. “I’m disappointed, brother.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki doesn’t comment, even though Thor waits a moment. “Very well, don’t talk to me. I’ve come to retrieve you. Mother is very displeased with your conduct.”

As they leave, Lorelei has to work to keep from laughing out loud.


	89. we can always be chasing the sun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that it's spring, various people and dogs visit the dog park.

“Hello, Kara!” calls Drax, who comes up to her with Swift trotting in front of him.

“Drax, hi!” Kara exclaims. She’s sitting on a bench with Autumn, on her leash, at her feet, looking around shyly, but she’s definitely glad of the human company. “How are you?”

“Very well, thank you! And yourself?” Drax asks. Swift, even though she’s about a third of Autumn’s size, comes over to sniff at her anyway.

“Good,” she replies. “Better, which is good.” She glances down at the dogs, giggling.

Drax nods. “I was quite worried when Skye told me what had happened. I’m glad you recovered her with no trouble. Is there anything you need?”

She shakes her head. “I mean, I think everything is finally settling down. Hopefully.”

“Wonderful!” Glancing at the dogs, Drax grins. “I think they are getting along well.”

“Yeah,” Kara agrees. “I haven’t… really taken her out like this, especially…”

“That is understandable,” says Drax. “But she would be safe here, if you wanted to let them play together off the leashes.”

She bites her lip. “You think?”

He nods. “There are many people and it is an enclosed space. Besides, we will be watching them the entire time. And I will crush the skull of any Hydra member who shows his face.”

“I’m not sure if you’re being hyperbolic,” Kara says with a nervous laugh.

“I am not,” he says. “But I will warn you before I do it so you can leave, if you would rather not watch.”

“That’s very considerate,” Kara murmurs.

“I have been told that not everyone enjoys violence,” he says with a shrug.

“Honestly? I’m not sure how I’d feel about it anymore,” she says. “In that situation. Part of me wants to say I’d be horrified. Part of me feels like that might not be true.”

Drax nods understandingly. “Well, I will give you the option of looking away.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“So are we going to let them off the leash?”

Kara hesitates, but she nods, unclipping Autumn’s leash and giving her a kiss. “No place safer than here, I guess,” she says.

Drax does the same for Swift, who immediately drops into a play bow and then scampers off, Autumn at her heels. “They will be fine,” he promises.

“I just - I don’t want to let her out of my sight, y’know?” Kara mumbles.

“Understandable.” He smiles. “Would a hug help? Karen tells me that hugs help when people are sad.”

“A hug would be awesome,” she says, managing a smile.

Drax opens his arms, and that’s all the prompting Kara needs to practically launch herself at him, burrowing against his chest. He hugs her snugly and says, “Let me know if I am squeezing too tightly. I’m not always sure.”

“You’re great,” she mumbles happily.

“Thank you. I think you are as well,” he replies with a grin. “Tell me when you are done.”

They stay like that for a little while until a voice calls out, “Hey there!”

Kara pulls away, grinning. “Hey, yourselves!”

Bucky, Sam, Steve, Sharon, and Natasha come over, with the three dogs beside or in front of them. Callie immediately yelps and tries to jump on Kara - to which Bucky says, “Callie, stop that!” and pulls her down - while Apollo and Artemis are more calmly nosing at Drax.

“I don’t mind her enthusiasm, it’s sweet,” Kara says. “How are things?”

“Pretty good,” says Bucky. “I mean, are you talking us, or...y’know, _things_?”

“Kinda both,” Kara admits.

“We’re good,” says Sam with a smile. “Walking these furry monsters, y’know.”

Bucky smirks. “And you might be happy to know that Ward’s still in custody till his hearing. Apparently Clemons argued that he was a menace and a ‘threat to public safety.’”

“They’re very sweet furry monsters, though,” Kara giggles. “And - good. Good, I’m… he is.”

“I’d say the odds of him actually getting off when it goes to court are slim to none, too,” Steve adds.

Natasha snorts. “Animal cruelty is pretty much a slam dunk.”

“Especially on top of all of the other bullshit,” Sharon chimes in. “I pity his defense lawyer, unless they’re also a Nazi.”

“I hope they are not!” Drax chimes in.

“Well, if they’re a Nazi, they’re probably not a very good lawyer,” Sharon muses, “but then again, I doubt very sincerely that a non-Nazi lawyer would actually give it a hundred percent in this case.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No lawyers in Hydra, I promise. None of them are smart enough.”

“They definitely didn’t seem like it,” Kara agrees. “They’re like a bunch of overgrown, angry bros with guns and bigotry.”

“Pretty much,” he agrees. “So how are you doing?”

“Pretty all right,” Kara says. “Autumn is frolicking and making friends, so that’s good.”

“Good.” Natasha grins. “Hey James, we should probably let these guys off the leash too, huh?”

“Probably.” Bucky leans down to unclip Callie’s collar. “There you go, tornado.” Callie immediately sprints off toward where Swift and Autumn are playing. Apollo and Artemis follow suit at a slower pace.

“Is this what normal people feel like watching their kids at the playground?” Sam asks with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” Steve says, shrugging.

Natasha rolls her eyes fondly and then spots Angie and Peggy across the lawn. “Hey, you two,” she calls, waving.

“Hi!” chirps Angie, skipping over and smiling widely. “Fancy seeing you all here today.”

Peggy follows, with a light blond dog. “It is rather sociable here.”

“Oh my god, Aunt Peggy, is this the new baby?” Sharon croons, getting on her knees to give Peggy’s dog scritches.

“She’s enough not a baby that we haven’t had to teach her basic commands,” Peggy smirks, “but yes, this is her. Everyone, meet Cody.”

Bucky holds out his hand for Cody to sniff. “She’s adorable.”

“She really is,” Steve agrees. “What kind is she, do you know?”

Peggy shrugs cheerfully. “Most likely she’s part German Shepard, and possibly part Chow-Chow? Look at her tongue, when you get a chance, it’s sort of delightful.”

“Does she like fetch?” Sam pulls out one of Callie’s rubber balls from his pocket.

“She loves it!” Angie says. “She’ll play it all day if you let her.”

Sam shows Cody the ball before tossing it and grinning as she tears after it. “I see what you mean.”

Kara shifts her weight, not exactly sure what to say, and Steve, of course, notices. “Hey, Kara,” he says, “this is Sharon’s aunt Peggy and her girlfriend Angie.”

“They’ve told us so much about you,” Peggy says warmly, smiling at Kara.

“Only good things!” adds Angie. “Promise.”

“Hello,” Kara says, a bit shyly. “I mean, I know _of_ you because _Fury Road_ , but that aside, I’ve heard about you guys, too. It’s nice to meet you. Formally.”

Angie offers her hand. “I mean, they told us about the terrible stuff you’ve been through too. I’m really sorry about it.”

Kara takes it, using her other to push hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she says. “I’m making it through, a little at a time. I think that’s all that could be expected right now.”

“That’s a very brave thing to do, even when it seems small,” Peggy says knowingly. “You’re doing very well, from what I hear.”

“I’m trying, anyway,” Kara murmurs. “Thank you. I mean, these guys have been a big help.” With a nod toward Steve and the others.

“Shucks,” Steve says with a wry smile. “Well, that’s what friends are for.”

“And we like you,” adds Sam. “You’re easy to be friends with.”

Kara goes a bit pink. “Thank you,” she mumbles shyly.

“So you looked pretty cozy in that hug,” says Angie playfully.

“Oh, I mean - Drax is a friend, he gives good hugs,” Kara says with a shrug.

“He seems it,” Peggy offers, rolling her eyes though without any malice.

“So are you up for another hug?” Angie offers. “I’m told mine are pretty good too.”

“I’d be willing,” Kara says, smiling sheepishly. “Still haven’t found out what too many hugs is like.”

Angie makes a delighted noise and says, “C’mere!”

Kara approaches, shy as anything, and stands close enough for Angie to reach.

Angie gently wraps around her, careful not to come on too strong. “I’m a hugger,” she says cheerfully.

“She really is,” Peggy says dryly.

“It’s nice of you,” Kara murmurs.

After a long minute, Angie steps back to give Kara space. “If you ever need anything, give us a call,” she says. “Our door is open.”

“Thanks,” Kara says. “I appreciate it. You guys seem really cool.”

Cody caught and returned the ball long before this, but seems more interested now in exploring and starts to amble toward the bushes. “We should go and keep an eye on her,” Peggy says apologetically, raising an eyebrow at Angie.

“Yeah, probably,” says Angie with a grin. “See you all later?”

There’s a chorus of goodbyes as they follow their dog, who seems to be heading towards a pair of dogs on leashes.

“Fancy seeing you here, Daniel,” Peggy calls, waving.

“Didn’t know you two had a dog,” Daniel calls back.

Peggy giggles and nods to where Cody is sniffing around some plants. “She’s newly adopted and comfortable enough now we’ve decided to start socializing her,” she explains.

He nods. “Well, I’d like to be formally introduced, but don’t call her away from exploring just for my sake,” he says. “Hey, Angie.”

“Hey!” she says, grinning. “And hey to you too, Violet. You two look cute together.”

Violet turns her attention fully to the conversation (she’d been about halfway listening, given the need to keep an eye on the collie pup beside her). “Thanks,” she chirps. “You two, too. Very domestic.”

“Aw shucks, we try.” Angie kneels down to scratch the collie’s ears. “And who’s this cutie?”

“This is Dinah,” Violet says, voice honeyed. “She’s also newly adopted. And newly born.” A chuckle. “Well, she’s not a newborn, but she’s still a bit of a baby. Five months.”

“She’s precious,” Peggy says. “Do she and Jordan get on all right?”

“Jordan gets on with everyone,” Daniel says, grinning. “She’s very relaxed.”

“Dinah’s a bit more rambunctious, but they’re figuring it out,” Violet adds, looping the leash around her wrist and reaching for her phone to call up a picture of the two dogs napping together.

Angie coos. “Adorable! Cody seems to like mostly everything, but she doesn’t bark or jump or anything.”

“Well, she barks at the doorbell sometimes,” Peggy amends, “but that’s to be expected.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agrees. “A proper doggy playdate might be in order.”

That makes Angie giggle. “Easier to arrange than playdates for kids, probably.”

“Much more likely they’re going to find something to bond over,” Violet chuckles.

“ _Hellooo_ ,” Ana croons, waving as she comes to join the others.

Angie opens her mouth to say hello, but then interrupts herself with the giggles as a large Bernese Mountain Dog puppy bounds over next to Ana, tail waving enthusiastically. At the other end of his leash is Jarvis, who is panting and seems less enthusiastic about this. “Ah, yes, hello!” he says when he notices the assembled company. “He finally decided the squirrel was a lost cause,” he adds to Ana.

“Perhaps it was more the journey than the destination,” Ana replies airily. “I see there are some new furry faces?”

Peggy laughs. “Yours looks still young, too,” she says.

“Oh, he is, but Blaze has made the dog park rounds before,” Ana explains. “Your pretty blond - what breed is she? Or he? - is new _here_.”

“We think she’s some kind of shepherd-Chow Chow mix,” replies Angie, “but y’know, who really knows. Isn’t she cute though?”

“Darling,” Ana promises. “May I?” She moves to pet Cody.

Angie nods. “Go ahead!” Cody’s tail waves lazily and she smiles in a doggy way.

Ana gives Cody scritches, cooing affectionately, and Jarvis comments, “She’s very well-behaved. Blaze is...well…we’re working on it.”

“Seems very high-spirited,” Violet offers.

“They’re all like this when they’re young, it would seem,” Ana says. “That’s just the nature of the breed. I don’t mind it, though.”

“Does that go double for you?” Daniel asks Jarvis, smirking.

“Double might be a strong sentiment,” replies Jarvis, rolling his eyes and smiling. “But he’s certainly charming, when he isn’t trying to climb trees to get at squirrels.”

“Does that happen often?” Peggy asks.

“Squirrels are his mortal enemy,” Jarvis says. “So yes, fairly frequently.”

“We should invite them to the doggy playdate, too,” Violet says to Daniel. “Let them scamper in a squirrel-free environment.”

“Of course,” Daniel agrees.

“What a charming, normal thing to do,” Ana coos.

“Good day!” calls someone cheerfully. The someone is Hank, and plodding next to him is Prospero, his enormous Newfoundland. “I see the dog park is a popular establishment.”

“Rather,” Peggy replies wryly. “I think yours is enthralling the little ones.” Sure enough, Dinah and Blaze - and to a lesser extent Cody - are staring at Prospero in wonder or possibly terror.

Prospero, indifferent to the effect he’s having on them, leans over to sniff at Dinah curiously.

“He has that effect on most people too,” chuckles Hank. “I suppose that would happen when you’re the size of a pony.”

“He seems sweet, though,” Violet offers.

“Oh, he is. My students love him.” Hank pats Prospero, who glances back to give his owner a doggy smile before continuing to inspect his new acquaintances. “I sometimes bring him to office hours, with posted notice to accommodate those with allergies or phobias, of course. I find when I do, more students take advantage of them.”

“What an inspired idea,” Ana says.

“Have you any training tips for larger dogs?” Jarvis asks. “This fellow is meant to get much larger, as I understand.” He gestures to Blaze, who looks as if he’s thinking about dashing off.

“Actually, I do,” says Hank. “Why don’t we go discuss it?”

 

* * *

 

“No,” says Clint sternly, when Lucky stops to stare longingly at the pizza truck across the street. “No more pizza for you, you little bastard.”

“Aw, you should give him some treat, to make up for it or whatever,” Laura suggests.

“The dog park _is_ a treat,” says Clint with a shrug. “He gets to hang out with other dogs or whatever.”

“Well, it will probably be more interesting for him than napping with the kitten,” she decides.

“True, true.” Clint pauses and leans down to tie his shoe. He considers wrapping the leash around his wrist, then decides against it.

Unfortunately for him, Lucky has been waiting for something like this.

The next thing Clint knows, his dog is heading straight for the pizza truck (thank god it’s not a busy time of day and there aren’t any cars coming) and leaping up on his hind legs to grab a slice that’s sitting on the counter. “Shit!” Clint stands up and runs after him, not bothering to finish tying his shoe.

Laura bursts out laughing and, instead of helping, gets her phone out to start filming. First she films Clint running, then she pans across the park to get some of the other reactions. Kara and Audrey, sitting on a bench as their respective dogs frolic nearby, seem to be fascinated; Natasha’s holding up her phone to (most likely) also film it, grinning maniacally; Sharon’s cool queer aunts seem astonished and their dog seems to want to run after Lucky, just to play.

Finally Clint manages to chase the dog down, pay the pizza vendor for the stolen slice, and drag Lucky back, panting. “When we get back, you’re under house arrest,” he grumbles.


	90. so let me thank you for your time and try to not waste any more of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Jane have a dinner party for some of their friends. Loki is himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for anti-religious, mild anti-Semitism, racism.

“Hello,” says Pietro as Jane opens the door. “We’re probably early.”

Jane makes an effort not to look at her watch. “You’re fine,” she says, smiling (albeit a bit nervously). “Come in! Get… comfortable.”

“I’ll be out in a moment!” calls Thor cheerfully from the kitchen. “I’m just slicing cucumbers for the _agurksalat!_ ”

Wanda blinks. “Is that some kind of salad?”

“It’s a cucumber salad,” Jane nods. “It’s very good.”

“I see.” Wanda glances over and rolls her eyes at Pietro, who is looking over every piece of furniture carefully and touching the seats. “Must you?”

He shrugs and says, “Yes, I have to see which is most comfortable.”

“Hopefully, it’s all pretty comfortable,” Jane says with an anxious smile. “Broken in, but not… too broken in.” She shrugs.

As Pietro is still inspecting, Wanda looks over and returns her smile hesitantly. “We brought wine,” she says, holding the paper bag out awkwardly. “White? Raina said that would be good for a party. She helped us pick it out, I don’t know much about wine.”

Jane takes the bag. “Honestly, I don’t know much about it either,” she admits with a smirk. “But I’m sure it’s nice. Let me…” She puts the bottle on the dinner table, nodding with satisfaction. “We’ll give that a try over dinner.”

“Good.” Wanda tilts her head. “How is work?”

“It’s all right,” Jane says. “Quiet, mostly, which I like. You?”

“The same. I saw online that a thrift shop in England had so many used copies of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ that they built a fort, and I showed it to Ian and suggested we try to do the same, at least a small fort. He thought it was funny but impractical.”

“You could build it with more than one book,” suggests Pietro.

“I think the point is that most books want to be read, but that one doesn’t?” Jane wrinkles her nose. “I mean, that’s what I’m getting from that story.”

Wanda laughs. “I suppose. Or perhaps that the people who are reading it do not want to read it more than once. Either way, we aren’t quite so overrun with it.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Jane excuses herself to answer. That it’s Melinda and Sif is something of a relief. “Hey,” she says, waving them in.

“Hi,” says Melinda, glancing around the apartment. “So who all is, ah, meant to come tonight?”

“Well, you guys,” Jane says, waving around the apartment, “Helen, Darcy and, uh, hers… I think Loki’s supposed to show up.” She tries not to sound as annoyed by that as she is.

Sif snorts. “Can’t really be surprised,” she murmurs to Melinda, who smirks.

“Not Fandral?” Melinda asks, barely keeping the disdain from her tone (which makes Sif snicker).

“No, he declined to attend,” calls Thor. “Apparently he had some sort of photoshoot this afternoon and wanted to keep his evening open in case an opportunity presented itself, as he explained it.”

“Oh,” says Pietro, looking interested. “Does he also take sexual photographs?”

Wanda puts her head in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Thor laughs and replies, “He would take that as a compliment, truth be told.”

“He would,” Jane agrees, rolling her eyes.

Darcy promptly barges into the apartment without knocking, one hand in Rogue’s and the other waving Ian along (Ian is following with an overlarge, clearly grocery-store-bought bouquet in a vase). “Happy evening!” she calls.

“We do have a door for a reason,” Jane snarks, though fondly.

“And if it had been locked, I would have respected that,” Darcy shrugs. “Hey, all!”

Rogue rolls her eyes fondly and waves. “‘Sup.”

“Flowers?” Ian says awkwardly, offering the bouquet. “For… the table?”

“Thanks,” Jane replies, moving the flowers onto the table next to the wine. “Sweet thought.”

“It seemed the polite thing to do,” Ian says, beaming.

Darcy pats his head.

“Are you satisfied with yourself?” Jane asks her.

“I really am,” Darcy says. “What’s on the menu for tonight?”

“Lemon chicken piccata, _risengryn grod_ or rice pudding, _agurksalat_ or cucumber salad, and Jane has made us brownies for dessert,” says Thor, finally coming to stand in the kitchen doorway.

“Fancy,” Darcy says.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of loud arguing, and then Helen and Loki enter simultaneously, Loki saying “-don’t see why you have a problem with it, she’s an android-”

“Because androids made in Japan look white?” Helen interrupts, sounding annoyed.

“They might!” snaps Loki.

“Brother!” says Thor, coming over to embrace him (and interrupt the fight). “I’m glad you’ve arrived! And you as well, Helen,” he says, turning to her with a smile.

“I’ll be glad when tonight is done, so Jane stops worrying about it,” Helen says but fondly.

“I’m not worrying about it,” Jane says, too quickly.

“She’s been worrying about it,” Helen stage-whispers.

“Don’t worry, my love,” says Thor, leaning down to kiss Jane on the cheek. “We’ll have a good evening regardless of what happens, as we will be surrounded by friends.”

Sif laughs, but it’s meant fondly. “Do you try to come across like a Hallmark card, or is that accidental?”

Jane grins up at her boyfriend. “I’m not complaining.”

“Nor am I,” says Thor, winking at Sif.

“I’m vegan now,” chimes in Loki, glaring at everyone. This is a conclusion he came to on the way to their apartment.

“Now, as opposed to…?” Ian asks, immediately looking like he wishes he hadn’t.

“I’ve decided the meat and animal byproducts industry is cruel and inhumane,” explains Loki with a roll of his eyes.

Thor frowns. “I had not heard about this. Was it a recent decision? I know that on Sunday evening Mother prepared lamb, which you ate two portions of.”

Loki sniffs and replies, “Very recent, yes.”

“Well, I suppose you can eat the _agurksalat_ ,” says Thor, “and perhaps I could find some beans to make a bowl of chili for you.” He frowns. “I’m very sorry, had I known of your new dietary choices I would have prepared adequately.”

Darcy makes sure to have caught Jane’s eye before she rolls her own.

“I’ll make do, I suppose,” says Loki with a theatrical sigh. “I’m finding it somewhat difficult to find appropriate foods. I had buttered toast this morning for breakfast.”

“You know, butter is an animal byproduct,” Darcy says.

Loki narrows his eyes. “Yes, well. As I said, it’s difficult.”

Jane is starting to look either nervous or pissed off, so Darcy very quickly changes the subject. “So, about Rey’s parents!” she exclaims, mostly toward the guests who hadn’t been involved in the last discussion.

“What about them?” asks Wanda.

“Who do you think they are?” Darcy asks.

“Oh. I thought it was obvious that Luke is her father?”

“Yeah, but also no, according to some people on the internet,” Darcy says. “There are debates. It’s a thing.”

“Is this a dinner party or gossip hour?” Loki asks.

“Yes, please do sit down,” Thor says. “The food is almost ready, give me just a moment.” He disappears into the kitchen again.

“I’m not sure what he expects us to discuss over dinner, if not interpersonal matters,” Helen mutters, mostly to Melinda and Sif, as they sit.

Sif smirks. “He expects attention, honestly. Apparently his stunt with Raina proved ineffective.”

Once they’re all seated and the food is on the table, Thor begins to pass it around. “I’ve started your chili,” he says to Loki. “It should be ready soon.”

Loki takes an abnormally large portion of salad and says nothing.

“So anyway, Luke is the most prevalent theory,” Darcy continues loudly, “but some people are saying that can’t be true.”

“What would the alternative be?” Helen asks.

“ _So_ many alternatives,” Darcy says.

Thor coughs. “Jane, why don’t you talk about your latest project?”

“Uh,” Jane says, very intelligently, “which… one?”

“Er, the one you’ve mentioned,” says Thor, a bit awkwardly.

“Oh, the… thing,” Helen chimes in. “For Dr. Selvig’s…?”

Jane nods eagerly, immediately launching into four and a half straight minutes of babble that is by and large incomprehensible to everyone at the table.

“Riveting,” says Loki once she’s finished. “Is my chili finished yet?”

Thor stands up and hurries to the kitchen.

“It’ll do,” Loki adds with a shrug. “Mother’s is probably better.”

“I’m sure he’s trying,” Helen says.

“I’m not sure how you’d know,” replies Loki. “Have you ever eaten chili?”

“Yes,” Helen says doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

“ _American_ chili?” he asks, somewhat accusatory.

“I assume so, since it was eaten in America,” she replies archly.

He shrugs. “I suppose I assumed you’d want to eat food you were familiar with.”

“Chili isn’t exactly a secret.”

“From your own country, I mean,” he says, awkwardly. “Er. Dumplings and rice and such.”

Helen’s eyebrow goes all the way up. “And _such_?”

“We haven’t ordered Chinese in a while,” he replies with a shrug.

“I’m Korean,” she seethes. To Thor she says, “Is your brother always this racist, or is her just trying to be an annoyance?”

“I’m not racist,” says Loki before Thor can say anything. “I despise all races equally.”

“But you despise some more equally than others?” Wanda asks sweetly.

Darcy snickers behind her hand.

Thor coughs awkwardly. “Brother, I am sure you did not intend offense.”

“Oh, I didn’t intend anything,” says Loki blithely. “But I’m sorry if you were offended.”

Helen clears her throat and reaches for the bottle of wine. “This is good,” she tells Wanda.

Wanda smiles shyly. “Thank you. My friend helped me pick it out, she knows things...about wine.”

Rogue snickers. “I’m sure she does. I like her taste.”

“She certainly does have interesting tastes,” says Loki.

Helen rests her elbow on the table and leans forward with her head in her hand. “Care to elaborate?”

Loki purses his lips. “If it’s the friend I’m thinking of, she’s certainly...not discreet.”

Glaring at him, Wanda says, “Would you have that opinion if you hadn’t recently tried to ruin her social life?”

“I don’t know why you’re getting involved,” he says with a shrug. “It doesn’t concern you or any of your...people.”

“Shit,” Darcy murmurs.

Wanda grits her teeth. “What do you mean by that?”

“Yes,” says Pietro, who is clenching his fork a bit too tightly. “What _do_ you mean?”

“You know.” Loki waves his hand dismissively. “I think it’s absurd to define yourself by a religion, since they’re all unbelievable anyway.”

Something not unlike a hissing noise escapes Wanda’s mouth, and she feels Pietro put his hand on her arm. She takes a breath before saying coldly, “We’re not particularly devout, but it was an important part of our father’s life and we do what we do to honor him. It’s a part of us, and you will not be cynical about it just because Tyler Durden told you to be.” She doesn’t actually know if he’s seen _Fight Club,_ but from what Raina’s told her about it, it’s a good bet.

Jane nods, glaring at Loki, and Darcy says, “One, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who brought religion into this discussion at all, dude. And two, isn’t Tyler Durden basically a god to counterculture white guys anyway? Or V or whatever?”

Loki opens his mouth to answer, but Thor cuts him off. “I think it would be best if you left, Loki,” he says, mouth tight and eyes sad. “These comments are unkind and unnecessary.”

Without another word, Loki stands up and slinks off, glaring all the way.

“So,” Darcy says, considerably more awkwardly, “about Rey’s parents.”

“Yes,” says Sif, also awkward. “I thought I heard something about her parents not being in Episode VIII?”

“Well, okay, they’re not _discussing_ it in Episode VIII,” Darcy declares. “But they’re still totally going to be in it. Or at least one of them is. Probably, if you buy into the popular theory. Which I totally do.”

“I am sorry for what he said,” Thor interrupts. “If I had known he would be difficult, I would have not invited him. Wanda, Pietro, Helen, Darcy, please accept my apology.”

“It isn’t your fault your brother is an asshole,” Helen says, shrugging.

Wanda nods. “Thank you, but I was not surprised.”

“It’s sweet you’re trying to make it better, though,” Darcy says, grinning somewhat ironically.

Thor shrugs. “He is my brother, and I invited him as well as the rest of you. I’d like to make things right, if I may.”

Jane stands up in a hurry. “I’m going to go get the brownies!” she exclaims.

“That sounds good,” says Rogue with a nod.

Helen waits for Jane to sit down again before crooning, “How very domestic of you.”

“I am the domestic one,” says Thor good-naturedly. “But Jane thought it might be nice for her to contribute to the meal as well.”

“They’re out of a box,” Jane admits, “but I tried.”

“How do we know they don’t have weed in them?” Darcy teases.

“They don’t have weed in them!” Jane snaps.

Wanda takes one and bites into it. “There’s no weed,” she says cheerfully. “I know what it smells like now. Also, it’s good!”

Pietro shoves an entire brownie into his mouth at once and, once he’s swallowed it, adds, “Raina often smells like it when she comes over after work. Cardboard Box doesn’t like it and will hide.”

“Cardboard Box?” Helen asks, tilting her head.

“Our cat,” explains Pietro. “That’s where he was born.”

“Uh huh,” says Melinda, smirking.

“There are weirder things to name a cat, I guess,” Darcy says with a cheerful shrug, grabbing three brownies for herself.

“Mine is called Mary Bennet,” Ian offers, nodding. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a piano for her to prance around on.”

“You’d already be a YouTube sensation if you did,” Darcy points out, because she would make it happen.

Once most of the brownies are gone, Thor leans over to kiss Jane on the cheek. “Very nice, my love, thank you.”

“Gross,” Darcy groans, grinning.

Jane turns her head to kiss Thor properly. “Thank _you_ ,” she murmurs.

“ _Gross_ ,” Darcy repeats.

 

* * *

 

Thor walks Sif and Melinda, the last of the guests to leave, out of the building. “Once again, I am sorry for Loki’s behavior,” he sighs. “Sif, I know you’re used to his ways, but Melinda is not.”

Melinda snorts. “I’ll live, I promise. Thanks, though.”

“Other than that, it went well, I think,” says Sif with a grin. “Jane didn’t have an aneurysm from hosting.”

Thor chuckles. “Yes, she was uncertain, but it did turn out nicely.”

As they’re leaving out the front entrance, he notices a shape huddled out by the curb. Frowning, he walks out to see what it is and recognizes Loki, hunched over and moping. “Brother,” he says gently, “I thought you had left.”

“I had to call Mother to pick me up,” grumbles Loki. “She and Father are at a dinner party and she can’t come until it’s over.”

“If you come up and apologize to Jane, I’m sure she would allow you to wait inside,” says Thor. “And there’s still some _agurksalat._ ”

“I don’t have anything to apologize for,” says Loki, still not looking at Thor.

Thor sighs. “Very well, I cannot force you. Goodnight, Loki.” He heads back inside, where Jane is clearing the table.

“Everyone get on their way okay?” Jane asks.

“Yes, mostly. As it turns out, Mother is otherwise occupied and could not pick up Loki immediately, and he is waiting on the curb.” Thor shakes his head. “I told him you might allow him to wait here if only he would apologize, but he refused.”

“Are you really surprised?”

“No, but I hoped perhaps he would see his cruelty and want to make amends.” Thor walks over to the living room and sits on the couch. “I am sorry once again for his behavior. I think I will not invite him here again for a long while.”

Jane sighs and curls up next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “That might be for the best.”

Thor puts his arm around her. “You were an excellent hostess, though.”

“And you were an incredible host,” she replies fondly.

“It was a successful evening,” he says, reaching up to stroke her hair. “Would you be amenable to watching something now? I think it would be relaxing.”

“Very amenable,” she agrees. “A nice way to end the evening.”

He smiles. “Wonderful! I shall pull up Netflix.”


	91. I learned quickly, perserverance stood between a cat and her new best friend, me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mall's GameStop closes a little early one evening to host a mall employee Mario Kart tournament. Some of the players have more confidence than skill.

“I’m pretty sure we didn’t say this was a dress-up game tournament,” says the curly-haired girl with the GameStop badge.

Bucky shrugs and grins. “It’s-a me, Mario!” he says in the worst Italian accent, pointing to his hat.

“No,” Natasha says with a shake of her head. Not that she looks any less silly with her giant stick-on mustache.

“Sometimes I don’t know how we let them out of the house,” Sharon sighs playfully.

“I think it’s charming,” says GameStop girl.

“Something like that, anyway,” Sharon says.

“So, how many of you are playing? Should I set up five controllers?”

“Nah, just me and Steve,” says Sam. “Those wimps are sitting out.”

Natasha sticks out her tongue at him (which is somewhat ineffective given the placement and size of the mustache). “Steve, you better kick his ass in-game for that.”

“We’ll see,” Steve says, shrugging amicably. He offers his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Steve. That’s Sam, Natasha, Bucky, and Sharon.”

“Bereet,” the employee offers. “I’ll also answer to Bee. Pleasure to meet you, everyone.” There’s a slight question in her voice, but only because she’s not sure what to assume here.

“We’re all fucking,” says Natasha bluntly, with a little wave.

Sam rolls his eyes. “And dating, too.”

“That’s fun, I assume,” Bereet says.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugs. “I mean, they’re all really weird, but y’know.”

“Says the man in the cartoon hat,” Sharon jokes.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t _also_ weird,” he adds with a grin.

Peter Quill ambles in and immediately makes a beeline for Bereet. “Hey there,” he says. “You new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you.”

“See you,” Natasha calls to Bereet, starting to herd her people away (while keeping an eye on their new acquaintance, because nobody deserves having to put up with Quill longer than necessary).

“New enough,” Bereet replies with a shrug.

“Peter Quill,” he says with a nod. “I’m pretty good at Mario Kart, not to brag. You?”

“I’m all right at it, but I’m just hosting,” she says. “I’m Bereet.”

“Huh, that’s a cool name. Where’s it from?”

She shrugs, smirking. “I’m almost positive my parents made it up,” she says. “I think they were trying to come up with something that vaguely sounded like science fiction.”

“Well, I like it.” Quill grins. “So what’s your favorite game?”

Before she can answer, she’s interrupted by Tony Stark, who wanders over and says, “Hey there, you’re looking startlingly attractive for this environment.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “As opposed to…?”

“I mean, I just don’t expect to see girls like you at GameStop,” he says, shrugging. “”So what’s _your_ Konami code?”

“And unfortunately, I expect to see guys like you here all the time,” she chirps, turning back to Quill to say, “I don’t feel right playing favorites when I’m on the job. Might be willing to give you a more thought-out answer later.”

Quill laughs. “Fair enough. Got a favorite console?”

Tony tries to get her attention again, but she’s having none of it, and finally he pouts and wanders toward where someone’s set up a folding table with a plate of cookies on it. Skye, Jemma, and Bobbi have set themselves up behind it.

“Hey there,” he says to Skye, even though he’s pretty sure she’s dating one or both of the other girls. Never know, though.

“Move along, fake geek boy,” says Skye, not looking up from her phone.

“Okay,” Tony says quickly, turning to Bobbi. She’s smirking, but her right leg’s in an obvious splint and there’s a crutch leaning against the back wall. He heard about how she got it and he admits, it’s pretty hot. “I hear you were a big hero,” he says casually.

Bobbi’s eyebrow shoots up. “Depends on your definition,” she says, not out of modesty but because - well, there was a big part of beating the shit out of Nazis that was pretty much for pleasure.

“By most definitions,” he counters. “How’s that leg healing?”

“Decently,” she says, and she rolls her eyes fondly at Jemma before adding, “I have a pretty devoted ‘doctor.’” Jemma, of course, blushes.

“Good. I mean, I’m not a doctor, I don’t have any medical degrees or anything, but I do know what helps me when I’m recuperating.” He winks. “Just saying, I’m free tonight if you are.”

“Free for what?” Bobbi asks archly, because it’ll be funny to hear his excuse.

“Whatever. I’ve got a truly staggering collection of wines at my place, and guaranteed privacy.”

Skye nudges Bobbi and fake-whispers, “I think he means sexual healing.”

Bobbi nods, then narrows her eyes at Tony. “I sort of figured that out.”

Skye smirks at Tony. “Trust me, pal, we’ve got that all sorted out.” She runs a hand down Bobbi’s arm.

“Damn straight you do,” Bobbi says approvingly.

“And anyway,” Jemma pipes up, “that’s sort of a silly offer. I mean, your injury is nearly healed and you’ve been getting along fine without his magic penis to save you. And while potentially comforting, there isn’t an injury that sex could _actually_ heal. Particularly not one related to an ankle, of all things. And also,” she pauses to grin widely, “Kindly fuck off, please.”

Tony blinks, taken aback. He wasn’t even sure cute little Jemma Simmons knew how to say “fuck.”

“Ooh, strike-out!” calls Natasha from where she’s lounging across Sharon. “Better luck next time, Stark.”

Tony decides this is a good time to go look at the used games. Natasha catches Bobbi’s eye and winks, giving her a thumbs up.

Smugly, Bobbi slips arms around Skye and Jemma’s shoulders, equal parts possessive and proud; this makes Jemma preen, of course, and Skye grins and leans over to kiss Bobbi’s cheek.

Bucky, meanwhile, puts his fingers to his face like he’s speaking into a microphone and says in a mock newscaster tone, “Well, that’s two strikes for two for our Mr. Stark. It’s been a rough season for him. Do you think he’ll ever recover, Sharon?” He grins over at her.

“I’m not sure if he will,” Sharon says, equally announcer-voiced, “but if there’s one thing to say about him, it’s that he doesn’t seem to give up even when he ought to.”

“That’s for sure,” agrees Bucky. “And now, the weather!”

Several minutes later, Sif comes into the store, and Tony makes his way over. “I didn’t know you like games,” he says.

“Yes,” says Sif, extremely wary. “I do, in fact.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Tony Stark Leaves Me Alone.” And she walks away from him without another word.

“Ooh, and again,” says Bucky, quietly so only Sharon and Natasha can hear. “Not a good day for Stark at all. He’s got a lot of ground to make up.”

Joey, who’s also recently arrived, says to Tony, “Uh, maybe if you don’t use so many innuendos people will want to talk to you.” Tony pouts and ignores him.

Shrugging, Joey wanders over to Skye, Bobbi, and Jemma and waves. “So do we have a strategy or what?”

“Do you need a strategy for this?” Jemma asks.

“I mean, not as much, but if we don’t want Wandering Boner over there to win, we gotta get organized,” Skye says.

“He’s clearly distracted,” Bobbi mutters, sniffing distastefully, “but still. Do you think he’s any good to begin with?”

Joey shrugs. “He doesn’t seem like it, but I guess you never know.”

“Yeah, I’d assume not,” says Skye, “but we better not underestimate him either.” She gestures for them to huddle up with her.

Jemma leans back, nibbling a cookie and watching more than listening because she only has half a clue what they’re talking about. It’s pretty cute, though.

“All right, guys!” Bereet calls after a few minutes. “Gamers take your places and let’s get this show on the road!”

Skye runs over immediately to grab a controller and select Princess Daisy. “Y’know,” she says, with an exaggerated wink.

Bobbi rolls her eyes, grinning, and takes Princess Peach, calling back to Jemma, “I’ll do her well,” since when they’re all playing Mario games at home Peach belongs to Jemma.

Jemma blows them both kisses.

Joey, right on their heels, takes Toad. “Sure,” he says with a shrug and a grin.

Steve and Sam pick Mario and Luigi, Sam chuckling. “What,” Steve says, “they’re classic.”

Tony takes Wario, nodding to his opponents. “May the best racer win.”

Hogun is Bowser and Sif is Donkey Kong, and Quill ends up with Yoshi, which he seems less than thrilled about, but he doesn’t react except for a small groan.

As the first race gets underway, Jemma, who’s never done this sort of thing before, asks mostly Natasha, “Am I supposed to cheer for my girls or do I just watch quietly?”

“You’re so _cute,_ ” says Natasha.

“Honestly, you can do whatever you want,” Sharon adds, trying not to coo. “They’re all going to be pretty loud once it gets underway.”

“Oh,” Jemma says, sure she’s blushing absurdly.

“It’s endearing,” says Bucky, in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “I’m sure they love your support.”

“Thank you,” Jemma mumbles. “It’s so silly, but it’s important, and that aside, we all deserve some silly.”

Natasha nods. “We really do.”

Meanwhile onscreen, Hogun and Sif are leading the pack, with Bobbi, Quill, and Skye right on their heels. Sam and Steve are farther back, not seeming to be in any real hurry, but they’re doing better than Tony, who seems to be trying to rig the race (which is difficult when you’re in last place).

And for her part, Bereet is narrating enthusiastically, offering color commentary that’s significantly more colorful than in a real sporting event. It suits.

“So Stark’s lulling them into a false sense of security, I see,” quips Bucky.

“Awful lot of credit to be giving him,” Sharon mutters.

“Well, he’s supposed to be a genius,” Natasha snickers. “Maybe this is all part of his master plan.”

“What master plan is that?” Jemma asks, because this conversation is amusing but also because she’s not sure if there’s an inside joke she’s missing.

“His master plan to win the tournament and impress all the girls, obviously,” says Natasha with a roll of her eyes. “That’s probably his goal.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I mean, I’m not the guy to be talking, but there’s more to life.”

Sharon snickers. “Look, Skye and Bobbi are messing with Quill or something,” she murmurs.

“So they are,” Jemma hums, leaning forward to watch (there are a lot of physical clues that they’re working together and it’s very fun to watch).

Natasha smirks and raises an eyebrow. “That’s interesting,” she says. “Seems like they make a great team.”

“They do,” Jemma sighs before she realizes it.

“Aw, you’re adorable,” Sharon says.

Bucky grins. “Honestly, you guys are so cute you give us a run for our money.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jemma exclaims, surprised and also genuinely unsure.

“Morse and you two,” explains Natasha. “You guys are cute.”

“Oh!” Jemma squeaks. “I. I mean, that’s… we’re not exactly trying, but thank you?”

Natasha shrugs. “You don’t have to try to be cute. You’re not obnoxious about it.”

“ _We’re_ obnoxious!” says Bucky cheerfully, leaning over to kiss her cheek (she shoves him away).

Meanwhile, onscreen, the players are hurtling toward the finish line. Sif is just in front of Bobbi, with Skye and Hogun not far behind. Quill, Joey, Sam and Steve follow, and Tony trails behind everyone, grumbling loudly.

When the race finishes, Bereet announces the winners, even though everyone is looking at the screen so it’s not a surprise. Then she glances around the room and asks, “Anyone need to take a break?” It might be specifically aimed at Tony.

“No, does anybody else need one?” Tony asks, looking puzzled.

Jemma runs up toward the players and gives Skye and Bobbi kisses, then runs back to her seat, grinning all the while. Natasha blows the boys a kiss, smirking, then Bucky does the same.

“So,” Bereet says, borrowing a controller to set up the next course, “round two, then.”

Joey grins at Bobbi and Skye. “I’m not that great at this game, but this is fun!”

“Looks like you’re doing pretty well to me,” Bobbi replies cheerfully.

In this race, Steve “accidentally” runs into Tony several times. “Oops,” he says each time, with an increasing lack of sincerity. Bobbi manages to take the lead this time, smug as anything as she crosses the finish line. Quill started to get into annoying Tony on the second lap and stopped paying attention to the actual race, so he ends up dead last.

“Wow,” Sharon whispers, “his desire to piss Tony off actually won out over his desire to impress Bereet. Impressive.”

“I support this,” says Bucky with a smirk.

As everyone’s getting set up for the third race, Sif’s phone buzzes and she glances at it. After replying and getting another text, she says, “Ah, sorry, going to have to opt out of this one.”

“Everything all right?” Hogun asks.

“Yes, Mel just needs me to. Erm. Help change her sheets.” Sif’s poker face is terrible.

“That so,” Bobbi says, loudly suspicious. Bucky and Natasha are snickering.

“Yes,” Sif says. “So I’ll...be going now.” She hands Bereet her controller almost apologetically. “It’s been fun, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Bereet says, trying not to smirk too much. “Maybe we’ll catch you next time.”

Sif nods as she gathers her things and turns to go. “Thanks, all,” she calls on her way out the door.

“Have fun,” calls Tony, smirking. “But not too much fun.”

Skye, who’s sitting closest to him, gives him a “playful” whack on the arm.

“Well, hey, we have an open controller now,” Quill points out to Bereet. “You could play?”

“I’m supposed to be hosting,” Bereet says doubtfully.

“You could do both at once,” Joey says, smiling hopefully. “It’d be more fun with eight.”

She tilts her head. “I guess that’d be okay,” she decides, switching back to the menu to change her avatar to Rosalina (or as she calls her, with a self-deprecating smile, space Elsa). “Everyone ready for the next course?”

“Yup!” Skye chirps.

So Bereet gets it set up and slides into driving. There’s a bit less narration now that she’s playing, because she’s not trying to show anyone up but she’s not trying to play nice either, but the room maintains its general atmosphere of friendly competition.

“Damn,” says Sam. “You know your way around the track.”

“Practice,” Bereet says with a sheepish shrug and a smile.

“It’s cool,” says Quill. “You’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, smiling almost shyly.

“So that’s happening,” Sharon mutters to Natasha and Bucky, rolling her eyes.

Natasha shrugs. “No accounting for taste, I guess. I know we got lucky with these three nerds.” She bumps Bucky’s shoulder with her own.

“Aw, be still my heart.”

Quill’s actually paying attention to the race this time, ignoring Tony, who is trying (and failing hilariously) to catch up and crash into him. Bereet is far enough ahead that she keeps turning to him and smirking, though, clearly very pleased with herself, and she’s not being shy about dropping traps on the track, either.

Bobbi nudges Skye as carefully as she can, jerking her head in their direction. Skye glances over and has to quickly stifle her giggles with her hand.

Sam manages to avoid all of the shenanigans and edge ahead, crossing the finish line just ahead of Hogun and looking slightly surprised about it. “I guess all that practice at your place paid off,” he calls back to Bucky.

“Damn right,” says Bucky proudly.

Quill, meanwhile, is staring at Bereet like he’s not sure to be angry or turned on. “You don’t go easy on a guy, do you?”

She shrugs, this time cheerful. “I don’t want to be accused of favoritism.”

“Kind of the opposite of that,” snarks Skye quietly. Joey laughs.

“Hey, some guys are into that,” Bobbi says lightly, which makes Skye snort.

“Final race, guys,” Bereet calls out.

“Just wait,” says Tony, “every inspirational sports movie ends with the underdog winning. Not that I’m admitting to being the underdog, but if that’s how you’ve been thinking of me.”

“Winning the race won’t win you the night, Stark,” Steve replies smoothly, smiling.

Tony shrugs. “It’ll be a victory in spirit, which is what Disney movies taught me was the most important kind.”

Surprising no one, he has not magically improved for this fourth race. Even though no one is actively targeting him this time, he’s just not a very good driver.

Joey, meanwhile, is duking it out with Hogun the entire race, who seems determined to win. They’re both pretty good players, and evenly matched, so even when someone tries to sneak past them (Skye) they’re able to head her off pretty well. “Hey!” she yelps, only half-serious. “What happened to alliances, Gutierrez?”

“In the game of karts, you win or you die,” he says smoothly.

In the end, Hogun wins by a nose, and Joey offers him his hand good-naturedly afterwards. “Nice job.” Hogun shakes it and gives him the smallest of smiles (but it’s genuine).

Bereet takes a few minutes to tally the scores, during which Jemma gets up and offers cookies to everyone, and finally she announces, “All right, I’ve got the scores and the prizes!”

Tony crosses his arms and pretends like he’s not pouting (he is).

“Third place, since Sif’s not here and I’m out of the running, is Sam!” Bereet calls, waving a mystery figure box.

Surprised, Sam grins and goes to take his prize. “Thanks! Can’t say I was expecting this.” He opens the box good-naturedly (it’s the Disney series) and smiles when it turns out to be Wall-E. “Cool!”

“That’s definitely one of the best options in that set,” Bereet agrees, grinning. “Second place, because it just wouldn’t be game night if he didn’t place, Hogun!” She offers him a $10 certificate.

Hogun gives her the smallest of smiles and nods his thanks before taking his seat again. “I promise it wasn’t rigged,” he said, probably joking.

“And I’m just going to bring our winner her grand prize,” Bereet says, smirking as she comes to hand Bobbi a $20 card.

“Shucks,” Bobbi says (if it had been a guy, she’d have felt patronized, but she has no such problem with Bereet). Behind her, Jemma cheers. Skye bumps shoulders with her and looks smug.

Quill nods. “Nice. You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi says, a little surprised there wasn’t anything sketchy in that comment. “It’s all in good fun, but I do get a little into it.”

“I get a little into _you_ ,” says Skye, who is apparently determined to make up for Quill’s lack of sketchiness.

“Weirdo,” Bobbi scoffs, but it’s clearly meant fondly.

“So, thanks for coming, everyone,” Bereet calls. “We have to kick you out at 10, but feel free to hang around till then.”

Carefully (but mostly not limping) Bobbi heads back to where Jemma’s still sitting, both self-assured and smug, and Jemma immediately hops up to give kisses, remarkably unaware of the audience for the moment. “You did wonderfully,” Jemma croons.

“I know,” Bobbi replies, grinning.

Skye noses in for kisses from both of them as well. “You were a great cheerleader,” she purrs to Jemma.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” Jemma beams.

“Why keep it to the past tense?” Bobbi asks mischievously. “I could think of a few more ways to put you to work once we get back to my place.”

Skye grins. “Sounds fun. What do you think, Jem?”

Jemma’s response is to hide her face against Skye’s shoulder and nod. She’s praying everyone else has stopped paying attention by now (although she’s fairly sure her quasi-secret is not really that secret by this point).

“We have a yes,” Bobbi hums, rubbing Jemma’s shoulder. “Anything else you two want to do before we go?”

“I’m good,” says Skye with a shrug.

“May we go, please?” Jemma asks softly.

“You sound excited, honey,” Bobbi says, arranging her crutch under her arm and grabbing Jemma’s hand with her other. “Let’s get going, then.”

Skye grabs Jemma’s other hand and waves goodbye to Joey, who grins and waves back.

Meanwhile, Sam and Steve have returned to their group, who shower Sam in congratulatory kisses. “Pretty good for someone who’d never played before he met me,” teases Natasha.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You can’t take _all_ the credit, Romanoff.”

“Watch her,” Sharon says cheerfully.

“It’s not like I’m the one with the game systems or anything,” says Bucky with a grin.

“Yeah, but it’s usually my idea to play,” replies Natasha.

“You’re all a little ridiculous,” Steve points out.

“A little? I’m offended, I’m a _lot_ ridiculous,” she corrects.

Sam laughs. “Well, I say you guys chip in for ice cream for the winner.”

“We could definitely see about that,” Sharon agrees with a smile.

“So what games do you play normally?” Joey asks Bereet.

“Oh, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Skyrim,” she says. “That sort of thing. I dabble all around, though.”

He nods. “Nice! I stick to N64 because I find the new stuff kinda complicated, but it’s fun to watch Let’s Plays and stuff.”

“Honestly, I got good at them out of spite, because there’s something really satisfying about proving to bros you can play better than them,” she smirks. “On the subject of which, I must say, kudos for not hitting on me, that happens almost never in here.”

Joey laughs and responds, “Oh, I wasn’t planning on it. I’m, uh, gay, so no worries there.”

“Still refreshing,” she says, shrugging. “Are gay guys less inherently annoying than straight guys, just in general?”

“Sometimes? Depends on the guy. I don’t get hit on as much as you do, I’m sure.”

Just then Quill ambles up. “Hey, nice playing. I guess you kinda handed me my ass. That’s hot.”

Bereet raises an eyebrow, mostly in Joey’s direction, but she’s smirking nonetheless.


	92. deliver my heart with the pieces and parts of me left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word leaks out that Victoria's married. She's less than thrilled.

“Can I look at your rings?” Clint asks as he walks into Kay Jewelers.

Callie blinks. This is, like, her second day on the job and she’s not even done with her training yet, but she can probably show a few rings to some guy. “What kind of rings were you looking for?” she asks, really hoping he can point her in a direction. “Do you have a price point?”

“Uh, engagement rings, and...not ridiculous?” Clint shrugs.

That isn’t really an answer. “Well, uh, most of our rings… I guess they _could_ be engagement rings,” she says, bewildered. “But, uh, over here. Is where most of them are.” She gestures in the direction of the ring displays.

“I don’t know much about rings,” admits Clint. “What rings do girls like? I mean, what should I be looking for?”

“What… kind of girl?” Callie asks. Generalizing is bad. She’s learned this much from Victoria already. “I mean, does she… wear a lot of jewelry?”

“Not really? I mean, she wears a lot of plaid shirts and skirts, I guess. She’s not like, overly fancy. I mean, I think she’s fancy.”

“So she probably wouldn’t want anything too ostentatious.”

“I don’t think so. She’s never mentioned anything like that. I’m not even sure she would want a ring, but…” He laughs nervously.

“She’s your girlfriend, right?” Callie asks. “I’m gonna guess she’d be happy getting a ring from you if you guys are, like… serious.”

“Yeah. I mean, we haven’t talked about rings specifically, but I just-”

“Barton!” Victoria barks, emerging from the back room. “Do I have to _officially_ ban you?”

Barton whips his head around, eyes widening. “Uh…”

“Whatever you’re doing here, it can’t be good,” she mutters. To Callie she adds, “Seriously, don’t mind him. He’s a little deranged about romance.”

“I am not!” Clint protests, pouting a little.

Victoria raises an eyebrow pointedly, but decides ignoring him is the best option and heads for the register.

“Hey, still need help here,” he points out.

“No you don’t,” Victoria snaps. “Are you even actually _dating_ Laura? Officially? Because you sure weren’t last time.”

“I mean, yeah. For, I dunno, like five months now? Since Christmas anyway.”

“That’s a little better,” Victoria sighs, folding her arms. “But it’s still too soon and for the sake of everyone in this entire mall, I’m sending you away.” She says this coldly enough that he couldn’t mistake her for sympathetic.

Clint glares and, just as he turns to go, his gaze drifts to her hands. “Is that…?” he asks, pointing to the ring on her finger that is obviously a wedding ring.

Victoria follows his gaze, terrified, and turns away quickly, mumbling obscenities. Callie, meanwhile, is genuinely terrified.

Clint blinks. “Is everything okay? I mean, I know you don’t like me, but did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she mutters. “I’m just busy.”

“Okay,” he says nervously, and scampers out of the store.

Once he’s away from Victoria’s potential wrath, he pauses and wonders how many other people know Victoria got married. He’s walked by the store basically every day and sometimes he sees her in the mall - actually he considered going in about a month ago but didn’t - but he can’t remember the last time he saw her in person. The gift exchange maybe? No way she could’ve kept it secret since Christmas…

He wanders over in the direction of Yankee Candle, knowing Laura’s probably due to go on lunch soon. Sure enough, after a couple minutes of hanging around outside she walks out. “Hey, stranger,” she calls, smiling shyly.

“Hey,” he says, smiling back. “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty mediocre, but not annoyingly so,” she replies, coming to kiss his cheek. “You?”

“Okay, but I saw something kinda weird earlier. You know Victoria, works at Kay? She’s wearing a wedding ring.”

“So she probably got married, I guess?” Laura frowns. “Why is this a thing?”

“I dunno, it’s just...it’s weird. Why wouldn’t she tell anyone? She looked kind of freaked out that I noticed.”

“Does she talk about her personal life a lot?” Laura asks. “I mean, I don’t really know her, so.”

He laughs. “No, she’s really guarded about it. I haven’t talked to her a lot, I don’t think she likes me, but even with people she kind of likes she doesn’t talk much.”

“Okay, so, this shouldn’t be much of a surprise,” Laura frowns.

“Caught me off guard, I guess.” Clint shrugs. “I can’t imagine wanting to keep big news like that a secret.”

“Me either, but I guess to each their own,” she says. “Where did you see her, anyway?”

“Uh,” he says, because he didn’t think this far ahead. “The...restroom. She was coming out and I was going in. Yeah.”

Laura tilts her head. “Uh-huh,” she says, not sure she believes him. “Wanna grab lunch?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, relieved to have the topic diverted.

Darcy, meanwhile, is strolling by like a reasonable person when she hears that - holy shit, Victoria Hand got married. To Isabelle, obviously. And she’s a little impressed that they managed to pull off an engagement and wedding she didn’t know about until now, but mostly she’s just ecstatic. Because it’s awesome with people find love, or whatever, and it’s awesome that she finally has gossip about Victoria.

She sits down to tell the secret internet immediately.

 

* * *

 

**EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _Asha,_ 27-April-2016

_VICTORIA HAND AND ISABELLE HARTLEY ARE MARRIED_

_VICTORIA IS WEARING EVIDENCE ON HER FINGER_

_HOW DID NOBODY KNOW_

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 27-April-2016

_SHOCKING_

  


**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 27-April-2016

_Skye_ …

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 27-April-2016

  


_Jk, thank god someone finally figured it out. I was dying over here._

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _Mockingbird,_ 27-April-2016

_You had perfectly good reasons to keep your mouth shut about it, weirdo._

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 27-April-2016

_Yes! Like… respecting their privacy! Which is important. But aren’t we all happy for them?_

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _TrueKnight,_ 27-April-2016

_Aw, good for them. I hope they’re happy._

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _PeerReview,_ 27-April-2016

_Honestly a little surprised it stayed mostly secret this long. Who’d you manage to get to tell you, Darcy?_

**Re: EVERYONE EVERYONE LISTEN •** By _Asha,_ 27-April-2016

_I wouldn’t say anyone told me directly. But that’s not the point._

 

* * *

 

Quill is eating lunch over here, which is good. It means Darcy won’t have to go across the street to get that bunch in the loop. (Odds are, Nebula’s already seen it on the secret internet, but still.) She doesn’t mind his perpetually hitting on everyone that much, so she gets along with him better than some people do. It means that her running up to him in the food court and dramatically whispering “ _Guess what_ ” isn’t going to turn into awkward.

“Uh, you found out that it was all a horrible lie and Prince is still alive?” he asks hopefully.

“I wish,” Darcy sighs. “No, this is really awesome, though. Victoria from the jewelry store and her hot personal trainer girlfriend actually got married!”

He grins. “Oh my god, that’s awesome! I mean, I wouldn’t wanna, but good for them!”

“No, right, same,” she laughs, “but yeah! It’s really cool. They’re all… well, they act like people who aren’t into that, so it’s really cute that they are.”

“Yeah. I gotta tell everyone back at the shop!” He stands up, shoving the remaining half of his burger into his mouth.

“Have fun!” Darcy yells, waving madly.

Quill jogs back to Knowhere (normally he wouldn’t, but he’s excited) and bursts into the shop. “Did you guys know that hot chick from the ring store and her girlfriend got married?”

Gamora raises an eyebrow. “Victoria?” she corrects. “Considering I speak to her exactly never, no, I didn’t know that.”

“I mean, I don’t either, but Darcy just told me.”

“That is excellent!” says Drax, grinning. “I wish them happy nuptials!”

Nebula rolls her eyes. “Gross.”

“This seems to be a season for romance,” Drax adds. “I have recently progressed to the stage of staying overnight at Joey’s apartment…”

“Can we get back to work?” Gamora asks, groaning.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Tony,” Darcy calls, bouncing into Sharper Image (and looking around to make sure Hope isn’t there, because she’s cool but also intimidating as hell).

“Oh, hey, Lewis,” says Tony, leaning over the counter. “Come to take me up on that date?”

“Not today, and I’m at least going to bet that not tomorrow or the day after,” she says smoothly, grinning. “Guess who’s married?”

Tony blinks. “Uh, I hope not you?”

“God, no,” she laughs. “Guess again.”

He wracks his brain. “Thor? Nah, if Thor got married everyone within a hundred miles would’ve known about it and been invited. Man knows how to party. Not Peggy and Angie, they would’ve invited me for sure. How about we pretend I had a token third guess and you just go ahead and tell me?”

His guesses actually aren’t that bad, even if he negates them as he’s guessing them, so Darcy gives him a pass. “Victoria and Isabelle.”

“Oh. Huh. I wouldn’t actually have guessed that.” Tony blinks. “Why didn’t I know about it?”

“Because somehow, like, nobody did,” she shrugs. “It was a well-kept secret or something.”

He pouts. “But I’m supposed to know _everything_.”

“You’re not Heimdall or Raina,” Darcy replies with a serene smile, and she bounds back out the door.

Still pouting, Tony pulls out his phone and calls Pepper. “Tony?” she answers, sounding like she’s already fed up.

“Pepper,” he says, just on the end of whining, “did you know Victoria got married?”

There’s a very long pause.

“Either you’re thinking really hard about it or you did and you didn’t tell me,” he replies. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me? I could’ve gotten them something nice! And then they would’ve, you know, liked me.”

“I didn’t tell you because they asked me not to go spreading it around,” Pepper says, sighing.

“But I wouldn’t have told anyone! I’m very discreet.”

“You’re about as discreet as a bulldozer, Tony,” she deadpans.

“I take offense to that. I’m more like a small backhoe.” He pauses. “Do they not like me or something?”

“Victoria doesn’t like most people,” Pepper points out.

“But _I’m_ not most people!”

“It’s not about you, Tony,” Pepper groans.

Just then, Hope comes back out on the floor, eyebrow raised at Tony. Tony gulps and says “Bye Mom!” before hanging up.

“That was your mom?” Hope asks skeptically.

“Uh, yes. You know how moms are, she just...wanted to know how I’m doing.” Tony grins nervously. “All’s quiet out here!”

She doesn’t believe this for a moment, but there isn’t any use pressing it. Nobody’s in the store at the moment, so she can’t get _too_ upset at him for messing around.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, anyone in here?” Darcy calls, entering the weed store.

From behind the counter, Raina replies, “I’m back here, meme princess.”

Darcy snorts and heads over, leaning on the counter to watch Raina, who’s sitting on the floor doing an overly elaborate adult coloring book. “Just in case you didn’t hear on the secret internet, Victoria and Isabelle definitely got married.”

Raina looks up innocently. “I know,” she says. “I sent flowers.”

“Okay, I get why Bobbi didn’t spill, but you didn’t have a personal reason not to, right? How could you know something that awesome and not tell?” Darcy exclaims.

Raina shrugs. “There’s cookies on the counter.”

“Of course there are.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy is a little surprised to see Officer Dad down at this end of the mall (it’s not really his territory) but she shrugs it off before she runs into him. “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?” Coulson asks, looking baffled.

“One among us has tied the knot.”

“Uh. Are you saying someone got married?”

“That is the more conventional meaning of the phrase,” she teases, smirking.

“Well. How nice,” he says awkwardly.

“Aren’t you curious who it is?”

Coulson shrugs. “You’re going to tell me either way, aren’t you?”

“Victoria!” Darcy exclaims. “To Isabelle, obviously.”

“Oh! Well, how nice for them.” Coulson smiles. “Best of luck to them. Now, ah, I have to get back to work…”

“Seriously? Not even a second to enthuse about the happy scary lesbians?”

“That description seems a little disrespectful…”

“I mean it with every fondness and admiration,” Darcy promises. “Like, that’s a very cool thing to grow up to be.”

Coulson chuckles. “If you say so. Like I said, I’m happy for them and I hope they’re very happy.”

“Would you be happy about their happiness?” she presses, smirking like the troll she is.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” He tilts his head.

She very quickly realizes it’s less fun to tease someone who doesn’t seem to care if they’re being teased. If they even notice. “Yeah. Whatever, I’m just really buzzed about it. See you around, Officer Dad.”

 

* * *

 

“So, guys,” Darcy calls out as she enters the science store. “Victoria Hand got married.”

“Really,” Jane says.

Helen looks up from the register and grins. “Lots of that going around,” she says. “Big steps, that is.”

Jane makes a face. “What have I told you about being ridiculous like that,” she mutters.

“That you secretly love it?” Helen replies, grinning.

“I mean, she puts up with me, I assume she doesn’t really mind it, at least,” Darcy offers.

“Victoria,” Jane says loudly. “Married. When did that happen?”

Darcy shrugs. “Recently enough that Skye’s known the whole time but managed to keep her mouth shut about it,” she says. “I just wanted to let you know. It seemed important.”

“I’m glad for her,” Helen says.

“Also, Tony definitely thought it was you when I asked him who he thought got married,” Darcy says to Jane, deviously. “So, y’know. For what that’s worth.” She makes sure to be out the door before Jane can really respond.

 

* * *

 

“Who is it?” Karen calls over the knocking on the admin office door.

“Just Darcy, don’t worry.”

“Come in, that’s fine.” To Kara, Karen murmurs, “Wonder what’s up.”

“Happy married lesbians, that’s what’s up,” Darcy announces, apparently overhearing as she enters. “Did you guys know about that?”

Kara shakes her head. “Isabelle and Victoria, right?” she asks. “I mean, I know Isabelle had to cancel my self-defense classes for like a week last month because she was going to be out of the country? I didn’t know that’s why, though! That’s great.”

“Out of the _country_?” Darcy repeats. “Damn, they really must have gone all-out.”

“Least on the honeymoon,” Karen says, grinning. “I hope they had a kickass time. I hope they’re havin’ a kickass time being married.”

“Don’t all of you have something to be doing?” Irani asks, but she sounds less upset than curious.

“I’m off,” Darcy says with a shrug, “I was just here spreading the good word.”

“It’s lovely,” replies Irani, raising her eyebrow. “Far be it from me to participate in workplace gossip, however.”

“Participating and casually overhearing are two different things,” Kara suggests. “We wouldn’t tell if it turned from one into the other, though.”

Irani shrugs. “A few minutes are fine, but don’t get too off track.”

“Women,” mutters Garthan from his desk. “If it’s not marriage, it’s babies. Can’t resist them, any of you.”

Irani turns to him, eyes very dark. “Care to repeat that, Garthan?”

He goes white. “Er…”

“I’ll have you know, Mister…” Darcy glances around his desk, trying to find an appropriate name to call him. “Mister Airplanes.” Not mean enough, but it will do. “I’ve been spreading this around to all of my friends and a lot of times the guys are just as excited, if not more than. Also, conversely, babies are kind of gross.”

“We’re just happy for our friends,” Kara says. “This is a big deal for them.”

“Plus, it’s really cool that one of our first sets of friends to get married is gay, ‘cause that wouldn’t even have been able to happen a little while ago,” Karen adds. “It’s stuff like that that makes the world seem like it’s not entirely dismal.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your revolting sexism to yourself while in this office,” finishes Irani. “Or you’ll find yourself without an office in which to watch your tongue.”

Looking very embarrassed, Garthan busies himself with his work again.

“Good talk,” Darcy chuckles, heading out.

 

* * *

 

It always takes a bit of searching to find Ian amongst the bookshelves at his store. They don’t have uniforms or anything, and he looks not unlike some of his store’s customers. But with some effort, she finds him shelving cookbooks and proceeds to pose in a worksafe but sexy manner against the shelf. “Fun news,” she says.

“...oh?” he says, because in his experience this can mean any one of a few things.

“Victoria and Isabelle the hot lesbian pirates got married, apparently.”

“Well, that’s nice,” he declares. “Apparently?”

“I didn’t hear it from them directly,” Darcy shrugs.

“Maybe they didn’t want to say because they didn’t feel safe?” Wanda asks, peering out from behind a shelf. “I mean, you never know, I suppose.”

Darcy tilts her head. “Well, that’s not actually a bad idea, theoretically,” she says. “But, y’know, they’re crazy-confident and also this mall is really safe. We have pretty badass upper management or whatever, and enough of us who work here are cool about things.”

Wanda nods slowly, as if she’s thinking about something. “Good. I hope they’re happy together.”

Thor ambles into the bookstore and calls, “Ian, may I have your assistance in locating something?”

“What is it?” Ian asks.

But before Thor can answer, Darcy exclaims, “Victoria got married it’s a really big deal right?”

“Oh! How wonderful!” says Thor, grinning widely. “Is this a recent event? I hadn’t heard until now.”

“It’s pretty recent,” she agrees. “If you run into Garthan from admin, be sure to tell him how joyous you think weddings are, or whatever.”

“I shall! Thank you for informing me! Do you think she would want a gift of some sort?”

“Uh, maybe?” Darcy says, but Thor’s already on his way out of the store, completely having forgotten what he came in for.

“Victoria!” he calls as he enters Kay Jewelers. “Congratulations on your recent nuptials! I should like to give you a gift, would you prefer tableware or decor?”

Victoria’s eyes go wide. “My recent…”

“Your marriage!” He smiles. “I assume to your beloved. I wish you many happy years together!”

“Uh,” Victoria says. “Not that I don’t have an idea, but where did you hear this?”

“From Darcy,” Thor replies, smile slipping a bit. “I assumed she was sharing it in good faith. If my knowledge has upset you, I sincerely apologize.”

“It’s fine,” she sighs. “I’m not offended. Not surprised, but not offended.” Maybe married life has relaxed her somewhat, because she actually isn’t offended. Much.

He smiles again, relieved this time. “Excellent. I shan’t let it spread any further from me, however.” Then he glances at her hand and notices her ring. “That’s a lovely ring,” he adds.

She raises an eyebrow. “I… thank you,” she says, surprised about _this_. “It would have been foolish not to utilize the employee discount.”

Thor nods. “Would you still want a gift from Jane and myself, or would you rather we simply wish you well?”

“If you have to get something, make it small,” Victoria says, because this feels like a compromise.

“Very well! I will see if I can find something to your taste.” With a cheerful wave goodbye, he leaves.

 

* * *

 

Finding Darcy isn’t hard. She’s lounging in front of Sephora, looking like she’s waiting for a moment to make a move. She sees Victoria first, and immediately yelps, “I heard it from Clint, okay?”

Victoria sighs. That’s pretty much what she’d figured was going on, but she still feels compelled to say, like a teacher in an after-school special, “You know why it wasn’t your business to share it with, I’m assuming, everyone you know?”

“Yes,” Darcy huffs. “But look, everyone is really happy for you, okay? Nobody’s gross. Everybody’s just like… yay!” It’s the worst defense.

Victoria is surprised all over again. “Oh,” she says, and heads for the escalator.

She’s never actually been inside Fuego, and she makes a face as she crosses the threshold.

Clint is rearranging a section of T-shirts, so it takes him a minute to notice her, but once she coughs he jumps and turns around, and then jumps again and makes an undignified yelping noise.

“So I hear you were talking about me,” Victoria says.

He swallows. “I, uh, I just like weddings? They’re nice. And stuff.”

She sighs. “You know, I’d pretty much figured that out already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gif was the first image found via Google, but if it's yours we're happy to give credit.


	93. 'cause I chase everything when you play, throw and I play catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a pool party. There's a bet on a game of beer pong and lots of inappropriate flirting.

“Mr. Stark!” yelps Jarvis, as he’s chased by the flamingo, which is squawking indignantly and trying to peck at him after he attempted to herd it out of the backyard. “Do you think you could perhaps figure out how to corral this creature?”

Howard is laughing too hard to reply.

“Maybe he likes you,” Ana suggests, giggling. “You could lead him out the gate if you’re bothered, though?”

Jarvis huffs and makes a dash for the gate that leads to the front yard, which of course remembers his biometric readings as a former employee and lets him through, Bernard close behind.

Angie giggles. “I mean, it’s not really funny, but he’ll be okay so it’s kinda funny.”

“We shouldn’t laugh so much,” Peggy says, laughing, “at least when he can hear us.”

Ana raises an eyebrow. “So we get it out of the way now?”

“Yes,” giggles Howard.

They’re all (mostly) straight-faced by the time Jarvis reappears through the back door, still breathing heavily. “And that,” he says, trying for dignity, “is why I became a maths teacher. Still, sir, I don’t suppose we’ll have to worry about unwanted guests. Or possibly wanted ones, depending on how that accursed bird decides to behave.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” says Howard with a last snicker.

“Well, not that literally?” Ana smirks, waving her husband over. “Do you mean that the flamingo is a metaphor?”

“For Death, perhaps,” mutters Jarvis, leaning down obligingly for a kiss.

Tony ambles out into the backyard, wearing swim trunks and a smoking jacket. Rhodey follows, holding a punch bowl. “Hey, Dad, I thought you weren’t planning to stick around. Kinda putting a damper on the party.”

Howard rolls his eyes. “You’ll hardly know I’m here!”

“So business as usual,” says Rhodey under his breath.

Happy rolls the portable minibar out the door and onto the lawn, mostly without incident. “I think I got everything, but you might wanna check it,” he says to Tony.

“Thanks, Hap. Pepper’s not back yet, is she?”

“She texted me a few minutes ago saying she was at checkout. Anything else you need me to do?”

Tony shrugs. “I dunno, I mean, it’s probably fine.” Meanwhile, Rhodey is wrestling a folding table through the back door.

“Tony, you should help him, shouldn’t you?” Peggy suggests archly.

“Should I?”

“Yes, you should,” Peggy replies. “If you know what’s good for you, anyway. Anthony.”

He coughs. “I guess so.” Then he goes to help Rhodey with the table.

Soon, Pepper is back in the house, carrying an armful of paper bags. “Someone be so kind as to help me arrange this?” she asks, sounding desperate.

Happy and Rhodey come over to help. “Oh, you got fruit plates,” says Rhodey, sounding surprised.

“I figured fruit is summery, and if I didn’t buy it some of these people wouldn’t have any all week,” Pepper says cheerfully.

“Smart,” says Happy, sneaking a strawberry.

“Feel free to help yourselves,” Pepper says to the adults (or, more specifically, the adults who aren’t Howard). “Were you… planning on sticking around?”

Angie wanders over to grab some pita bread and hummus. “I mean, until he kicks us out,” she says with a shrug.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t do that unless he had a really good reason,” Pepper says, looking pointedly at Tony.

“You guys are fine,” says Tony casually. “It’s...other...people I’m worried about.” He looks pointedly at Howard, who isn’t paying attention.

“Luckily, I’m somewhat adept at keeping other people in line,” Peggy hums, smirking but not too much. It wouldn’t be polite to explain how.

Tony’s about to reply, but the sound of robo-Jarvis announcing “sir, there is someone at the door” in rapid-fire succession about twenty times interrupts him. “Well, that’s somebody,” he says. “Somebody get that?”

Happy sighs and heads indoors.

A minute later Skye, Jemma, and Bobbi appear. “Don’t tell me we’re early,” Bobbi drawls, looking around.

“Nah, you’re good,” says Rhodey with a smile. “Help yourself to the food, and there’s a bar over there.”

“Yeah, can I pour you ladies something?” Tony asks, walking over towards the bar. “It might look small, but looks can be deceiving.” He’s definitely leering.

Skye rolls her eyes. “Maybe later, thanks.”

“How about you guys come sit over _here_ ,” says Rhodey, patting the other end of the blanket he’s parked himself on.

“Thank you, yes,” Jemma says, rolling her eyes.

This, of course, does not stop Tony from wandering over. “Can I interest you in a lap or two? In the pool, I mean.”

Bobbi narrows her eyes, then pulls Skye into _her_ lap to kiss. Tony turns his attention to Jemma, but before he can say anything, Skye wraps her arms around Jemma’s waist and pulls her into the pile. Then she smirks at Tony. “Think we’ve got enough laps, thanks.”

Tony shrugs and walks away without another word.

“Sorry,” Skye apologizes, loosening her grip on Jemma. “Hope that was okay, he was just bugging me.”

Jemma shakes her head, laughing (if a bit nervously). “It’s fine,” she says. “He was… looming. It was uncomfortable. And I like… well, you know.” She nods between Skye and Bobbi.

“Yeah, we like you too,” Bobbi says fondly. “Sunscreen?”

While they’re busy with that, more people arrive. The Maximoffs come into the backyard, Pietro looking far more excited than Wanda. He’s wearing blue swim trunks and no shirt, while Wanda seems far more shy in her red bikini. “Hello!” he calls.

“Hi!” Ana calls, waving eagerly at the both of them.

Wanda smiles shyly. “Hi, Ana.”

“So nice to see the two of you,” says Jarvis, returning her smile. “Can I interest you in some refreshments?”

Pietro grabs a plate and takes some pretzels. “Thank you! I was looking forward to this, I haven’t been in a pool since our parents took us on vacation several ago.”

Wanda chuckles. “Yes, we had to buy new swimsuits.” She looks at the ground. “I couldn’t find any one-pieces, so I bought this.”

“I think it looks very nice,” Ana promises. “It suits you. Pun very much intended.”

“Thank you,” says Wanda with a nervous giggle. “Let’s go sit over there,” she says to Pietro, nodding towards Bobbi’s group.

“Okay,” Pietro replies, following her and waving at the group once they get there. “Fitz and Trip did not come?”

“Trip had a shift he couldn’t switch and Fitz has homework,” Jemma says, sounding the slightest bit jealous.

“Ah,” says Pietro. “Well, I’m going to swim.” He heads for the pool.

“He likes the water,” says Wanda with a fond smile. “Takes baths all the time. I don’t like them, and this is…” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Awkward.”

Jemma nods sympathetically. “I don’t mind a nice bath every now and again, but I’ve never been one for group swimming,” she says. “Or honestly, much swimming at all. I took lessons as a child but… pools. Are not my favorite thing.”

Skye shrugs. “I’m mostly here for the free food and booze. You look good, though,” she adds, giving Wanda a reassuring smile.

“It’s a nice suit,” Bobbi agrees. “Would I be right saying Victoria’s Secret?”

“Yes, Lorelei, ah, helped me with it.” Wanda shrugs. “I wanted a one piece but they didn’t have any in my size left, so.”

“It’s cute,” Bobbi assures. “Bathing suits are pretty much a disaster for all of us, in one way or another, but you look better than you think you do, promise.”

“Thank you,” replies Wanda, looking a little embarrassed but happier. “You all look very nice too.”

“Hey, how about we have some drinks?” Skye suggests. “Might help us all feel more comfortable.”

“Yes, please,” Jemma says.

“I haven’t had many drinks,” admits Wanda. “I don’t know what I like.”

“We can help!” Bobbi says eagerly. “I mean, not to be a rotten enabler, but guidance can’t hurt, can it?”

“No, that would be helpful, thank you.”

Skye grins and goes over to pour herself a shot. Which she of course prefaces with “SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS” before downing it.

“Now, Tony Stark’s house is going to have some uncomfortably expensive alcohol,” Bobbi explains. “This means you have to remember what you drink here might be fancier and ultimately better than what you might buy yourself at the grocery store.”

“Oh,” says Wanda, eyes widening. “That makes sense.”

Sharon comes practically running into the backyard, flip-flops snapping against the deck, and throws her arms around Peggy’s waist from behind. “Hey, Aunt Peggy,” she says cheerfully. “Didn’t expect to see you at this poolside fiasco.”

Peggy smiles and perfunctorily ruffles Sharon’s hair. “God only knows why Howard decided to invite us to crash his son’s party, but I figure the rest of us can try to keep him in line,” she smirks.

“Who knows why any Stark does anything,” says Natasha with a grin and an eyeroll.

“Hello to all of you,” Peggy says, nodding around at the group.

“Good afternoon!” Steve says, a bit formal to cover for the fact that he’s blushing. (He would never dare be _gross_ about it, but, well, Peggy does wear a swimsuit well, and he wasn’t expecting that.) “Nothing too wild has happened yet?”

“Bernard was chasing Jarvis around earlier,” says Angie with a giggle.

“Who’s Bernard?” Sharon asks suspiciously.

“Oh, Howard’s new flamingo, I guess. Got him from a farm or something.” Angie shrugs. “I didn’t ask. He’s out front, you might’ve seen him.”

“Oh, is that what that is,” says Bucky. “It honked at me when we were on the porch.”

“He’s friendly!” Howard calls from a floating chair in the pool.

“Who is, your dick?” Darcy calls, flouncing onto the back porch and twirling a giant paper umbrella over her shoulder.

“I mean, if you’re asking, yeah…”

“So, Sharon,” says Tony, wandering over, “I hear you like guns.” He says this mostly to her cleavage.

“With the proper licensing and training, yes,” Sharon replies skeptically. “Not in a sketchy way.”

“I got some I might like to show you sometime, if you wanna see.”

“Excuse me, Anthony,” Peggy exclaims, setting a bottle of coconut rum down indignantly.

Tony’s head whips around and he swallows. “Um, didn’t see you there, Peggy,” he says in a very small voice.

Sharon rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the help, but I can handle myself,” she says to her aunt, then to Tony she exclaims, “She has a fairly good point, though. Excuse me?”

Tony retreats without another word. “So,” he says to Thor, who’s appeared along with a small entourage. “No Fandral today?”

Thor laughs. “No, Fandral had a prior engagement. He-”

“He’s in a cheesecake photoshoot,” says Sif cheerfully, grinning.

“That makes sense,” Sam murmurs to Steve with a smirk.

Jane, who is so far the only guest wearing a hat, has crossed to one of the lounge chairs and made herself comfortable. Thor brings her a drink and runs his hand down her shoulder fondly, and Darcy rolls her eyes. “You’re gross,” she points out.

“Like you’re not going to make Ian wait on you, too,” Jane retorts.

Ian flushes. “Strictly speaking, I offer,” he points out.

“But it’s less gross,” Darcy rationalizes, “because there’s… dynamic.”

“That’s enough!” Jane exclaims.

“Your friends are funny,” Melinda says to Sif, smirking. Sif shrugs, still grinning.

“I have a grand idea!” Thor says. “Let us begin a game of Norse beer pong!”

“Oh, fuck yes,” Darcy exclaims, whipping out her camera.

“Alright,” says Sif, then pauses. “Wanna come, Mel?”

“I’ll tag along.”

Natasha nudges Bucky. “Think we can take ‘em?”

“Hell yes!” They follow Thor and the others into the house.

Bruce and Mack wander into the backyard, Bruce looking nervous. He’s wearing a baggy T-shirt and purple swim trunks. Mack squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to take it off if you don’t wanna,” he says quietly. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything.”

Bruce shrugs. “I just, I haven’t been to one of these in awhile, or...ever, really, and it’s...you know.”

“Yeah,” Mack replies. “I know. Might go in for a bit myself, though.”

“I mean, I won’t complain about that at all,” Bruce says with a grin, leaning up to kiss Mack’s cheek before heading for the vacant chair next to Jane.

Tony, seeing this entire exchange, is pouting again.

Howard watches from one corner of the pool as Mack and Pietro start up a series of friendly races. “You sure have some good-looking friends, Tony,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “That big guy, damn.”

“Dad, just so you know, it’s really weird when you hit on my friends,” Tony says. “Only _I_ get to hit on them.”

“Only _I_ will give you flowers,” Bobbi says in a low voice, smirking before she brings a bottle back to her seat.

“Honestly, though, Howard,” Peggy interjects, rolling her eyes, “there are far better, far less disgusting way to get a date than to hit on your son’s friends.”

“I’ll drink to that,” says Angie, raising her glass and then leaning over to kiss Peggy.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Steve, having wandered into the room where Thor set up beer pong in the middle of the second round, are leaning against the wall, watching and occasionally shouting encouragement. Mostly, they’re picking random decorative objects in the room and giving them personalities and silly voices (“hi, I'm an Armani vase and I cost $267, but it's okay, I'm shinier than Patrick Stewart's forehead so I’m worth it”).

Then Steve goes to get more food, leaving Sam to his own devices. He takes a bite of the banana he grabbed earlier, because someone (it’s Pepper, he personally thanked her) actually brought fruit to this party. He hasn’t thought about it beyond that, but then Tony comes in and says, “You like fruit, huh?”

Oh. So that’s how it is. Sam very deliberately lowers the banana from anywhere near his face and says warily, “I do, I guess.”

“Me too,” says Tony, which they both know is a lie. “Seems like you know your way around a banana pretty well. If you catch my drift.”

“Unfortunately.” This is mostly just funny because it’s so bad, so Sam’s not bothered.

Tony’s in the middle of another stupid innuendo when Steve returns. “Is something going on here?” he asks, because as far as Tony’s concerned it’s never a bad guess.

“Something’s a good word for it,” says Sam wryly.

“Do I dare ask?” Steve presses.

“Just seeing how open the relationship is,” Tony says with a casual shrug.

“Hey,” calls Natasha, getting everyone’s attention. “Hey, Stark, as soon as I finish this round, you wanna go?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, but on one condition. If I win, you guys have to invite me to an orgy.”

“To a what now?” Bucky asks.

“I think he said orgy,” Steve says, his tone belying his complete confusion.

“You are aware the five of us don’t actually have sex all at once very often, right?” Natasha asks.

“Well, I wanna come too,” says Tony stubbornly.

Natasha smirks. “Alright, Stark, bet’s on. Let me just…” She tosses the ball and it makes an elegant arc right into Thor and Sif’s last cup. Sif graciously grabs the cup and downs it.

“You have beaten us!” says Thor cheerfully. “Well played.”

“You too,” replies Bucky. He and Natasha still have three cups in front of them, so it was a pretty even match. “Alright, I guess we’re setting up for another?”

“Wait!” yelps Tony, and runs out of the room.

“Don’t suppose he’s changed his mind?” Sam asks.

“Nah, he’s probably getting a partner,” Natasha says. “Speaking of, Steve, you’re up.”

Steve sighs, eats a last piece of cantaloupe, and crosses to the table. “Glad to help,” he says with an ironic sort of smile. “We’re not really going to consider…”

“No, of course not,” she says with a laugh. “But there’s no way Stark will beat us, so. I’m not worried at all.”

Sharon, who’s apparently caught wind of what’s going on, storms inside. “This is a joke, right?” she asks.

“I mean, it’s a joke in that Tony is a joke,” Bucky replies. “The actual beer pong part, no.”

“So… if he manages to eke out a victory, what do we do?” Sharon asks.

“I’ve been watching her kick Thor and Sif’s asses for the last two rounds,” says Sam, nodding at Natasha. “No way he will.”

“But if he does,” Sharon insists. She’s had a couple, which might be accounting for how desperate she sounds when she says, “I am not letting Tony Stark anywhere near my naked body.”

“I mean, he said orgy,” Natasha points out, coming over to squeeze Sharon’s hand comfortingly. “Not who, specifically, was gonna be in it.”

“I’m really good at bending rules,” Steve says with the kind of smirk he reserves for his people.

Then Tony reappears, followed by Rhodey and Happy and (much more reluctantly) Mack, the latter of whom is still dripping slightly from the pool. “Okay,” Tony says cheerfully, “everybody good to go?”

“I get how you dragged the other two, but why the hell is Mack subjecting himself to this?” Sharon asks.

Mack sighs. “He tried to pick Bruce, so I stepped in.”

“I mean, honestly, you’re probably the better choice,” Tony adds. “And you’re just the sub, so you don’t need to worry unless one of us crashes, which won’t happen.”

Bucky snorts. “That’s what someone said.”

Meanwhile, Thor has been (mostly neatly) refilling the cups and setting them up again, with Melinda’s help since she’s far more sober. “To your stations!” he calls, grinning.

Tony and Rhodey go to one end of the table, Steve and Natasha the other. Mack, Happy, Sam, and Bucky stand off to the side. Sif, who’s stepped away from the table, is giggling. “What’s so funny?” Melinda asks, amused.

“Everything,” says Sif. “But mostly the Norse rules.”

“We shall conduct this tournament using the rules of my people,” says Thor. “First, before the game begins, players must kiss their partners.”

Natasha laughs before leaning over to kiss Steve. Of course, it’s nothing new for them. Then she wanders over to kiss Sam, then Bucky, and Sharon comes over for a kiss too. Steve follows suit.

Tony watches, looking very unhappy. Then he turns to Rhodey. “Hey, just like old times,” he says with a shaky grin.

“Not sure I would call twice while piss-drunk in your dorm room ‘old times,’” mutters Rhodey with a good-natured roll of his eyes, but he obligingly kisses Tony.

“Ooh,” Darcy says from the sidelines, snapping pictures.

“Also,” adds Thor, “after every round your team must switch sides of the table!”

“Won’t that mess up the scoring?” Sharon asks.

“Perhaps.” Thor grins. “But it will be most amusing!”

“Excuse me,” interjects Tony, “but exactly how many of these weird new rules are there?”

“A very long list! But I’ll only add a few more. If you somehow spill a cup while moving around the table, you must drink one of your own cups. And after a team has less than half their cups left, each member of that side must balance an empty bottle on their head while throwing. If your bottle falls, you must drink a separate shot.”

“This seems unnecessarily complicated,” Steve says, trying not to make too much of a face.

“That’s the point!” calls Sif cheerfully.

“Is everyone ready?” Thor asks.

Natasha grins. “Bring it on, Stark.”

 

* * *

 

Melinda goes to get another beer somewhere around the time Tony bumps into the table and spills a drink the second time. As she’s rummaging in the cooler, she hears a voice say, “Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, that’s a very nice view.”

She rolls her eyes and turns around. Of course it’s Howard, still on his inflatable seat, smirking. “What’s your name again?”

“Fuck off,” says Melinda, but there’s no real bite behind it, because Howard Stark doesn’t deserve her anger. Grabbing her beer, she walks away.

“Shouldn’t you have learned by the forty-fifth time?” Ana calls, giggling over her glass of sangria.

Peggy sighs. “I’d have dragged him out and tied him down to keep him from chasing after people, but I know he’d like it too much to be effective.”

Angie snorts and murmurs into Peggy’s ear, “I thought that was just for me?”

“Yes, all right, see you all on Monday,” Peggy calls out, grabbing Angie’s hand and heading for the door, giggling wickedly.

 

* * *

 

This is Jemma’s first pool party, and she’s realizing she hopes it will be her last.

Everything’s so _loud_ , and everyone’s a bit drunk, and none of the conventional pool activities (swimming, splashing around, apparently beer pong and dancing) suit her in the slightest. Bobbi and Skye are off dancing, looking marvelous and sexy and like they’re having a great time, but watching them got old fast.

So Jemma does what she’s always done when she’s absolutely miserable (and what she often does if she’s a bit drunk herself).

She rings Fitz.

They video-call when it’s available, because it’s easier to understand when there’s voices _and_ faces, and so never mind the ambient party noise, that’s what she’s doing. When he picks up, he’s looking a bit smug. “Hi,” he says. “How is it, then?”

“Completely _miserable_ ,” she groans. “Stark’s having some beer pong championship to guarantee his entrance to an orgy and flamingos sound like rusty saws dragging across old, grooved wood.”

Fitz makes a sympathetic face at that, but still says, “You had to know that was going to happen, going outside.”

“What about going inside implies required orgy beer pong?” she exclaims.

He shrugs. “Fair point, I guess. Still, it’s nice and quiet here.” He moves his phone around so she can see his empty room.

“You’re not being nice,” she says, her tone somewhere between threatening and forlorn.

“Never said I was.”

“That’s the entire point of friendship,” Jemma mumbles. “You’re supposed to be nice to each other and not rub it in each other’s faces when one of you gets dragged to what’s essentially a fraternity party somewhat unwillingly and you’re supposed to be sympathetic. I’d be sympathetic if Trip dragged _you_ here.”

“Yeah, but you’re nicer than me,” he points out.

Then Skye comes over and gently wriggles Jemma’s phone out of her hand. “Bye, Fitz,” she says sweetly before hanging up. Then she turns to Jemma. “Hey, honey, you seem sad,” she murmurs.

Jemma makes a face. The entire point of calling Fitz was so she wouldn’t interrupt Skye having a nice time, but apparently that didn’t work. “Just uncomfortable,” she finally admits. “I don’t think this suits me very much.”

“Aw. I’m sorry.” Skye runs her hand down Jemma’s arm. “Will snuggles help?”

“I don’t want to bother you,” Jemma mumbles. “You’re dancing and happy and it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to stop on my account.”

“But I wanna take care of you,” Skye says. “I don’t need to be dancing, I mean, it’s whatever.”

“I don’t wanna be selfish,” Jemma says, staring at her (rather blindingly pale) legs.

“You’re not,” Skye replies, coming around to spoon her.

Jemma sighs, wiggling against Skye. “You’re so sweet to me,” she says.

Skye kisses her shoulder. “You deserve it,” she whispers.

Bobbi comes twirling over, beers in hand. “Anyone for another?” she asks cheerfully. They could theoretically be snuggling like that no matter their mood.

“This one needs water and starches, I think,” Skye says, running a hand through Jemma’s hair.

“Yes, please,” Jemma says pitifully.

“Aw, kid,” Bobbi frowns. “Too much too fast?”

Jemma nods.

“I’ve got her, can you get the stuff?”

“Of course,” Bobbi says. “Be right back.” She sets the beers down on a nearby table and hurries off.

“I feel pathetic,” Jemma whispers.

“You aren’t,” Skye reassures her, petting her hair more. “You’re just out of your depth. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says. “Are parties like this always so…?”

“I mean, most of my experience with them is in movies.” Skye shrugs. “I’d say probably they’re even louder and dumber most of the time.”

“Well, like many parties of this kind, I’ve punched at least one of the guests,” Bobbi says with a smile, coming over with the entire bowl of pretzels and a glass of water.

Skye grins. “Who have you punched?”

“The douche in the inner tube,” Bobbi says cheerfully, nodding in Howard’s direction.

Jemma’s eyes go wide. “ _Really_?”

“Elaborate,” pleads Skye.

“Oh, he hit on me after trivia last summer,” Bobbi says casually, but she knows it will impress them, so she’s smirking a little.

“So then you hit on him, literally?” Skye’s grinning.

“Pretty much.” Bobbi lays back on the blanket and scoots so Jemma can rest her head on her chest. “Which is, incidentally, the reason I’ve punched nine out of ten people that I might run into at a party.”

“Makes sense,” Jemma giggles. After a moment nuzzled up to Bobbi’s tit she adds, “You’re so pretty.”

“Aw, thanks,” Bobbi says, pretend-bashful. “You are too, honey.”

Skye flops on Bobbi’s other side. “What about me?” she whines playfully.

“You’re pretty too,” Bobbi says obligingly. “We’re all pretty.”

“Sure are,” Jemma agrees, grabbing Skye’s hand.

“And pretty ridiculous, too,” Bobbi chuckles. “But hey. Those assholes are in there duking it out over proposed group sex, but we have no such drama here.”

Skye laughs. “Nope. Never ever.”

 

* * *

 

“For this next round,” Thor announces with a devious grin, “everyone must balance this empty bottle on their head while they shoot. If they cannot, they must take an extra shot!”

From the sidelines, Sharon groans; at the table, Steve smiles somewhat shakily. “My turn to go first?” he asks, because he’d rather get it over with.

“Be my guest,” says Tony, gesturing in a slightly wobbly fashion.

Steve places the bottle on his head and starts to throw. He manages to score, but the bottle wobbles off his head and Sam catches it before it hits the ground. “Oh,” he says faintly, pouring a shot and knocking it back.

Natasha snorts fondly. “Nice try.”

“Indeed.” Tony holds out his hand. Sam rolls his eyes and hands it to him, but he can’t even keep the bottle upright for long enough to throw the ball. Luckily, the bottle just rolls for a few feet and then stops. Tony shrugs and downs a shot.

“Seems like you boys need to take an etiquette class,” quips Natasha, taking the bottle after Mack retrieves it and keeping it perfectly balanced on her head as she shoots it into one of the three remaining cups in front of Tony and Rhodey.

“Great,” sighs Rhodey, who just downs the shot without even bothering to take the bottle.

Thor laughs uproariously. “A valiant effort!”

Rhodey chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m out. Happy, you’re up. I’m gonna call a cab.”

Tony pouts. “Party pooper.”

“Yup, that’s me.” Rhodey cheerfully flips him off on the way out of the room. Happy steps up to take his place, looking very uncertain.

“What’s next?” Steve asks after they rotate around the table, sounding at least a bit like he wants to follow Rhodey’s example but sounding more like he refuses to concede.

“Everyone must throw with their non-dominant hand in this round!”

Happy glances at Tony. “Um, I guess you’re up?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Tony’s slurring his words a little, and he definitely misses every single cup.

Steve manages to get one of the cups, barely, and seems surprised that he even did that. Happy also misses, shrugging, and then Natasha hits another of their cups perfectly. “I’m ambidextrous,” she adds with a smirk. “Maybe I should’ve led with that.”

Tony looks as if he regrets his entire life.

 

* * *

 

Wanda’s sitting on the side of the pool, dangling her feet in the water and reading, when Tony, who has drunk an obscene amount, wanders over. “Hey,” he slurs, putting his hand on her arm. “Whatcha reading?”

He’s barely gotten the words out before she’s stiffened at the unexpected physical contact and whirled around to hit him in the face with the (not insubstantial) hardcover book. He yelps and backs away, and she glares warily at him. “Stark,” she says, her tone a warning. “Do not touch me again.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he mutters, one hand over the eye where the corner of the book got him. “Noted. You got a hell of a swing there. Nice arm, by the way.”

She lets her eyes flick to her tattoo sleeve. “Thanks. I think you should leave now.”

“I mean, I dunno, aside from the book to the face this is a perfectly civil conversation…”

“Tony, what are you doing?” Steve asks, appearing behind them with a disapproving look.

“Something you disapprove of, I’m sure,” quips Tony.

“I don’t think it’s right to keep on giving unwanted attention when you know it’s unwanted,” Steve says.

Tony snorts. “You don’t think. _You_ don’t think. Well, I don’t think meddling is so great either. You know, you’re so self-righteous sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth.”

“I suspect that wouldn’t end the way you think it would,” mutters Wanda.

“Look, Wanda, I’m sorry if I’m meddling,” Steve declares, because that’s the more important thing to address. “I just don’t like watching… that.” He shrugs a bit.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Steve,” Wanda says with a shrug, throwing another glare Tony’s way.

Tony pauses as if waiting to see if Steve’s going to leave. When he doesn’t, Tony shrugs sloppily and ambles off, calling, “You know where to find me if you want me.”

“You okay?” Steve asks, sitting down beside Wanda but at a respectful distance.

She shrugs. “I suppose so. He just startled me. I don’t...physical contact is not something I like to be surprised by.”

He nods. “Unfortunately, it seems to be par for the course with Tony, especially if he’s had a few too many,” he sighs. “I really don’t mean to overstep, by the way. Nat and Sharon have told me I’m a little too much of a white knight sometimes, it’s a hard habit to break.”

That makes Wanda laugh. “No, it’s fine. I could have taken care of him myself, but I appreciate the help. How was the beer pong? Although I think I can guess, judging from his behavior.”

“He lost, if that’s what you mean,” Steve chuckles. “Mostly because of Natasha.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow and is about to ask for more details when Natasha comes up and sits down next to Steve. “I heard my name,” she says with a smirk. “Are you telling her about how we kicked Tony’s ass?”

“I was about to,” he replies.

“Yeah, so Tony’s got shit aim anyway and then Thor had all these crazy Norse rules that made it great for us, not so much for him,” explains Natasha. “Like, throwing with your non-dominant hand isn’t a big deal when you’re ambidextrous. Neither is balancing a beer bottle on your head when you’ve done it in ballet class.”

Wanda giggles. “This sounds absurd.”

“I think he might have been making some of them up on the spot,” Steve confesses, smirking.

Pietro lazily backstrokes by. “I don’t understand why you were playing beer pong with Tony Stark anyway,” he says, grinning. “That seems like a bad idea. Fun, though.”

“Tony challenged them,” Sharon says, flopping down beside Natasha and laying a head on her shoulder. “And if he won, he got to come to one of our orgies.”

“Orgies?” Pietro lets himself drop out of the backstroke. “Is this a common occurrence for you?”

“Apparently,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Because a committed polyamorous relationship is exactly the same as constant nonstop orgies that we open to all of our friends.”

Pietro laughs. “Ah, I see. I suppose to him, it would be.”

Wanda tilts her head. “I suspect he was trying to repair the damage to his ego by flirting with me.”

“Probably,” agrees Natasha. “Idiot.”

Bucky and Sam appear a few minutes later to share more highlights from the game, and they’re all snickering when Tony shuffles back over, another beer in hand. “And another thing,” he slurs. “I thought you were my friend!” He waves the beer at Steve. “Friends invite friends to orgies!”

Steve looks around, a little befuddled. He’s not _not_ Tony’s friend, but they don’t exactly spend a lot of social time together. “It’s not really that simple,” he says instead of trying to explain that.

“No they don’t,” mutters Bucky to Sam, who laughs.

“Whatever,” grunts Tony. “I propose a new bet! I bet that I can beat you in paintball. Winner takes all. I’ll rent out the whole course next weekend. It’s on.”

Steve frowns. “Can we have a minute?”

“Take as long as you need.” Tony spreads his arms out dramatically and almost hits Bucky in the face.

“Takes all of _what_?” Sharon mutters, looking considerably annoyed.

“Let’s talk about it,” Sam says, glaring at Tony until he turns his back, mumbling.

“So,” Bucky says, smirking. “Apparently the five of us are irresistible or something.”

“I think it’s more about Tony wanting what he can’t have,” Sharon snarks.

Natasha snorts and nods. “You’re not wrong, I’m sure. So, are we doing this or no?”

Steve shrugs. “I’d say yes, but how does everyone else feel?”

“Yes,” Sharon says instantly. “Let’s kick his ass.”

“I’m in,” says Sam. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done it, but hell, it can’t be that hard.”

Bucky nods, looking eager. “Hell, I can’t imagine he has _that_ many people he could convince to be on his team. We’ll wipe the floor with him.”

Wanda, who’s been watching the entire discussion awkwardly, chimes in, “I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to move or not, sorry.”

“You’re welcome to be part of the discussion,” Steve says, shrugging.

She laughs. “It’s not really my place to say. I assume I wouldn’t be part of the orgy. But if you’d like, I can come to the game. Pietro would probably come too.”

“Why not,” says Natasha with a shrug. “The more the merrier, or something.”

Steve turns back to Tony, nodding. “We’re in,” he announces.

“Great!” Tony says. “Invite everyone you know! We’ll pick teams day of, then it’ll be fair. I know you like things fair, Steve.”

“Uh-huh,” says Steve, his expression on the sarcastic side of neutral.


	94. here's a simplification of everything we're going through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony calls a paintball war to try to settle a (mostly one-sided) grudge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither of us have actually played paintball and we got most of the information from the Community paintball episodes, so if we've fucked something up, please forgive us.
> 
> Cw: slurs (homophobic, sexist), general Nazi behavior.
> 
> We've been planning this for months. Happy Civil War!

“I’m still not entirely sure how this got so personal,” Steve sighs, glancing around the parking lot in front of the paintball course. Initially, the plan had seemed like “I bring ten friends, you bring ten friends, and we rumble at dawn,” but the week went on and word kept getting out, which is how there are now literal dozens of mall employees and friends waiting to duke it out for one man’s right to group sex. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience as the team captain.”

Bucky grins. “I mean, you seem to be Tony’s target. He definitely wants you the most. I think the rest of us are just a bonus.”

“Can you blame him?” Sam jokes. “I’d be jealous of us too.”

Sharon snorts. “I think he just wants to say he did us to say he did us,” she declares.

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Natasha, rolling her eyes and smirking. “Hell of a notch in his bedpost, or whatever.”

“Hey, guys,” calls Clint, wandering over. “So, uh, what exactly is the plan here? I mean, I’m assuming you have a plan.”

“Do whatever it takes to shut Tony up,” Sharon says immediately.

“Works.” He shrugs. “I mean, this just seems like a lot of effort to go to for an orgy. Not that you guys aren’t, y’know.” He waves his hand ineffectually.

“Look, Barton, if you want to sleep with any of them be my guest,” says Natasha, snickering. “Just let me know so I can be as far away as possible.”

Clint seems almost offended. “I already have somebody, thanks. I don’t have time to juggle anybody else too.”

Just then there’s a commotion, which turns out to be “Back in Black” blaring on a phone, and Tony Stark enters, followed by Rhodey, Happy, and Pepper (looking increasingly less thrilled to be here). “Alright!” he calls, clapping his hands for attention. “I’m gonna assume everybody who was planning on coming is here.”

“Seems legit,” Darcy shouts.

Tony ignores her. “Long story short for everyone who wasn’t clear, I am one team captain, he’s the other.” He points at Steve. “We’ll have everybody group up and pick one by one, that way it’s fair.”

“Still legit,” Darcy adds.

“Kill shots are to the chest or ribs,” Tony continues. “You get hit anywhere else, doesn’t count.”

“Shots to the head, groin, or breasts are off-limits,” Steve adds hastily, because if he doesn’t nobody will. “If you’re caught doing this, you’ll…”

“There’s a five-minute penalty,” Sharon chimes in, sounding more like she knows what she’s doing. “The penalty box will be at the front of the course, guarded by Matt.” She’s just now picking him for this, but it seems reasonable.

Matt perks up. He’d been rather confused about what, exactly, he was meant to do. “Uh, hi,” he says, nodding to everyone. “That’s me.”

“I’ll start,” says Tony, “since it was my idea.”

Sharon rolls her eyes.

“Rhodey!” he says, surprising no one.

Rhodey, who had of course been expecting this, chuckles and goes over to stand next to him.

“Bucky,” Steve calls, also surprising no one. Bucky squeezes his hand once they’re standing together.

“Pepper!” says Tony, who is obviously taking advantage of all his friends.

“Sam,” Steve declares.

Sam, who finds the idea of annoying Tony hilarious, goes over to kiss Steve’s cheek.

Tony narrows his eyes. “Natasha.”

Natasha blinks, then, with a glance at her group, walks over to Tony’s without a word.

Steve falters. He does. “Uh. Sharon.” As if to reassure him, Sharon kisses his other cheek upon her approach.

“Happy,” Tony calls, who looks relieved.

“Wanda,” Steve says.

Wanda also looks relieved, shooting Steve a grateful smile.

“Bruce,” Tony says, looking a little smug about this choice. Bruce just looks nervous.

“Pietro,” Steve says, nodding encouragingly. Pietro grins and jogs over, apparently eager to get started.

Tony scans the crowd for a moment before saying, “Van Dyne.”

Hope makes a face. She was expecting to get picked by Tony, and going along with it is the polite thing to do, but she’s still not into it.

“Kara,” Steve calls, waving her over.

Kara looks a bit surprised to be called so soon, but she’s glad she’s on Steve’s team and she heads over, pulling her ponytail tighter.

“Quill,” says Tony. Quill is one of the few here who actually knows what’s at stake and agrees with Tony. He’s grinning as he ambles over to Tony’s group.

“Jessica,” says Steve. Jessica, conversely, knows what’s up, finds it stupid, and just wants to kick some people’s asses at paintball (but she agrees with Steve, too).

Tony thinks for a second and then says, “Rosalind.” He’s starting to pick the scariest people.

“Trish,” Steve calls, because if he doesn’t Tony might and he promised to avoid that.

“Lorelei,” Tony says, looking intimidated even as he says it.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Luke.” Luke seems relieved.

“Maya,” calls Tony. When Rhodey gives him a funny look, he explains, “She knows my weakness.” Meaning he doesn’t trust her not to shoot him in the dick if she’s on the other team.

Steve thinks for a moment before announcing, “Thor.”

“Maria.” Also not trusting her not to shoot him in the dick.

“Drax,” Steve declares.

Drax grins and says, “I am excited for this!” as he comes over to Steve’s side.

Tony calls “Gamora” and Gamora mutters “That makes one of us,” glaring at Drax, then glaring at Quill for good measure.

“Clint,” Steve says. Clint comes over and immediately pokes Steve so he can whisper something in his ear.

“Hunter.”

“Laura.” Clint’s beaming as she joins Steve’s side.

“Sif.”

“Bobbi.”

“Isabelle.”

“Skye.”

“Christine.”

“Jemma.”

“Nebula.” Nebula rolls her eyes at this, but ambles over anyway.

“Melinda.”

From there, it goes quickly enough. Tony gets Fury (who’s grumbling all the while), Fandral (who he’d also recruited with intention), Volstagg, Irani, Elena (she’s new, apparently, and nobody seems to know her except Joey from the arcade, but Tony could get into that), Fitz, Jane, Loki, Billy and Eric (who should be able to tag team, right?), Peter and Gwen (who came in full rubber), Darcy, Linnea, Karen, Helen, and the little Hope. Steve gets Hogun, Mack, Mike, Bereet, Trip, Joey, Akela, Coulson, Heimdall, Raina, Vanessa, Malcolm, Foggy, Audrey, and Ian, the list of whom seem increasingly less enthusiastic as time goes on.

“Okay,” says Tony, “you have two minutes to get settled and then it’s game on! And may the best billionaire win!”

Sharon rolls her eyes and hoists her gun, nodding to her boyfriends. “Are we strategizing?” she asks as they head toward the course.

“Do we need to?” Sam asks. “I mean, it’s Tony. Guy’s not exactly a keen strategist.”

“If he was, he’d have given the teams a few minutes to strategize as a group,” Steve observes, “but it’s not an entirely horrible idea.”

“We should take out his heavy hitters first,” Bucky says. “Sif, Tasha, Melinda, Gamora. Probably Rhodey and Maria too.”

Sharon nods. “I’d worry about Fury if he’s actually planning on participating, but I doubt that somehow,” she smirks.

Sam snickers. “I get the feeling a lot of them are not gonna be giving it their all.”

Bobbi skips up, twirling the paint lightsaber she apparently rigged up for the occasion. (It’s inefficient but it’s _so cool_.) “Conveniently, a lot of us on Team Not Asshole are actually dedicated to preserving things like emotional agency and ethical relationships, though,” she says casually. “Also, a lot of us might just want to kick someone’s ass.”

Skye comes up behind her, grinning. “I mean, that’s the only reason I’m here.”

“The other things are important, too,” Jemma says, arriving on their tail. “But these two have been giddy about the ass-kicking all week.”

“Damn right,” says Skye cheerfully, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“I don’t know if it will get quite to ass-kicking levels,” Steve says, because he’s trying not to encourage any devolution into chaos.

“Paintball can be vicious,” Bobbi says wisely. “With a competitive bunch like this, trying to avoid it is a noble fallacy.”

Sharon smirks. “Asses will be kicked no matter what.”

 

* * *

 

So it turns out? Paintball is not that exciting.

Darcy doesn’t really have a strategy, which might account for this boredom; her only real plan consists of singing “Eye of the Tiger” as she walks around looking for people to shoot, and this loses its novelty after a few minutes. Especially since she doesn’t actually know all of the words to that song and keeps sliding into singing the word “something” to the appropriate tune.

Finally, she notices Elena prowling around and perks up. Maybe there’s someone around here to get into it with after all. She follows and is met with the sight of Elena and Bucky mostly just stalking each other in circles. After a couple minutes of this, Bucky pops out from behind one of the giant tires and fires off a round at her, just managing to graze her arm before she darts out of the way. She counters with a bullet to his knee, which makes him yelp and spin out of the way before he ducks behind the tire again.

This is really cool to watch, actually, but neither of them seems to notice Darcy literally standing in the open just staring and waiting to get involved. So she holds her gun to her chest, shoots herself basically in the boob because it’s not like she’ll get penalized for doing it to herself, and finds a place to sit, taking her phone out to video this.

 

* * *

 

After ten minutes of staking out what looks like a glorified treehouse, Pepper turns to Rhodey and announces, “I’m done.”

Rhodey laughs. “Can’t blame you.”

“There’s a glass of wine at my place that’s just calling my name,” she says, smirking mirthlessly as she stands and brushes herself off.

“Enjoy that,” Rhodey says. “If Tony asks, I’ll give him a good excuse.”

Pepper salutes as she walks toward the exit.

 

* * *

  
Loki doesn’t actually give a whit for Tony’s absurd goal, but he’s glad he’s on Tony’s team. It’s the perfect opportunity to take revenge on his brother for being so ridiculous about what happened at dinner a month ago.

He spends a good ten minutes slinking around, keeping an eye out for Thor, before finally spotting him. This requires patience, so he carefully follows Thor around for a few minutes, ducking behind various engineered hiding spots.

Then he sees the perfect opportunity, and waits until Thor is right in his line of fire before popping up to shoot at him, giggling manically.

Unfortunately, he didn’t think to account for Thor’s quick reflexes. Thor slides out of the way with no more than a graze of his arm, and those bullets run smack into Fandral, who seems to be more interested in taking selfies. He’s a little taken aback when the paint splatters all over his side, and he immediately picks up his gun and hits Loki with a wave of bullets in return. “So much for teamwork!” he responds, ducking out of the way of retaliation.

Thor, who saw the tail end of this exchange, is laughing.

 

* * *

 

“So this is stupid,” Nebula says.

“Incredibly,” Gamora mutters. Her paintball gun of choice, which is really more like a rifle, is resting on her shoulder as she looks around.

Nebula glances around too, then spots Loki skulking around after Thor nearby. “You wanna send off a little friendly fire?” she asks with an evil smirk.

“That’s a little devious of you,” Gamora remarks, but she’s already getting her gun in place.

“Hell, I’ll let you pick the next target,” says Nebula, taking aim before hitting Loki directly in the shoulder. “Whoops.”

Loki spins around with a yelp, but Nebula and Gamora have already sauntered off in the direction of their next victim.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry,” Maya mutters.

“For what?” Maria asks, casually firing at Pietro as he runs by (and missing, because she’s not actually trying).

“Sleeping with Tony years ago,” Maya says.

“What’s that got to do with this?”

“I’m about 98% sure that’s why he picked me, and by extension you.” Maya makes a face. “It’s clearly not because I’m any good at this.”

“But hey, you’re cute and that counts for something,” says Maria playfully.

Maya blushes. “I’ll still make it up to you,” she offers.

Maria’s about to ask her to elaborate when she spots Jessica aiming at them and hisses “Duck!” Once they’re fully hidden behind the plastic fence they’ve claimed as their base, she smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Make it up to me how?”

“Well, you’re being so generous, protecting me,” Maya says with a shrug, “I ought to be generous in return.”

“I’d be up for that,” replies Maria. She pops up to fire off a couple rounds, hitting Foggy in the arm, before ducking again. “I mean, when I’m on a team I actually give a fuck about, I’m pretty good.”

“I think you’re doing okay for yourself here,” Maya giggles. “But I get what you mean.”

 

* * *

 

Mack feels another bullet hit his shoulder and sighs. He knows exactly where it’s from - Tony’s been chasing him since basically the start of the game. He turns around and fires a couple of warning shots before jogging away, looking for a hiding place that’s unoccupied.

“ _Psst_ ,” Bobbi hisses from somewhere to his right.

Noting the general area of where the noise is coming from, he feints to the left, hoping it will fool Tony into thinking he’s gone that way, and then drops to the ground and crawls on his stomach until he reaches the wall where he’s pretty sure Bobbi’s hiding. “Hey,” he mutters. “You back there?”

“We sure are,” Bobbi says, loud enough for him to hear but no louder.

“We?” He scoots around to the other side of it, and sees that not only is Bobbi back there, but Jemma and Skye too. “Oh,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Jemma says with a smile. “We were just finishing up strategy.”

“Have you seen Bobbi’s lightsaber?” Skye hisses excitedly.

“Her what now?”

Bobbi lays said item out on her lap, grinning. “I rigged it up to spray paint,” she announces proudly. “It seemed important.”

“Jesus.” Mack grins. “You’re ridiculous.”

“-ly awesome, I know,” Bobbi says smugly. “You look like someone’s been after you.”

“Yeah, Stark’s still mad about Bruce, apparently.” Mack rolls his eyes again. “Won’t get off my ass. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to use that saber to help out?”

“I was just looking for an excuse,” Bobbi smirks. “You hold down the fort, honey, Skye and I go kick some ass?”

Jemma nods. “I’ll do my utmost,” she promises.

Skye leans over to kiss Jemma’s cheek before grinning at Bobbi. “Let’s kick some ass!”

Bobbi stands, twirling her lightsaber into place. “Let’s,” she agrees. “Which direction did the manbaby go in?”

Mack waves his hand in the general direction he last saw Tony go. Skye’s practically skipping as she follows Bobbi in search of Tony.

“Luck,” Jemma calls after them, sighing wistfully.

 

* * *

 

Jessica fires and hits Quill dead-on in the crotch. “How you like that?” she calls, and then mutters, “Teach you to hit on my girl.”

“Jess, please,” Trish implores, trying not to roll her eyes. “It’s not like he seriously offended me.”

“Yeah, but he deserved the dick shot anyway.”

Trish sighs. “Aren’t we supposed to avoid crotch shots?”

“Technically,” Luke says with a shrug. He notices Linnea standing around looking bored and annoyed, and fires off a mercy kill shot. She mouths a thank you and goes to sit with Claire at the nurse’s station. “I don’t think it matters that much if the referee doesn’t see, though.”

“I’m not gonna do it to everybody,” says Jessica. “Just the assholes who deserve it.”

“Is this your version of chivalry?” Trish asks.

“Gross. I just wanted to shoot them in the dick.”

Hope V. pops up and hits Luke in the leg, so he fires back, but misses. “That’s enough standing around for me,” he says, walking away.

“Yeah, where’s Captain Dickbag himself?” Jessica asks, scanning the area.

“We could go find him,” Trish suggests.

Jessica nods and heads off without another word, Trish following close behind.

 

* * *

 

Fitz eyes Bruce a little warily. The two of them had been instructed to “put your genius heads together and science some shit” by Tony, but Fitz is fairly sure there’s no good way to apply science to paintball while literally in the middle of a game. “Um,” he says shyly.

Bruce shrugs. “I don’t know what Tony wants us to do either, if that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Okay, good,” says Fitz, relieved. “Because I don’t...I’m not sure _he_ even knows what he wants us to do.”

“He probably doesn’t,” sighs Bruce. “If he’d asked me beforehand I might’ve been able to modify some of his guns, but…”

“I could’ve done something with one of those fancy drones of his,” Fitz offers.

“That would’ve been cool.” Bruce smiles. “You’re studying mechanical engineering, right?”

Fitz nods. “I mean, I started in physics but then I decided I liked building robots.” He grins. “My final project is a series of droids with specialized reconnaissance programming. It’s pretty cool, if I do say so myself.”

“It sounds cool,” Bruce says. “How’s that going?”

“Well, I’m having a bit of trouble with the-”

Tony runs by to yell “Less science talk, more actual science!” before disappearing again.

Bruce sighs. “I guess we’d better pretend to be doing something. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s my friend, sort of.”

Fitz snorts. “I guess. I’ll just go find a place to hole up, then. I’ll message you later on the secret internet about my project?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

Isabelle ambles up to Victoria, who is sitting on one of the decorative barrels looking done with everything. “Hey, sexy,” she purrs.

Victoria rolls her eyes, but fondly. “You’re lucky I already married you,” she says.

“Yup, you’re stuck with me,” replies Isabelle with a smirk. “You wanna finish this off and get out of here? I hate having to hold this thing.” She gestures with the gun.

“Well, you look hot with it, anyway,” Victoria counters, “but I’m game for that if you are.”

“Thanks.” Isabelle shoots her in the chest, then drops her arms to let Victoria do the same. “I mean, if it’s doing something for you I can keep holding it for a little while longer, I guess.”

Victoria shoots Isabelle, then shrugs. “I’d rather see you holding something you like,” she says, and she doesn’t mean it to sound _that_ dirty but she also doesn’t mind that it does.

That makes Isabelle laugh. “How about we go do something about that?”

“I’d be happy to,” Victoria says, dropping her gun and taking Isabelle’s hand.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s having a great time shooting at anyone who seem like they might be even a bit of a threat (he’s mostly sparing the people who look frightened or out of their depth) when suddenly he’s almost knocked off his feet by a spray of bullets that hit him square in the back. He flips around, barely putting his arms up in time to shield himself from another onslaught. “The fu-”

The guy firing at him is someone he’s never seen before, who _definitely_ wasn’t there when they were picking teams. He’s tall, dark-skinned, wearing all-black, and staring at Bucky intently. “Uh, okay,” says Bucky. “I don’t think we’ve met…”

Then he has to dance out of the way of another round the new guy fires off, and at this point he decides the best course of action is to switch to defensive measures and takes off like his ass is on fire, turning back to fire occasionally. “Steve!” he bellows, not sure where his boyfriend is. “I could use some help here when you have a sec!”

Steve appears from behind a tower made of reinforced, recycled plastic and grins. He’s got his gun in one hand and what appears to be a trash can lid in the other. “What’s going on?”

Bucky dives behind the tower and glances around before saying, “Some guy I’ve never seen before just fired a round into my back, and then tried to get me out when I turned to see who the fuck he was. He definitely wasn’t here earlier.”

“You mean when we were picking teams?” Steve asks, although it’s fairly clear.

“Yeah.” Bucky pokes his head out to check, but the mystery man seems to have disappeared. “Pretty sure Stark cheated.”

Steve sighs elaborately. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”

Bucky grins. “Yeah. So, now there’s a mystery guy who apparently wants to fuck me up. Just so you know.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Steve promises.

“Thanks.” Bucky pats his arm affectionately.

 

* * *

 

“Hell,” Ian mutters, fumbling with his gun.

Wanda, jogging by, stops. “Having trouble?”

“A bit,” he says. “This pump-action thing looks much simpler in the movies.”

She smiles. “Here, let me help.” She takes his gun and fiddles with it for a moment before managing to cock it successfully. “There.”

“Thanks.” He frowns, admitting, “I didn’t really know what I was doing firing it off the first time. I’m sort of improvising.”

“I think most of us are,” she says with a laugh. “I hadn’t fired a gun before today.”

“You seem to have picked it up just fine, though?”

She shrugs. “It isn’t something I see myself doing regularly. You can come with me if you want, though.”

“Please?” Ian asks, chuckling at his own desperation. “Normally I’d just tag along with Darcy, but she got drafted onto Stark’s team…”

Chuckling, Wanda nods. “Pietro ran off somewhere, I don’t know where. He likes this much more than I do. We can stick together though.”

“Thanks,” he replies. “I’m rubbish at this sort of thing. Not a coincidence I got picked last.”

“It’s all right,” she says kindly. “Most people here aren’t very good. No one cares. We are all here to have fun, or something like that.”

“Darcy said this is really all over an orgy?” he asks.

She wrinkles her nose and nods. “Stark had a pool party last week and challenged Steve and his partners to a game of beer pong, so he could sleep with them. He lost, so he came up with this instead.”

“Wouldn’t that mean that if he does sleep with them, it will be under coercion?”

“I think so? But they don’t seem all that concerned. I think because most of Stark’s team are only here because he picked them.”

Ian nods. “Makes sense. This all seems comical, honestly.”

That makes Wanda grin. “It is, but I’m enjoying myself. I’m going to go find something to do, you’re welcome to come if you want.”

“Yeah,” he says, getting ready to move. “Can’t promise I’ll be much help, but we’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

“So how’ve you been?” Mike asks, deliberately playful as he’s firing at the Koenigs, who run past the wall he and Kara have staked out.

“Okay,” Kara replies, shrugging. “I mean, I’ve been breathing a lot easier since the asshole went to prison. Less looking over my shoulder, less paranoia. It’s been nice.”

He chuckles, a little awkwardly. “I hadn’t heard he was actually in jail. Good riddance. I’m glad for you.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Yeah, it got official a few weeks ago? Bucky testified, he and Steve were at the trial, so it’s not just hearsay.” She sighs. “I’m glad I could stay out of that, though. Even the thought of him looking at me again kind of makes me sick.”

Mike nods. “Understandable. I hope he rots in there.”

“God, me too.” Kara raises her gun into place as someone (she doesn’t look up to see who because it’d waste time) stalks by muttering “where are you, Rogers” and she shoots that someone in the leg.

The someone yelps “ _Fuck!_ ” and Mike says, grinning, “Did you mean to shoot Tony in the leg?”

“Oh, was that Tony?” Kara laughs. “Good job, me, I guess.”

“Aim a little higher next time,” jokes Mike.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she agrees. “How’s Ace doing?”

“He’s good. He’s finishing up school pretty soon, which he’s excited about. He’s writing his own version of _Batman v Superman,_ which,” Mike pauses to laugh, “he thought was ‘pretty cool but could’ve been better.’”

“Oh my god,” she giggles, “better like, how?”

“Oh, he’s got a list. Not enough Aquaman. Batman doesn’t use guns. Superman didn’t save enough people. Not enough Wonder Woman. If you ask me, Jesse Eisenberg was a disgrace as Lex Luthor, but he didn’t seem to care as much about that.” Mike laughs. “The fight scenes were pretty good, though.”

“That’s funny,” she says. “Not bad points. I admit I haven’t bothered to see it, but from what I’ve heard…”

Mike pauses to shoot at a few people, hitting them in the arms and backs, before replying, “If you don’t know anything about DC, it’s okay, I guess. If you do, it’s kind of sad, honestly.”

“It seemed just really… I don’t know,” Kara muses, “dark and angry.”

He shrugs. “A lot of it was. I don’t think that studio really knows what it’s doing, which is a shame.”

“Yeah.” She fires a couple of shots. “I bet Ace’s version will be better.”

“We’ll see,” he says with a fond smile.

 

* * *

 

“Well, look at you,” Lorelei hums, coming up behind Raina. “Good little soldier?”

Raina scoffs. “Good little person standing in one place not giving a fuck, maybe,” she says. “How are things on Team Entitlement Issues?”

“Tedious,” Lorelei sighs. “This whole thing is tedious. Also stupidly phallic.”

“Yeah, well.” Raina tilts her head, surveying Lorelei; she’s been hit a couple of times, but nowhere meaningful. The most notable thing about her is that her usually perfect hair has splatters of fluorescent green paint in it, which is charming. “You planning on using your wiles to take me out?”

Lorelei laughs, lifting her gun (smaller than most of the paintball guns by far) and aiming it at Raina’s chest. “What say we take each other out?” she suggests. “To hell with this dick-measuring contest.”

Raina positions her gun. “Count of three?”

They count off in unison, then once they’re both shot they flop onto the ground, Raina landing with her head in Lorelei’s lap. “You wanna get out of here?” Lorelei asks.

“Nah,” Raina says. “I don’t care, but also, I wanna see what’s going to happen. I have a feeling and I’m curious if it’s gonna be right.”

“Fair enough,” Lorelei giggles. “Sit up and we can make out?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Raina hums, not only sitting up but straddling Lorelei’s lap in one fluid movement.

 

* * *

 

“Stay behind me,” Clint says as he and Laura sneak along.

“I’ll really be fine,” Laura replies, smirking.

“I know, but…” Clint flails ineffectually. “You’re not...um. I wanna protect you?” He’s not sure this doesn’t come across as weird and patronizing.

“I’m not… what?” she asks. “I’m not someone who knows how to use guns, that’s true.”

He gulps. “Y’know, I’m gonna stop talking right now before I dig myself in deeper.”

She lightly hits his arm - really, more like tapping. “You’re fine,” she says. “I don’t need protecting, but I appreciate your instinct.”

“Good. Um. I guess you don’t have to actually stay behind me.”

They run into Natasha a couple minutes later, who has her gun cocked, but doesn’t fire just yet. “We’re still friends if I shoot you in the shoulder, right?” she asks with a shit-eating grin.

Clint shrugs, not putting his gun down either. “Depends on how hard you hit me,” he says good-naturedly.

Laura looks between them, not entirely sure what to make of this. “So, uh.”

“I’m not gonna shoot _you_ ,” says Natasha, “Promise. Just him, ‘cause it’s funny.” True to her word, she shoots him once in the shoulder, then lowers the gun.

Clint winces a little, but it could’ve been worse. He knows Natasha’s accuracy rate. “I’d say good luck but I don’t actually think any of us want your side to win, so.”

She snorts. “Pretty much. Hey, Laura, you wanna shoot me in the thigh or something?”

“Only if I can shout something melodramatic while doing it,” Laura says.

“She really is your soulmate,” Natasha snarks to Clint. “Go ahead, sure.”

Laura grins. “This is for what you did to my man, foxheart,” she shouts, shooting Natasha exactly where she suggested.

Natasha can’t help but laugh. “Creative insult.”

“It’s really not worth explaining,” Laura says cheerfully, which they all understand.

 

* * *

 

Jane glances around to make sure nobody is looking, and once the coast is clear she rather showily stumbles onto the ground, screaming, “Ow, my ankle.”

Within moments, Helen (who’s been prowling the field looking for injured parties to bring back to the nurse’s station) is at her side. “Oh, dear,” she says, reaching to help Jane up and supporting her on the walk over.

“I’m fine,” Jane mouths, rolling her eyes.

Helen tilts her head.

“Not hurt,” Jane mouths. “Just done.”

That, Helen can understand, and as she helps Jane onto the picnic table bench in front of Claire, she says, “Be sure to ice that.”

“I will,” Jane says, trying not to laugh. “If you see my boyfriend, tell him not to worry?”

“I promise,” Helen nods solemnly.

Not five minutes later, Thor storms over in a panic. “Jane, are you badly injured?” he asks. “I can take you home immediately if you require it!”

Jane shakes her head. “I’m really fine,” she says, “you keep playing.” Rolling her eyes, she silently adds, “I’m not really hurt.”

“Oh.” Thor relaxes. “Very well then, love. I shall see you later?” He gently take her hand to kiss it.

“I’ll be here,” she agrees. “Go have fun.”

Claire smirks. “We’ll talk science and make fun of boys. It’ll be like a sleepover, only with more paint flying around.”

Thor laughs. “Indeed. Farewell, then.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Christine calls, grinning, “fancy running into you here.”

Trish waves. “I’m surprised you came, actually.”

Christine shrugs. “I was hoping to get on Steve’s team so I’d have an excuse to shoot Tony, but I got him in the arm once anyway. Doesn’t exactly seem like your scene either.”

“Jess and Luke are into it,” Trish says by way of explanation. “I’m glad they’re actually enjoying themselves at a social event.”

“Yeah, do you know what the actual point of this is? Tony invited me on Facebook and I haven’t been paintballing since high school so I thought it’d be fun, but he kept alluding to some prize he gets if he wins and I have no idea what it is.”

“Rumor has it, he gets to join in Steve and his bunch’s group sex,” Trish says, rolling her eyes.

Christine blinks. “The _fuck_?”

“Some stupid bet they made,” Trish explains. “I guess Tony is convinced they’re all having fivesomes constantly, which tells me that he really doesn’t know how poly relationships work.”

“Jesus.” Rolling her eyes, Christine adds, “I guess this’ll make good fodder for the blog this week. I’ll do an article on violence and the male ego.”

“Ooh,” Trish hums. “Want any help? We could get soundbytes.”

“Sure. We could do a joint thing with your podcast if you want?”

“Sounds good,” Trish says. “My phone will take decent recordings in the meantime.”

Christine grins. “Cool. Shall we find a place to hash it all out?”

“I saw an abandoned car in the middle of the course,” Trish suggests.

“Perfect! Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky feels the impact of the bullets and drops to the ground before he even glances at his attacker. Of course it’s that guy again. “Steve!” he hisses. “Take cover!”

Steve ducks down. “Your mystery assailant?”

“Guess so.” Bucky takes a minute before poking his head from behind the barrel they’re crouched behind. A rain of paint answers his question and he barely manages to avoid it. “Maybe if you sneak around you can get behind and surprise him?”

“Maybe,” Steve says thoughtfully. He grabs his trash can lid and sneaks out from their hiding place, then takes a wide loop and doubles back, firing at the stranger.

That seems to encourage him to move on, but Bucky gives it a few seconds before he dares peek out. “Thanks,” he says with a grin. “You’re pretty good at that. Think I’ll keep you another week.”

“What happened to always?” Steve asks, smirking.

“Depends on how this game shakes out,” teases Bucky, but he’s grinning. “C’mere.”

Steve does, and Bucky pulls him in for a quick kiss. “Let’s go kick ass,” he says.

 

* * *

 

Melinda’s pretty bored, having picked one area to stake out since she doesn’t feel like putting in the effort to run around. Not that she’d be much livelier on Steve’s team, but she especially doesn’t want to help Stark if she can help it. She glances around, hoping for something interesting.

Then something hits her in her shoulder blade and she grunts, more from surprise than pain. She spins around, gun drawn, to see Sif grinning from a few yards away. “Wasn’t sure if that would work,” she calls, looking pleased with herself.

Melinda smirks. “Nice one.” Then, before Sif can react, she shoots her in the shoulder too. “Surprise.” Then she takes off, knowing Sif will chase her.

“Dammit, Mel!” But Sif’s grinning, Melinda can hear it in her voice. Melinda’s faster than Sif, they both know it, but she deliberately goes slowly enough that Sif can catch her and playfully tackle her to the ground.

Melinda squirms but doesn’t really try to get up, and Sif takes the opportunity to lean down and whisper, “I like you with a gun.”

“I think you’ll like me more with something else,” hums Melinda.

“Are you just saying that so I’ll let you up?”

“Maybe. You won’t know unless you do.”

 

* * *

 

Bereet is reminding herself she should really try harder to make friends at the mall, because she’s sort of lost in a sea of nonsense. Everyone is running around and she recognizes almost nobody, which means she’s finding it pretty difficult to keep track of who she’s supposed to be shooting or looking out for.

“Hey!” says a familiar voice, and Peter Quill walks up. “How’re you doin’?”

“Oh,” she exclaims. “Hey. I’m… okay. A little overwhelmed. At least everyone in video games has uniforms so you know who to shoot.”

He laughs. “Can’t argue with that. Hey, I know we’re on opposite sides and whatever, but you wanna call a temporary truce for a bit? I could use a partner.”

She tilts her head. “A partner for…?”

“Y’know, the game.” Quill shrugs. “Nothing weird, just hanging out, having each others’ backs for a bit.”

“That’d be okay,” Bereet decides. “I’m honestly not really sure what I’m doing here.”

“Cool!” Quill offers his arm with a playful grin. “Shall we, m’lady?”

“I’m no lady,” she replies cheerfully, but she takes his arm.

He hoists his gun and says, “Let’s go kick some ass!”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t think we’re doing that badly for ourselves,” Tony says, pausing for a moment to survey the course.

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “You would say that while you’re covered in paint. And look at Happy, he’s one shot away from being out.”

“I’m fine,” says Happy, although the fact that his entire vest is covered in paint speaks to the contrary.

“Whatever. I’m still fine.” Tony looks around. “I think next we should-”

Before he can finish the sentence, there’s a telltale _pop_ noise and Happy jumps in front of him so quickly he’s not even sure what happened. “Damn,” mutters Rhodey, and Tony jerks his head over to see Kara aiming her gun at him. Happy is sprawled on the ground, grunting for a minute before easing himself to his feet. “Ah, shit,” he says. “I’m out.”

This had not been Kara’s intention, but - all’s fair in love and paintball, or something. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just run, but she doesn’t, giving a playful salute as Happy ambles away.

“Shoot her!” Tony yelps to Rhodey, from where he’s dropped to the ground in self-defense. “Rhode, shoot her!”

Rhodey glances at Tony, then at Kara, then back at Tony. He opens his mouth to say...he’s not sure what, but then there’s a hail of bullets from another angle and he drops down next to Tony.

Who is glaring petulantly. “Why didn’t you shoot her?”

Rhodey sighs. “I dunno, man, I…”

“Can you control your boner for five minutes and take out a member of the opposing team when you have a clear shot?”

Rhodey laughs. “Man, that’s rich. Why exactly are we in this game again, remind me?”

Tony doesn’t say anything, just picks himself up off the ground and storms off. Rolling his eyes, Rhodey gets up and glances around, noticing that Kara’s still watching him.

 

* * *

 

Foggy’s wandering around without much purpose, jumping every time he hears someone shoot nearby him, and dodging bullets when he can (he mostly can’t, and he looks not unlike a walking Jackson Pollock), when he spots something on the ground a ways ahead of him. A body-shaped something.

He glances around, then inches forward carefully. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to be moving, but that doesn’t mean they won’t pop up and shoot him. Once he’s close enough to touch it, he hears snoring.

It doesn’t really seem possible that someone could fall asleep on this paintball course, but hey, Matt sleeps in all sorts of weird places too. He nudges the guy’s leg with his toe, to make sure he’s really not going to get up, before shrugging and lifting his gun.

Then there’s a loud whoop and he feels paint smack him dead center in the chest. He staggers back and it takes him a minute to absorb that it’s Billy Koenig in front of him, doing some kind of victory dance. “It worked!” he’s cheering. “In your _face!_ ”

The body, which turns out to be Eric Koenig, gets up to high-five his brother. “Told you it would work!”

Foggy laughs. “Is this the first time you’ve done that today?”

“Today, yeah,” shrugs Eric. “Ever? Hardly.”

 

* * *

 

Sam’s having a great time, mostly only shooting people he knows agrees with Tony and pretending to be a secret agent, when there’s some kind of commotion by the entrance and yelling. He drops behind a little wall to figure out what’s going on.

It takes him a minute, because things get a little crazy, but he hears someone yelling “Rogers! Come out and face me!” and Sam has a feeling that’s not someone Tony brought in at the last minute.

Sure enough, it’s Rumlow and a group of his Hydra buddies, shooting paintballs like madmen. “Surprise, bitch!” one of them calls, shooting Volstagg (who’s been wandering around bored anyway, but who’s looking decidedly nervous about the arrival of Nazis).

Sam narrows his eyes and looks around for Sharon or either of his boys. Finally he spots her when she jumps out from behind a barrel to pistol-whip a Hydra guy in the face, then run away. He creeps in the direction she’s gone, waving once he’s gotten her attention. “Hey,” he says quietly, once they’re both safe behind an obstacle.

“Hey,” she replies. “Do you know what the fuck is going on?”

“No, I’m guessing you don’t either. These guys are Hydra, right?”

“If their stupid jackets are any indication, yeah,” Sharon mutters. “And not even Tony would sink that low.”

“Great. You seen Steve and Buck lately?”

She shakes her head. “The callout didn’t summon them, so I’d bet they’re on the other end of the course.”

“Guess we’ll have to handle it by ourselves.” Sam grins. “You up for it?”

“Hell, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t care, Phil, we’re going _home_ ,” Rosalind shouts.

Coulson, looking cowed, shuffles his feet. “Ma’am…”

“This is getting really old and I don’t give a damn about some dick-measuring contest,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Come on.”

Coulson obediently raises his gun to shoot her, when a Nazi pops out and fires a round into her back.

“Are you kidding me?” she growls, turning to shoot. Then she asks, “Who the hell was that?”

Shrugging, Coulson replies, “I don’t know, ma’am. Shall I shoot you now?”

“Please,” Rosalind says. “Then you’re washing this paint out of my hair.”

Coulson grins and nods before shooting her in the chest. “Of course, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

_> >Hey Skye, just as a heads up, there’s a bunch of Hydra guys fucking up the course._

_> >Shit. Thanks, P. _

_> >Anytime._

Peter slips his phone back into his pocket. “Okay, it’s done.”

“Good.” Gwen checks the bullets in her gun. “You wanna shoot our way out with the last few bullets and then run?”

Grinning, Peter nods. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a shame paintball requires protective covering, because it’s a nice enough day that otherwise Vanessa could be tanning. Nonetheless, she’s stretched out on top of a glorified refrigerator box, ambivalently observing the game.

Malcolm runs by, looking startled, and stops long enough to say, “Uh, you know the Nazi gang invaded, right?”

“Is that what the shouting was about?” she drawls.

He nods. “Most people are fighting back or running away. Me, I didn’t even wanna be here anyway. Good luck, if you’re staying.” He jogs off with a wave.

“Good luck getting out,” she calls after him. It’s more effort than she would expend on an acquaintance most days, but it’s an extreme situation.

Not long after that, one of the aforementioned Nazis swaggers over, gun cocked. “Hey there,” he calls. “Classy lady like you, shouldn’t be hanging around a place like this.”

Vanessa lifts her gun and gets him right in the heart without missing a beat. “ _Samti zayin alekha_ , asshole.”

He looks down at his chest, then laughs. “That all you got, sweetheart?”

She rolls her eyes and shoots him again, lowering her arm so she’s aiming at his dick. Then she shoots him in the legs and hopefully the feet, wanting to give him the message to move on in a serious way.

He’s backing away, arms up in surrender. “Hey, hey now, doesn’t have to be like this…”

“Yes it does,” she sighs, returning to shoot him in the chest and arms some more.

He yelps and runs away, screaming names at her as he does.

 

* * *

 

“What are they doing here?” yelps Fitz, pressing against Trip’s back as Trip reloads his gun. He gave up trying to pretend he gave a shit about being on Tony’s team after the Nazis showed up.

“Dunno,” says Trip, “but I’m not planning on letting them stay.” He stands up to shoot a few rounds, then ducks back down again. “Don’t worry,” he adds with a grin, “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” says Fitz, “it’s just...quite frightening.”

“Hey, c’mon.” Trip grabs Fitz’s hand and squeezes it. “Let’s make a break for it, okay? Just stay behind me.”

“Okay.” Fitz swallows and stands up with Trip, running alongside him and only screaming a couple of times until they get to another hiding spot.

Trip smiles fondly at him once they’re there. “Still doing okay?”

“I guess,” says Fitz, pausing to rest his head on Trip’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” says Trip, running a hand through his hair.

 

* * *

 

This has been a fun day for Hope (big Hope, as she’s apparently being called now). Playful competition is always satisfying, and recreational semi-violence? It suits her. She’s having kind of an awesome time until the Nazis show up, in fact, so she’s extra pissed once they’re on the course.

She’s a pretty decent shot, so she’s been trying to take them out long-range (avoiding any face-to-face interactions with the fuckers is a good idea, in her opinion), so she’s not thinking about the fact that it looks like she’s going after what’s-her-name from the video game store as she takes aim.

“Noooooooooooo,” yells the idiot from the skate shop across the street, shoving the girl out of the way like he’s in a dramatic action movie or some shit.

“Fucking moron,” Hope snarks. “I guess you didn’t hear we got party-crashed.”

The Nazi initially in question is drawing closer and starting to shoot (not very well, but) so what’s-her-name starts shooting back (more accurately) with a growl, nudging the guy out of the way.

“Shit,” Hope says, delighted to join in until the Nazi goes down.

The skater idiot’s eyes are about to bug out of his head. “ _Damn_ ,” he says, whistling low. “Hey, uh, not to be weird, but would you wanna go to prom with me?”

“Prom?” what’s-her-name asks.

“Yeah, I’m organizing a prom for all of us at the mall. Y’know, ‘cause I can’t be the only one who didn’t go to my prom, and I think it’d be pretty cool. Especially since we can drink legally and don’t have to worry about somebody calling the cops.” He flashes her a cheesy grin. “So how ‘bout it?”

“Eh,” she replies cheerfully, “why not?”

Hope rolls her eyes and starts for the nurse’s station in search of an ice pack (this is fun, but between the warm weather, the safety apparel, and the getting hit with paint, she’s both sticky and sore). To Jane, Linnea, and Claire, she says, “I just don’t know how you guys sleep with men.”

And then she notices a new person, a pretty dirty-blond woman old enough not to be a child and definitely not dressed for this event. Her eyebrow goes up. “I know, right,” the woman says, “Heteros confuse the fuck out of me.”

“I’m Hope,” says Hope, extending a paint-covered hand.

“Pam,” returns the woman, shaking.

“You’re not a mall person,” Hope murmurs.

“I work at the university,” she says. “Just office stuff. Nothing fancy. But I heard these guys talking about some allegedly epic showdown and decided to come see what the fuss was about.”

“I for one am very glad you did,” Hope smirks.

 

* * *

 

“At least it finally got interesting,” Nebula yells over the sound of their guns firing.

“I don’t think marauding Nazis are exactly the good kind of interesting,” Gamora retorts.

Nebula laughs. “ _You_ don’t.” She nails one guy in the dick and grins. “Didn’t ask you.”

Gamora rolls her eyes. “You’d think this was fun if we were shooting them for real.”

“Duh.” Nebula fires off another round at a nearby Nazi, who dives out of the way. “That’d be great.”

“Yes, except the assault charges,” Gamora replies.

“It’s Hydra though. Who really gives a fuck?”

“Other assholes,” Gamora says almost patiently. “Who could well orchestrate some bullshit.”

Nebula grunts. “Whatever. Do you know where Carina is?”

Before Gamora can answer, they’re interrupted with a shrill scream and what sounds like one of the makeshift towers falling, possibly _on_ someone. “Get the fuck away from me!” that same voice shouts.

“Oh, there she is.” Nebula smirks. “That’s my girl.”

“Should someone check on her?” Gamora asks, actually concerned.

“Probably.” Nebula ambles off to do that.

 

* * *

 

“Nicholas,” says Irani, from the fence they’ve picked to lounge against, since no one seems to be bothering them. “Don’t you think maybe we should call the police? The decent police?”

Fury shrugs. “Our people seem to have it under control.”

And they do, considering everyone who’s left seems to be either hiding and waiting it out or aggressively fighting back against the Hydra intruders. Irani sighs. “Yes, I know, but the fact that they barged in here? I have to think that has something to do with what happened with Kara.”

“They’ll never believe it,” says Fury. “You know that as well as I do.”

Irani shakes her head. “I do know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

A Nazi appears, looking menacing, and Irani showers him with paint until he turns tail and runs. Then she rolls her eyes. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

 

* * *

 

“So what’s the plan?” Skye asks, from where they’ve paused behind a stack of tires.

“Get back to Jemma and take as many of these apparently infinite fuckers down as we go?” Bobbi suggests, retying her hair tie vehemently.

Skye grins. “Sounds good. How’s the saber?”

“Our last trip to the paint bucket was appropriately timed,” Bobbi declares. “And hell, if it runs out of paint I can still beat the shit out of them with it.”

“Good point. You ready?”

“Always,” Bobbi says. “You?”

Rolling her shoulders, Skye nods. “Let’s go!”

Bobbi charges forward, saber in one hand and gun in the other, and she calls, “Clear my direction, at least for now.”

Skye’s about to, but then she hears a shot behind her and whirls around to see a Hydra guy coming up. She throws herself at the pile of tires, sending them crashing down on him. She whoops enthusiastically. “Take that, fuckhead!”

“C’mon,” Bobbi shouts, but she’s grinning (Skye’s enthusiasm is cute).

Skye goes to her side, practically skipping, and they’re off side-by-side, guns drawn.

It’s maybe a minute before they almost run directly into Audrey, who screams, then immediately exclaims, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was you, I’ve just been trying to hide until this all stops. I wanna kick their asses for what they did to Kara and everyone, but…” She shrugs helplessly. She’s not a fighter.

Bobbi nods. “Don’t worry about it,” she says quietly. “Come with us, we’re gonna find Jemma and get out of here.” She smirks. “I’ll protect you.”

Audrey laughs nervously. “Thanks,” she says, and they take off running again.

They don’t get too much farther along before a Nazi blocks their way. “Hey, I know you,” he sneers. “You’re the bitch who fought Ward with sticks. Honestly, I never liked him much, he was kinda a pussy. I bet I can take you.”

Bobbi growls. “Get Audrey out of the way,” she mutters to Skye, brandishing her saber and thwacking him across the chest, leaving a trail of paint.

Skye gently herds Audrey behind her and brandishes her gun, ready to leap into the fight if Bobbi needs it. The guy curses and staggers back before snarling, “Fucking cunt!” and fires at her.

“Oh, go die alone,” Bobbi shouts, slashing him across the face with her lightsaber and leaving a Kylo Ren paint scar in its wake.

Skye grabs Audrey’s hand and pulls her forward while the guy is screaming obscenities, Bobbi on their heels. Once they’re far enough away, Skye grins back at Bobbi. “You’re such a badass.”

“I do what I can,” Bobbi says with a falsely modest shrug.

“Wait, you fought Kara’s ex with sticks?” Audrey says. “I think I’m missing something.”

“Not twigs, batons,” Bobbi explains. “I’ll show you later if you’re curious.”

Their next encounter is with Hunter and another Nazi, who are scrapping (Lance has a black eye). “Some help would not go amiss, Bob!” he yelps when he spots them.

“Oh, give me a break,” Bobbi mutters, immediately jumping into the fray and starting to batter the Nazi wherever Hunter can’t or isn’t.

“Need help?” Skye calls.

“Nah, we’re good now!” says Hunter quickly.

Audrey surreptitiously backs toward the nearest safe, flat space.

The Hydra guy lands one punch on Bobbi’s shoulder and laughs, “Couldn’t even take me by yourself, you needed your bitch to do it, huh?”

Hunter responds with a punch in the nose. “Oh, I can take you, I just thought she’d go easier on you.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes. “I don’t go easy,” she points out, shooting the Nazi in the back.

Finally the Nazi stumbles away and Hunter shrugs. “I mean, I was just playing him. I knew you’d beat the shit out of him.”

“Whatever,” she mutters. “Look, Skye and I still have a rescue to mount, could I trust you to get Audrey to the parking lot?” To Audrey, she says, “Is that okay?” Audrey nods.

Hunter sighs, but nods. “Alright. C’mon, luv.” He offers Audrey his hand.

“Call me when you’re home,” Audrey says to Bobbi, concern evident in her voice, as they leave.

“Of course,” Bobbi says easily, nodding. She turns to Skye with a sigh. “Almost there.”

Skye nods. “We got this.”

They’re getting close when they hear a voice that’s probably Jemma let out an agonized scream and Bobbi picks up the pace in case they’re needed. Jemma seems to be doing all right for herself, though, as there’s a Hydra member nearby clutching his paint-splattered gut.

“Honey?” Skye calls gently. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Jemma admits.

Bobbi hits the guy in the side of the head, hopefully knocking him out for long enough for them to get out. “Did anybody fuck with you?”

“That one tried,” Jemma mutters. “I got him away as fast as I could, but…” She grimaces. “Are we staying and fighting or are we getting out?”

Skye shrugs. “Do you wanna stay? We don’t have to.”

“As much as I’d like to avoid the Nazis, I feel like we should probably stay,” Jemma sighs.

“I’m betting Claire and the others at the nurse’s station haven’t left yet,” Bobbi says, “we could go protect them?”

Jemma laughs weakly. “Claire’s pretty tough,” she says, “but I’m sure they’d appreciate the help.”

“Okay,” says Skye reaching to take her hand. “Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

“Fuck,” mutters Clint. He’s got two Hydra guys on his heels and they’ve run him down a mini corridor made by two shipping containers. “Well, it’s been a good run,” he sighs, turning to face them. Might as well go down like Troy Barnes.

But right after they fire a blur leaps in front of him, so fast he can barely absorb it. Someone yells and there’s a lot of noise and then the Nazis...leave?

He blinks. Pietro’s sprawled in front of him, his entire front covered in paint. “Hey,” the kid says with a grin. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

“Uh, no, as a matter of fact.” Clint shakes his head. “Thanks, I guess. Uh, you’re out? Sorry.”

Pietro shrugs. “I had my fun. I’ll go find my sister and we’ll go home.”

“Yeah, I gotta find my...find Laura too.” Clint offers a hand, and Pietro takes it and staggers up. “Good luck, kid.”

“You too,” Pietro says with a little salute.

 

* * *

 

Wanda’s looking for Pietro, and taking the opportunity to shoot some Nazis at a distance when she can, when she hears a faint whimper from the top of a shipping container.

“Hello?” she calls quietly. “Is someone up there?”

Nervously, “little” Hope pokes her head over the side. “Oh,” she says, sounding relieved, “I was worried it was… someone else.”

“Just me, for whatever that’s worth.” Wanda grins, a bit shy. “Are you alright?”

Hope nods. “Just freaked out,” she says. “I was already regretting even coming before…”

“Yes,” says Wanda. “I wouldn’t have come if it had been someone besides Steve. Do you want some help?”

“Please?” Hope asks sheepishly. She swings her legs around so they’re dangling over the side of the container. “I guess, uh… spot me?”

Wanda backs away a bit, watching her. “You’re okay.”

Carefully, Hope pushes herself off the container and tries to land gracefully and safely at the same time. Harder than it sounds, but she’s got some amount of practice. “There aren’t any guys around here?” she asks.

“No, I haven’t seen any.” Wanda hesitates, then moves her hand as if to offer it, then pulls it back. “You can, um. You can come with me if you want. I’m looking for my brother. We’ll probably leave soon.”

Hope nods, trying for a smile. “If I’m not gonna be a pain in the ass tagging along,” she says. “I just wanna get out of here.”

“You won’t be,” says Wanda with a reassuring smile. “C’mon. I can take care of anyone we run into, I think.”

They start to sweep the edges of the course, Hope mostly staying behind Wanda, when someone starts shooting behind them. Wanda curses and murmurs, “Hope, go ahead of me” before she turns around and fires back.

She does her best to hold the Nazi off, and they manage to lose him when Hope fires into a wall and shrieks to cause a commotion and throw the Nazi off their trail. “Huh, I’m glad that worked,” Hope giggles nervously.

“I like your laugh,” Wanda says. “It’s cute.” Then she makes a face. “If that was inappropriate, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not,” Hope says, instinctively reaching for Wanda’s hand. “Uh, can I…”

“Y-yes, yes,” replies Wanda, eyes widening, but she grabs Hope’s hand and squeezes it in what she hopes is a reassuring way. “Come on, we’re nearly there.”

Hope squeezes back, then she takes off running toward the nurse’s station. She’s not going her fastest, of course, but she’s still pretty determined. Wanda jogs after her, not keeping up at all, but smiling all the same. She’s never seen Hope run before, and the other girl looks more comfortable than Wanda’s ever seen her. Wanda’s chest feels a little fluttery, which she decides she’s going to think more about later.

“Hey,” Jane calls as they approach. “You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Hope says, smiling at Wanda. “Yeah, we are.”

Wanda smiles back at her, still feeling shy, before turning to Jane. “Have you seen Pietro? He…”

“Wanda, there you are!” says Pietro, bounding over from where he’s doing jumping jacks. “Are you still in the game?” He grins, gesturing to his vest. “I’m not, so I came here to wait for you.”

“Yes, I am, I was looking for you. There’s...a Hydra member was after us for a bit, we lost him, but I think he might come back.”

“You want backup?” Bobbi asks, coming over twirling her saber idly.

“Maybe,” says Wanda, frowning. “Where are you getting the paint for that?”

Bobbi grins. “I brought buckets,” she says. “It’s not the most efficient, but it works.”

Wanda thinks for a minute. “Hope, will you be okay leaving with my brother and waiting for me outside while I take care of something?”

Hope frowns a bit, but she nods. “Be careful, okay?” she murmurs.

“I will,” says Wanda. “Bobbi, can I see your bucket, please? I have an idea.”

Bobbi nods and passes the thing, which is not exactly light, over. “All yours,” she says.

Not five minutes later, a Nazi (maybe the same one from earlier, maybe not) comes over, grinning widely when he sees Wanda. “Hey there, little girl,” he says. “How about we do this the easy way?”

“No thanks,” says Wanda, and somehow manages to pick up the bucket (which isn’t small) and throw it at him, covering him in paint and making him shriek as he flees.

“Holy shit,” Bobbi says. “You’re brilliant.”

Wanda laughs, breathing hard. “Thank you. I thought that might work.”

“He’ll have a hard time getting home, dripping paint,” Jemma snarks.

“I hope he’s washing it out for days,” agrees Skye. “Nice one. You need anything before you head out?”

Shaking her head, Wanda grins. “No, I think I’m alright. Good luck, you three.”

 

* * *

 

“You doing okay?” Rhodey asks.

“Yeah,” Karen says. “Seen Kara lately?”

Rhodey shakes his head. “I was looking after Tony, and then I was, y’know, trying not to get my ass kicked too bad. You?”

“Not in a while,” Karen sighs. “I’ve been trying to look for her, but it’s been hard.”

“Yeah. And I try not to worry about her too much, she can look after herself, y’know.”

“She can,” Karen agrees. “But when, y’know. _They’re_ involved.”

Rhodey nods. “Maybe we’d better go looking? Would she have just peaced out once they showed up?”

“I hope so, but then again, she might not have been able to.” Karen sighs. “Let’s try this direction.”

There’s enough ambient noise from the scuffles that they don’t notice it at first, but then Rhodey hears loud yelling, a man’s voice, who mostly seems to be swearing and screaming sexist insults. He heads in that direction, calling “That might be something.”

“Shit, yeah,” Karen mutters, following after.

It’s certainly something, and Kara’s certainly there, but the other two are pleased to see that she’s got the Nazi pinned on the ground and she’s clearly getting some good punches in.

Then the Nazi starts laughing, almost manically, and growls, “If you were half this wild in the sack I can see why Ward wanted to hold onto you so bad!”

Kara shrieks, one hand going to the man’s throat, and Karen glances worriedly at Rhodey. “Kara?” she says, probably too quiet.

Kara doesn’t seem to notice.

“Kara!” calls Rhodey, trying to keep his voice light. “Hey, Kara!”

Kara glances up, seeming to snap out of… something. She knocks the Nazi out almost casually and climbs up. “Guess Isabelle’s self-defense lessons are paying off,” she says with a little smile. “You guys okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Rhodey. “We just wanted to make sure you were. ‘Cause, y’know.” He gestures vaguely at the Nazi’s body.

“Yeah,” Kara says. “I mean. I was pretty much keeping to myself headed for the exit until he showed up.” She rolls her eyes. “I’d met him a couple times, back… and it got personal, I guess is the best way to put it.”

Rhodey coughs. “Yeah, uh, I could tell. Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah,” Kara repeats. “Wanna get out of here?”

“I should get the boys first,” Karen says. “Matt should still be up front, but I’m not sure where Foggy is.”

“I’ll walk you to the exit,” Rhodey says. “But I gotta stay till the end, make sure Tony gets out in one piece.” He sighs and then grins ruefully.

Kara nods in understanding. “Thanks, though,” she says. “You’re sweet to have come looking.”

They make their way out, walking past Drax (who is yelling excitedly and shooting mostly at Nazis but also in every direction), Joey (who has set up on top of one of the shipping containers and is carefully sniping every Hydra member who walks by, then rolling out of the way if they shoot at him), and Hogun and Akela (who seem to have teamed up and are side by side shooting at every Nazi within range). “Seems like these guys have the situation pretty well under control,” says Rhodey.

“I’m not surprised,” Kara says fondly.

When they get up front, Karen immediately runs up to where Matt is guarding the (long-empty) jail. “D’you know where Foggy is?” she asks.

“No, it’s kinda hard to hear over all the screaming and gunfire,” replies Matt sardonically.

Hannah, who got to be the referee and has had no refereeing to do since the Nazis showed up, says, “I saw him leave a while ago. You could text him?”

“He’s probably getting a smoothie or something,” Karen says with a fond roll of her eyes. “Dork.”

“Guess we’d better go see,” says Matt. “Kara, you’re welcome to join us, of course.”

“Thanks,” Kara says with a giggle. “Rhodey, text me when you’re done? I wanna make sure you get out okay.”

Rhodey nods. “Will do. Later, Kara.” He smiles and touches her arm gently.

 

* * *

 

There’s only so much making out anyone can do in full paintball gear, but Lorelei and Raina have been exploring that limit for at least the last hour. Possibly more. Time is irrelevant right now.

They’re on the ground, Lorelei on top and coming very close to trying to get Raina off despite the public venue, when Raina nudges Lorelei to look behind her. Some little blond twerp in a Hydra jacket is staring at them.

He swallows, his arm (and his gun with it) dropping to his side. “Um,” he squeaks.

Lorelei turns to face him, grinning. “Like what you see?” she asks in a low, seductive murmur.

“Y-y-yes?”

“Bet it’s a lot more fun than you thought you’d be having today,” she continues, coming to drape her arms around his shoulders and start easing him around, toward a wall.

“Uh, uh, yeah, I mean, they d-didn’t really tell me what, what was going on, they, they just handed me a gun…”

“You must be a good shot, then,” she says. “Good with weapons?” She rubs her hand down his front.

“I-I g-guess so, I haven’t really thought about it-”

“You haven’t really thought about much, have you?” Raina mutters, shooting the kid in the chest once Lorelei has darted away suddenly. “ _Basic_.”

 

* * *

 

“Nice to have you back on the right side,” Bucky teases Natasha.

“Shut up.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Not my fault the asshole picked me, okay?”

Sam puts a finger to his lips. “They’re right up there, you guys, _quiet._ ”

They stop talking, but Bucky sticks out his tongue at Natasha.

Sharon announces their presence with a paintball in the nearest one’s back, then, muttering, “We couldn’t have just settled this bullshit in peace. No, we had to get a visit from the supremacist bunch.”

“I’m the one Rumlow called out,” Steve says. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” Rumlow snaps, coming out to stand very close to Steve. He’s wearing a stupid helmet. “My fucking problem is that you led the fuzz right to our hideout and got half of my boys arrested!”

“You seem to have made it out all right,” Steve rolls his eyes. “More’s the pity.”

Rumlow glares at him for a second before smacking Steve in the face with his pistol before anyone can react. Sam yells and jumps at Rumlow immediately, meeting him fists-first. The other Hydra members, apparently just waiting for their cue, attack, and Natasha, Bucky and Sharon are ready for them.

“Hey,” says Bucky, almost cheerfully, to the guy he ends up brawling with (in between punches), “could’ve sworn there were more of you dickbags earlier, did we scare you off?”

“Hail Hydra, traitor,” is all his opponent will say, but all he gets is his tooth knocked out for his troubles.

Sam and Rumlow are trading blows, Rumlow taunting him all the while. “Did I strike a nerve, man? You seem pretty upset, I guess I did, huh, faggot?”

“Man, shut the hell _up!_ ” says Sam, giving him an elbow in the nose and managing to grab his arms and twist them around so that Rumlow won’t get away.

Sharon, having already gotten one Nazi to the ground, levels her gun at Rumlow’s temple. “A paintball to the head won’t kill you, but I wouldn’t want to find out how it feels,” she says.

“Go ahead, bitch!” snarls Rumlow, not even trying to squirm away.

“If you insist,” Sharon mutters, pulling the trigger.

Rumlow drops, though his stupid helmet took most of the impact, but the blast got plenty of paint on his face. He’s quiet a moment, then he starts laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks.

Rumlow doesn’t answer, just keeps laughing. Then he stops abruptly, staggers to his feet, and whistles twice, loud and piercing. “We’re done here, boys! Hydra out!” The ones that are scattered on the ground limp after him, out the back exit.

“Well,” Steve says, frowning. “I guess the game is over.”

 

* * *

 

Quill pops out from behind a tire. “Holy shit, am I the last one?” He glances around the course, which is, as far as he can tell, completely deserted. “I am! I’m the last one!” He tosses his gun on the ground and does a victory dance, mostly composed of pelvic thrusting.

Until, of course, a single bullet nails him dead-center in the chest.

“What the _fuck_?”

Thor emerges from behind a wall, grinning. “You were not, in fact, the last, Quill. Apologies for shattering your illusions of victory.”

“Goddammit,” sighs Quill. But then he grins. “That was damn good, Thor.”

“Thank you,” says Thor, returning the grin. “Shall we meet the others? I believe they are by the entrance.”

“Sure, sure.”

They walk over to where a good amount of Steve’s team, Natasha, Tony, Rhodey, Elena, and T’Challa are sitting. “So this means I win, right?” Tony’s saying. “I mean, these three are still alive.”

“I kind of thought we’d stop counting after the showdown with Hydra,” Steve says, “but if you wanna get technical…” He points at himself, Sharon, Bucky, Sam, Thor, Trip, and Akela. “My survivors outnumber yours.”

“Well, _fine,_ if you wanna get all technical about it,” pouts Tony. “I _guess_ you won. I concede that on a technicality.”

“But hey,” chimes in Quill, “I’m gonna have a fancy-ass prom for all of us next weekend! Everybody should come! It’s gonna be great!” He grins. “You don’t have to have a date, but I just thought ‘cause, y’know, maybe a lot of us didn’t get to go to real prom, this might be cool.”

Natasha snickers. “Thanks, Quill.”

Steve nods appreciatively, then holds his hand out to Tony. “Good game,” he says.

Tony wrinkles his nose, then shakes Steve’s hand in the most petulant way possible. “Yeah, yeah, you too,” he mutters. “I would’ve made your orgies ten times better. Twenty times, even.”

“Yeah, right,” Sharon mutters.


	95. remember to let through the music it helps to continue to carry us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill hosts an adult prom, which so far consists of ridiculous dancing and a few surprises (which aren't a surprise to everyone). Part 1 of 2.

“I guess maybe you aren’t supposed to arrive early after all,” says Elena with a laugh. They’re waiting outside the empty half of Knowhere’s building, since Elena had knocked a few minutes before and no one had responded.

T’Challa chuckles. “In Wakanda our dances were for very different occasions. Besides, my father sent me to a prestigious boarding school where academics were most important. I didn’t even know what homecoming was until I was nineteen.”

“Really? We had prom and some other dances. I just went with friends. It seemed like boys were afraid of me.” Elena grins playfully.

“Then they must have been very cowardly,” says T’Challa, returning her grin. “I don’t find you so scary.”

“Neither are you,” says Elena. She steps forward to rap on the door again.

This time, Quill pokes his head out and grins sheepishly. “Oh hey! Uh, sorry, hope you haven’t been standing there long. We’re still setting up and stuff, but if you wanna come in…”

“Yes, thank you,” says T’Challa, opening the door and gesturing for Elena to go in first.

Inside, Drax is hanging swags from the (somewhat obviously) makeshift light fixtures, while Clint and Laura set out food in the skate shop. Joey is setting up the stereo, and when he spots them coming in he waves and calls, “Hey!”

“Hello,” calls Elena with a smile. “We are early.”

“That’s all right!” Drax says cheerfully. “You can sit down. We have tables!”

“Thank you,” says T’Challa, sitting down at once. “As Elena and I were discussing outside, I have never been to a dance quite like this before.”

“Oh, geez, I’m sorry,” says Quill, coming over to their table. “Well, this is gonna be great! Like a real high school dance but with booze, and hopefully weed if Raina shows up. Uh, by the way, who are you?”

“T’Challa, son of T’Chaka, of Vibranium Technologies,” says T’Challa, offering a hand. “I believe we were on Stark’s team together at paintball.”

“Oh yeah! You were awesome. I’m Peter Quill, I’m the one who had this idea.” Peter shakes T’Challa’s hand, a little awkwardly, then turns to Elena. “And _you_ might be…?”

“Elena,” she says, smirking like she already knows exactly what Quill’s game is.

“Elena!” Laura shouts, coming over (and intentionally interrupting Quill’s game). “Hey!”

Elena gives her a genuine smile. “Glad to see you here, Laura.”

“Uh, hi,” says Clint, wandering in after Laura. “Clint. You’re Elena and...T’Challa, you said?”

“Yes.” T’Challa gives him a respectful nod.

Quill pouts only a little before going over to make sure the tip jar has been set up on the refreshments table.

“So are you guys, like…” Clint gestures between them. “ _Together_ -together?”

Elena is so surprised, she laughs. “No, no, we just met at Stark’s paintball game. We both survived to the end, so we were talking and decided to come together since we are both new here.”

“I am here for some courses in the fall, but my father thought it would be a good social experience too,” T’Challa explains. “So I decided to come and meet people.”

“That’s good!” Laura says. “Meeting people. Always a nice thing to do.”

Eric and Billy Koenig enter, both holding iPods, and Billy waves to Quill. “We’re here! Anything you need before we start setting up?”

“Joey, we good?” Quill calls. When Joey nods, he adds, “Nope, go ahead, thanks guys.”

The next to arrive is Bucky, with his entourage behind him. “Party time, guys!” he calls, grinning and reaching up to adjust the ridiculous tiara he’s wearing.

“This isn’t a kegger in a movie from the late 90s,” Sharon smirks. She’s dressed the most normally of her bunch, probably, but even she has ridiculously dramatic eye makeup on.

Sam shrugs, grinning. “Still a party. I’m gonna grab some food.”

“That’s over in the skate shop,” says Quill. “You guys look great!”

“Thank our stylists,” Steve says, gesturing to Bucky and Natasha.

Natasha smirks. “Don’t sell yourselves short.”

“I’m not,” Steve replies, “but you deserve a little credit.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand. “Thanks.”

Sam wanders back over, holding a paper plate with some cheese and crackers on it. “So, are we gonna dance at this dance or what?”

As if on cue, the _Star Wars_ Cantina song starts to play. Sam shrugs. “Close enough.” He holds out his hand to Natasha. She takes it, grinning, and they start doing the silliest version of a couple’s dance possible.

The Helldivers and their plus ones wander in, Nebula saying loudly, “...pretty sure he just did this so he could have an excuse to ask out that girl from GameStop.”

“I think it’s nice,” Carina defends. “I mean, I didn’t get to do this, y’know. Before.”

“Yeah, c’mon, Neb,” teases MJ. “You can stop being nihilistic for one evening, you won’t die.”

“You don’t know that,” grunts Nebula, but she squeezes Carina’s hand.

“I was mostly familiar with the concept of prom thanks to various teen movies,” Laura chimes in. “It seemed silly, but I guess this will be nice.”

Cessily giggles, a little nervously. “I went to Catholic school prom where we weren’t even really allowed to dance. We kind of just stood around on a fancy boat looking at each other.”

Darcy tilts her head. “Why a boat, exactly?”

Cessily shrugs. “We weren’t exactly rich, but that’s the venue the school got. We went around the lake, it was kind of pretty.”

Nebula snorts. “I bet they were thinking if they kept you on the boat, none of you could sneak off to go fuck.”

“Probably,” Cessily agrees. “I mean, maybe some people did anyway, I don’t know. I went with a group of friends because, um.” She glances down at her feet. “Y’know.”

“Well, hey,” says MJ kindly, “you all get normal prom now! Or, sorta normal.” She grabs her date, Bobby’s, hand. “Let’s dance!” They head out to where Sam, Natasha, Clint and Laura are dancing.

“I’ll dibs a table,” Carina offers brightly, because she knows Nebula doesn’t want to dance and she has no intention of making her.

“Thanks,” says Nebula. “Anyone see Gamora? I wanna go rub it in her face that I put on nice clothes and shit.”

Rogue, who was taking selfies with Darcy and Ian outside and just wandered in after her friends, shrugs. “I don’t think she’s here yet.”

“Ugh. I hope she and Mike didn’t take advantage of the fact I’m gone to fuck in the house or something,” groans Nebula.

“You make it sound like a travesty,” Kara says, practically floating into the room on Rhodey’s arm.

Nebula raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, it is,” she says, but it doesn’t sound mean the way it would if most people snarked at her.

Natasha shimmies over from the dance floor to call, overly casual, “Hey, Kara! You look good. So does your...date?”

Rhodey chuckles. “Date, yeah. And doesn’t she?”

Kara is blushing and she knows it, but she doesn’t exactly make things better for herself by hiding her face against Rhodey’s shoulder. “You guys,” she mumbles.

“You do look good though,” Rogue chimes in, grinning. “Where’d you get that dress?”

“Oh, uh,” Kara says with a little shrug, “just David’s Bridal. Bobbi helped. Yeah.”

“You two look very nice together,” says Laura with a small smile. “When did you become a couple?”

Kara’s eyes go wide. “We, uh. We’re…”

“We’re still figuring stuff out,” says Rhodey, glancing at Kara as if to make sure that’s okay to say.

“That’s one way to say it,” Kara agrees. “I mean. A good way, because…”

“Yeah.” Rhodey smiles. “Hey, you wanna go dance, Kara?”

“Yeah, c’mon!” says Natasha, offering her hand. “It’ll be fun.”

Gratefully, Kara follows their lead.

 

* * *

 

“It will be interesting to see if our Sif opted for a suit or a dress,” Fandral says with a lazy grin.

Thor chuckles. “Have you ever seen Sif in a dress? I haven’t, and I’ve known her since we were children.”

“I have,” Linnea offers, smirking.

“You’ve never mentioned that,” says Fandral, and it sounds less casual than he means it to.

“I didn’t realize I was obligated,” Linnea replies, deadpan.

Jane coughs. “Want a secret code for if this gets out of hand?” she says to Hannah, who seems vaguely bewildered.

“I think I’ll be fine,” Hannah squeaks. She doesn’t sound so sure. Hogun smiles reassuringly.

Then the limo pulls up to Sif’s apartment complex, and Thor sends Sif a text to let her know they’re there. Not two minutes later, Sif and Melinda come out together, Sif wearing a tux and Melinda wearing…

“I’ll be damned,” Fandral says. He’s staring, blatantly. Her dress is a bright red number that seems to have been painted on from the hips up.

“They both look very nice,” Thor says.

Sif opens the limo door for Melinda to slide in first, then joins her. “Here we are,” she says with a grin. She’s wearing a suit that she looks right at home in. Then she rolls her eyes. “Fandral, will you quit staring.”

“I’m appreciating!” he protests, and she leans over to smack him on the arm. “Ouch! Point taken,” he says, pouting.

“Hi, you two,” Jane says loudly. “You both look wonderful.”

Melinda smirks. “Thank you. So do all of you.”

The rest of the ride over to Knowhere is mostly occupied with making awkward conversation, and Fandral trying to hide his blatant ogling from Sif. When they arrive, Thor, Hogun, and Sif help their respective dates out of the limo, and Fandral tries to do the same, but Linnea rolls her eyes and hops out herself.

Maya and Maria happen to be walking up at the same time, and Maria takes one look at the bunch of them and says, “ _Damn!_ Looking good, guys!”

“Thank you!” calls Thor cheerfully. “You and Maya as well!” Sif and Melinda nod agreement.

“Thank you,” Maya says. She feels stupidly nervous, and the way she’s squeezing Maria’s hand probably shows it.

Maria turns to murmur in her ear, “Hey, you’re my girl, okay?”

Maya bites her lip, nodding. “Thank you,” she says softly.

Inside, it’s fairly busy: people are dancing and milling around chatting, the music’s loud and boisterous, and it actually seems like a pretty fun party. “Even Nebula’s getting into the spirit of...something,” Maria says with a smirk, watching Nebula wander around actually talking to people.

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Maya drawls.

Maria snorts. “Probably not.” She glances over to where Natasha is dancing with Bereet. “Well, Nat’s got herself a nice partner.”

“Wasn’t this entire thing a way for Quill to get Bee in the sack?” Maya asks.

“Probably,” says Maria, unable to hide the disdain in her voice. “Surprising no one, that’s backfired.”

“Hello, Bruce!” Thor is saying, as he and Jane meet Bruce and Mack just inside the entrance.

“Hey, guys,” says Bruce with a shy smile. “Just get here?”

“We did,” Jane agrees. “Fandral insisted we get a limo.”

Mack laughs. “Sounds like him. Never been in one, myself. How was it?”

“Sort of uncomfortable, honestly,” Jane sighs.

“Aw, I’m sorry. You look nice, though,” replies Bruce.

“Thank you,” Jane says. “I feel a little uncomfortable, too, because that’s what happens when Darcy picks out your shoes, but, it’s one night. I guess.”

“I know the feeling,” Mack shrugs. “But yeah, it’s one night, and I didn’t go to my school’s prom, so it’s kinda nice to do this now.”

“I was named the king of my prom,” says Thor with a lazy grin. “And Sif was the queen. We both found it very amusing, since neither of us has ever been interested in pursuing a relationship with the other.”

Bruce laughs. “That must’ve been odd.”

“It was. I believe my mother still has a picture hanging in our home.”

Jane chortles. “She’s funny that way.”

Sif, meanwhile, is standing against the wall with Melinda, watching the dance floor and running her hand possessively down Melinda’s back. “Oh look,” she says with a smirk, “Stark got Pepper to dance with him.”

It’s a slow dance at the moment, and Melinda rolls her eyes. “I hope to god they’re not actually on a date.”

“Thank Christ they’re not,” Victoria mutters, sidling up to them. “More like Tony begged before Pepper had a chance to come up with an alibi.”

“Good, I hoped she had more sense than that,” says Melinda. “Nice to see you two,” she adds with a small smirk.

Isabelle grins. “We’re not here for long, just to be sociable.”

“And humor Bobbi, who otherwise wouldn’t shut up,” Victoria adds.

Sif grins. “Yes, this doesn’t seem exactly your scene. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Victoria says, preening a little (the pregaming glass of wine she had at dinner is helping her mood). “I’m pretty happy about it.”

“Me too,” says Isabelle, squeezing Victoria’s hand. “And I mean, I went to my high school prom, but being able to go to this one with my wife is pretty nice.”

“Sap,” Victoria teases.

Isabelle kisses her cheek. “I’m allowed, I think.”

“Aren’t you two sweet,” says Sif, grinning playfully. “Any other plans for tonight?” She says it like she knows exactly what the answer is.

Victoria raises her eyebrow at Isabelle. That’s Isabelle’s job to say, but also there are right and wrong answers. Isabelle shrugs and says, “Nothing fancy, probably just going home after this. Maybe pick up some cheesecake on the way.”

“Uh huh,” says Melinda, amused. “Well, you two have fun with that.”

“What about you?” Victoria asks in a cheerful challenge. “I can’t imagine you’re sticking around too long.”

“Probably not,” agrees Melinda. “Might have to get a cab or walk, though. Fandral got a limo to bring us here.” She snorts. “Spent the whole ride blatantly staring at me.”

“He’s a disgusting moron,” Victoria groans.

Sif nods. “I gave him a bruise on the arm and a death glare for his troubles. Not that I was surprised, he’s always hated how I get more girls than he ever could.”

“I imagine that has something to do with how you treat them,” snarks Isabelle. “Like people, and all.”

Snickering, Melinda gestures toward the dance floor, where Linnea and Lorelei are dancing together in what is not entirely a chaste way. “Seems like he’s shot himself in the foot again.”

“That’s a dangerous game she’s playing,” says Sif, looking a bit alarmed. “Maybe I should…”

“She’ll be okay,” Melinda says with a shrug. “She seems pretty smart, bad decisions in dating men aside.”

“Any decision to date a man is a bad one,” Victoria says dramatically, then adding to Melinda mostly, “No offense to your previous… whoever.”

Melinda shrugs. “None taken. As a whole, they’re iffy at best.”

“Anyway, we’ll let you get back to it,” says Isabelle. “Have a good evening.”

“You too,” says Sif, waving as they wander off. “I didn’t mean I’d go swooping in to rescue Linnea, necessarily,” she adds quietly to Melinda. “Just that I know how Lorelei is…”

Melinda nods. “I know. I wasn’t worried.” She brushes her hand down Sif’s arm. “She’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Sif smiles. “Just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“I wouldn’t,” promises Melinda.

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re Pam, right?” Natasha asks with a small smirk, leaning over the table. “I love your dress.”

Pam, who’s seated at one of the tables in the corner next to Hope V. and wearing a rather tight smile, nods. “I’m Pam,” she agrees. “And thanks. One advantage of having a stupidly fancy ex is having stupidly fancy dresses laying around, I guess.”

Hope smirks, sipping her punch. Her other hand is very notably under the table and at the very least on Pam’s thigh. “I for one think you look gorgeous,” she purrs. “You look pretty good too, Natasha.”

Natasha chuckles. “This old thing? Thanks. And you, of course, in that suit of yours.”

“It seemed fitting,” Hope says with a shrug. Her hand is still under the table and Pam has definitely progressed to biting her lip. “And it’s better than hauling my ass out to get some dress I’ll never wear again.”

“For sure.” Natasha glances back at Pam. She knows exactly what’s going on, and she wants to play for a little while longer. “And you work at the campus clinic, right?”

“I’m a secretary in the science department, actually,” Pam says, sounding like it’s taking a lot of effort to remain calm.

“Oh, I see. Must be interesting? I mean, more so than other secretary work, maybe.”

“Yes,” Pam says, sounding like she’s gasping for air. “I think I’ve learned more about science than I did in my entire academic career, so that counts for…” She trails off for a second. “Well, something, anyway.”

“It sure does.” Natasha smirks again. “Well, you two have a lovely evening.” She gets up and wanders off.

“Can I…” Pam begins, desperation in her voice.

“You’re being very good,” Hope murmurs. “I think I could allow that.”

Across the dance floor Karen, who’s attempting to be coordinated, snorts out a laugh. “Well, that seems weirdly perfect,” she mutters.

Foggy, whose attempts at coordination are turning out even worse, looks quizzically at her. “What does?”

Karen nods toward the corner. “Hope and Pam,” she says. “Apparently it’s a thing now.”

“Oh.” Foggy follows her nod. “I guess, yeah.”

“Good for her,” Claire says. “From what I heard, her last girlfriend was a piece of work.” She makes a face.

“Oh, you said she was dating Professor Hogarth, right?” Matt asks.

“ _What?_ ” Foggy’s mouth falls open. “I can’t imagine Professor Hogarth dating _anyone._ ”

“Well,” Karen muses, “she sounds like a scary top, and Hope seems like a scary top, too, so I’m guessing that’s the attraction.”

Claire snorts. “Probably. But that ended pretty badly, so I’m glad she’s found someone better.”

Karen nods. “Yeah! Hope is cool. Also really intimidating.”

Matt’s about to say something, but then someone says, “FOGGY BEAR!” and Marci Stahl saunters over. “Look at you, all done up,” she says with a smirk. “It’s adorable.”

“Oh, hey, Marci,” says Foggy, looking just the slightest bit intimidated himself.

“And Matt, and you’re Karen, right? And I don’t know you.” Marci nods at Claire. “I’m Marci.”

“Claire.” Claire grins. “That’s a hell of a lot of sparkle on that dress.”

“Thanks!” Marci twirls around and the dress fluffs up cheerfully. “I figured hell, might as well have fun with it.”

“Uh, who’d you come with?” Karen asks.

“Some guy named Lance,” Marci shrugs. “He’s kind of an idiot, but he asked ‘cause I end up at Applebee’s happy hour a lot, don’t judge me, and I figured why not? But hey, now I can hang out with you guys instead!”

“Sure,” says Matt, who’s grinning in Foggy’s direction. Foggy sticks his tongue out at him (even though he knows that won’t do any good).

“C’mon, let’s dance!” Marci grabs both Karen and Foggy’s hands.

Eventually Clint and Laura make their way over in their general direction and Marci says to Karen, “They were going for an ironic 80s look, huh? That’s gutsy.”

“Apparently,” Karen giggles. “They’re adorable weirdos. They can get away with it.”

Clint overhears and calls, “Funny story, we were in Goodwill and she tried this dress on as a joke and she rocked it, so I decided to just go with it.”

“You’d think I rocked anything,” Laura groans playfully.

Clint shrugs. “I mean, it’s true.”

“Aw,” coos Marci. “Precious. I’m Marci, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Laura, and that dork is Clint,” says Laura, grinning.

“That’s me,” says Clint. “Nice to meet you. Are you new at the mall? I haven’t seen you around.”

Marci giggles. “Oh, no, I would never. I know these two from class-” she gestures to Matt and Foggy “-and I came with some loser named Lance, I don’t know where he is.”

At that, Clint can’t hold back a laugh. “I know who you’re talking about, and he is definitely a loser.”

 

* * *

 

“Here I am, Quill,” Gamora calls when she and Mike enter. “You can stop frantically texting.”

Quill walks over from where he’s wolfing down a slice of cake. “Awesome! Hey, nice dress.”

“Thank you,” she says tersely. “Where’s your date?”

“Oh, uh…” Quill glances around the room. “Over there, I guess,” he says, gesturing to where Bereet is talking to Hogun across the room.

Gamora raises an eyebrow, and Mike chuckles. “Well, seems like it’s a good party anyway. Looks good. You do the decorating yourself, I’m guessing?”

“Me and Drax and a couple other people, yeah.” Quill shrugs. “I think it came together pretty well. She keeps saying we should rent this place out, but then we couldn’t have kickass parties.” He grins at Gamora. “You gotta admit this is pretty good, right?”

“It’s exactly what you were going for,” Gamora declares.

Quill laughs. “Well, close enough. I like your bowtie, Mike.”

Mike grins and replies, “Thanks. Ace tied it, I mean, it’s only a little crooked. He’s getting there.”

“Yeah. So hey, you should go dance!” Quill starts doing something stupid with his feet.

“I’m not going to dance,” Gamora insists.

Mike shrugs. “I’m not much of a dancer either.”

“Aw, c’mon! It’s fun!” Quill stays in front of them dancing for a couple more minutes, but when it becomes obvious they’re not going to cave, he shrugs and boogies away.

Gamora sighs. “We should find Nebula,” she says. “Make sure she’s not doing anything too outrageous.”

“I don’t know what she could get up to here,” says Mike with a laugh. “But it can’t hurt.”

They stick to the edges of the room, and walk past Drax and Joey who seem to be having a great time making up dance moves together. “Gamora!” calls Drax with a wide grin. “You’re here! And looking very nice!” Joey waves, looking a little shy.

Gamora rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Well, I knew it was either show up or face Quill’s pathetic wrath,” she says.

Drax laughs. “Well now you are here!”

Mike glances over toward the refreshments table, where Jessica seems to be...rummaging in her cleavage for something. Finally she pulls out something metal (or at least it glints in the light) and leans over the punch bowl.

“Jess, don’t!” Trish exclaims, coming over with the most disapproving look she can manage.

Jess looks up. “What? I tried it already, it’s not spiked. What’s the point of prom if the punch isn’t spiked?”

“She’s got a point,” Luke says.

“There are kids here!” Trish squeaks.

“If you’re talking about Hope, she’s four months away from 21 and she’s over there talking to her date drinking a soda,” Luke points out. Sure enough, Hope and Wanda are seated at a table nearby. “And I’m actually surprised it wasn’t already spiked.”

Trish sighs. “I am too, actually.”

Jessica shrugs and takes a drink from the flask instead. “It’s stupid but I guess we should dance, huh?”

“Yes!” Trish says, grinning. “You both look so nice.”

“You too,” says Luke, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all hot,” says Jess, rolling her eyes (but giving Trish a small smile). “Let’s get this over with.” She offers her hand.

Mike chuckles and goes to catch up with Gamora, who has finally found Nebula. “You seem like you’re being sociable tonight,” Gamora says warily.

“Yeah.” Nebula shrugs. “You’re always telling me to talk to people.”

“I know, but you don’t usually listen,” Gamora says.

“I just felt like it.” Then Nebula wanders off without further comment.

“Maybe she _is_ up to something,” Mike says.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, look at Hunter moping,” giggles Skye. “I see his whole bring-a-random-date thing didn’t exactly work out.”

“I really dodged a bullet,” Audrey sighs, turning to smile at Bobbi. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Bobbi says with a shrug, “this isn’t exactly a pity date.”

Audrey blushes. “Still,” she says. “And, uh, Skye, Jemma…”

Jemma smiles brightly. “We don’t have an exclusivity clause with Bobbi,” she says. “Though I do appreciate being asked permission, because not everyone would pass.”

“I’m flattered, I think?” Audrey says.

“You should be,” says Skye with a smirk. “Bobbi’s pretty cool and she deserves people who are pretty cool.”

Fitz drums his fingers on the tabletop. “I don’t really know what to do at things like this,” he confesses quietly to Trip. “I didn’t go to mine.”

“It’s okay,” says Trip with a smile. “I went to mine, but it was with a friend and we just kinda hung out. I think we can kinda do whatever we want.”

“It’s all right, nobody’s going to make you dance,” Jemma says, at the same time Skye says “You can dance!”

Fitz makes a face. “I should’ve known _you’d_ say that.”

“Be nice,” Jemma chides her girlfriend.

“I didn’t say he _had_ to,” Skye protests. “I just said he could! Speaking of...” She smirks. “You wanna?”

Jemma giggles, tossing her hair. “Go easy on me,” she says.

“‘Course,” says Skye, grabbing her hand and tugging her out onto the floor.

“Jemma’s necklace is interesting,” Audrey comments as she watches the younger girls go.

It’s two chokers on top of each other, one silver and one black leather, and Bobbi just smirks. “That it really is,” she says.


	96. if when he holds me, my heart sets in motion, I'm not prepared for that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adult prom continues, complete with an elected court. The Prom Queen is less than thrilled by this arrangement. Part 2 of 2.

Rosalind and Coulson enter, with Coulson on a leash. “Sorry we’re late,” she drawls, surveying the room with a bored expression. “We got tied up.”

Quill stops what he’s doing (right in the middle of one of his best dance moves) and stares, eyes wide.

“Is something wrong?” Rosalind asks him.

He manages to squeak out “Nope!” and goes back to dancing, trying very hard to pretend he doesn’t see any of this.

Coulson blinks. “What’s the matter?”

“Someone apparently thought his adult prom was going to stay vanilla,” she sniffs.

“Oh.” Coulson tilts his head. “Is that all?”

“I’d guess so,” she says. “Come on, we may as well dance a few.” And she tugs him toward the dancefloor.

A few feet away from where they end up, Skye snickers. “Well, I see they’re up to their usual.”

“Oh my,” Jemma says, fidgeting with her necklace.

“Hey,” Skye calls casually, “you guys look good.”

Rosalind raises an eyebrow. “I know,” she says, nudging Coulson to cross the floor.

“That’s… happening,” Jemma murmurs.

“Sure is,” snickers Skye. Then she playfully dips Jemma.

 

* * *

 

“I keep meaning to say, I, I really like your dress,” Hope S. squeaks, looking Wanda in the eye but as shyly as possible.

Wanda glances down as if she’s forgotten what she’s wearing (which, truth be told, she has). “Thank you,” she says with her own shy smile. “Raina helped me pick it out. Um, do you know her? I forget.”

“Kind of?” Hope says, frowning. “I mean, I know who she is.” She nods into the crowd, where said woman (in a very boldly floral ballgown) is currently twirling under Vanessa’s arm.

“Yes. She’s...we’re friends, and she helps me with things sometimes.” Wanda shrugs. “It’s complicated. Anyway. I like your dress also, it’s very, um, sparkly.”

Hope giggles. “Well, the dress I wore to real prom was definitely not sparkly, so I decided it was time to make up for that,” she says, pushing her hair back. “And it… it’s fun. Yeah.”

“It is,” says Wanda, grinning. “So...would you like to dance?”

“Yeah,” Hope says. “I mean… yeah. I’m probably not all that good at it, but I’d like to.”

“That’s all right, I’m not very good either,” giggles Wanda. “I looked up some videos but they were only mildly helpful, and my brother tried to help, but he got bored.”

“He seems to be occupying himself here,” Hope says. Pietro is casually jogging around the parameter of the room, having apparently gotten bored with everything else.

“Yes, he’s good at finding things to do when he gets bored. Which is often.” Wanda rolls her eyes fondly. She offers her hand. “Shall we?”

Hope nods and takes Wanda’s hand, suddenly shy again. “We shall.”

Meanwhile, Christine is at Raina and Lorelei’s table, interviewing Lorelei for an article she’s working on about the practices and ethics of consensual polyamory. Their respective dates for this formal are on the floor together, of course, and Lorelei is watching them with some amusement, but when her gaze drifts, she holds up a hand and says to Christine, “Just a second, all right?”

“Of course,” Christine says, pausing her recording for a moment and smiling wryly.

“Raina,” Lorelei calls, waving her over. “Did you know about little sister’s prom date?”

“Yes,” Raina says with a shrug. “But if we approach them, we’ll spook them. Best stay out of it for now.”

Lorelei rolls her eyes, but she’s smirking. “Noted.” Then she turns back to Christine and says, “What’s your next question, sweetie?”

“Earlier I noticed you dancing with Fandral’s girlfriend, and it seemed to be getting pretty steamy. Is there a difference between that and the kind of ethical poly you usually involve yourself in?”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Lorelei laughs. “Well, first off, Fandral and Linnea aren’t technically exclusive, more like… convenient fuckbuddies, from what I can see. And, all right, she might have wanted to get a rise out of him, which I’m never opposed to, but it’s not like it was going to go any farther than what you might see at a nightclub between friends.”

“Makes sense. But you wouldn’t involve yourself with a person who was already in, what did you call it, a closed relationship?”

“I wouldn’t involve myself with a woman in a closed relationship,” Lorelei says, “but if I had a good reason to want to wreck a man in one, I might. That’s off the record. Don’t think it’d be quite the message you’re trying to send.”

Christine laughs. “Off the record, I swear. But I can see the appeal, for sure. Any other final comments?”

“Only that you should make sure to talk to others, not because I don’t think you will but because my situation is not the same as everyone else’s,” Lorelei shrugs.

“That’s definitely part of my plan for the evening,” nods Christine. “Well, thank you for that.”

“Glad to help educate,” Lorelei replies.

 

* * *

 

“Stop stepping on my toes, Buck,” Steve says fondly.

“Hey, that’s how I show I love you,” replies Bucky with a shit-eating grin. “Crushed toes.”

“Aw, should we write that into your wedding vows?” asks Natasha from where she’s dancing with Sam (not stepping on his toes). She’s also wearing Bucky’s tiara, snatched from his head earlier.

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking. “I thought you showed you loved me by painting my eyelids silver,” he replies.

“Loooooove is a many splendored thing,” sings Sam, also grinning.

“Honestly, you’ll make it look like all we do is banter,” Sharon deadpans as T’Challa dances her past them.

“But we do,” counters Natasha, letting Sam twirl her.

T’Challa chuckles. “Your partners seem amusing.”

“They’re a bunch of dorks,” Sharon says. “I’m pretty fond of them.”

“That’s important,” he says with a smile.

“So you’re from…?” she begins, tilting her head.

“Wakanda. My father is the head of Vibranium Technologies, and he sent me here to gain some experience outside our country and to take some classes he felt might be useful for my future. And I thought it might be more interesting than attending endless business dinners and parties,” he adds with a grin.

“I mean, it probably depends on the parties,” Sharon teases, “but that definitely makes sense. How’d Stark rope you into paintball?”

He shrugs. “It seemed like a good way to meet people. He didn’t really explain it very well, but I didn’t care either. I’m sorry for targeting Bucky - Stark said he might be a significant threat.”

“Yeah, he would,” she sighs. “But don’t worry about it. Least it’s a good story.”

“Yes. I had a good time. What about you, Sharon, what’s your story?”

“Oh, the usual,” she says cheerfully. “Semi-local girl gets snared by a retail job and is cured of any significant wanderlust by her girlfriend and three boyfriends.”

“That doesn’t seem so usual.”

“I might just be hanging with a weird crowd, then,” she smirks.

“That can happen,” T’Challa says, returning her smirk.

 

* * *

 

“Will you be alright if I ask Bereet for a dance?” Hogun asks Hannah. “She seems out of sorts.”

“Aw, yeah, go ahead!” Hannah exclaims. “Poor thing, she needs cheered up.”

Hogun nods and goes over to where Bereet is sitting and sipping punch, trying not to look unhappy. (Quill’s been running around actually managing the event, at the voting booth for the prom court, or on the dance floor by himself most of the evening.) Hannah takes the opportunity to glance around the room, but it doesn’t last more than a couple minutes before Malcolm comes over, smiling. “Hey! You wanna dance, maybe?”

“Oh!” Hannah exclaims, a little surprised. “Yeah, that sounds nice!”

He leads her out onto the floor and grins. “Hope this isn’t weird. I just know, you’re involved with all that volunteer stuff, right? I think that’s pretty cool. How’d you start doing that?”

“Not weird,” she agrees. “I, uh, church. Some of it is with my church, some of it kind of spiraled out from stuff I did with my church.”

“Oh, gotcha. I haven’t been to church in a while. I grew up in it, but.” He shrugs. “I like a lot of the ideas, not so much the politics of church itself.”

Hannah nods. “I can understand that,” she says. “I’m sorry you’ve had those experiences, though.”

“Thanks.” Malcolm smiles. “I mean, it’s okay. I kinda do it my own way. I’m in school for psychology and I’m taking a lot of social awareness classes - I wanna help people. I think that’s what my mom was talking about when she talked about Jesus, you know?”

“That’s really cool!” she exclaims. “I mean, yeah, that’s - it’s about trying to do the right thing, not just posturing.”

Malcolm laughs, a little nervous. “I dunno, that’s what I think about it. How about you, what do you wanna do?”

“I’m honestly still figuring it out,” she admits. “I guess - I wanna do good, but I’m not sure how best to do that yet.”

“Well, it’s a good goal, anyway,” he says. “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” Then he glances over at where Jessica, Luke, and Trish are grouped up. Luke is sort of dancing, in that his shoulders are moving and he seems to be shifting his weight from side to side a bit self-consciously; Trish is bouncing on her heels and occasionally swaying her hips, grabbing Jessica’s hands every so often; Jessica is standing stock-still, refusing to dance and making a face like everyone and everything around her personally ran over her dog and then set the corpse on fire. “So my neighbors are being themselves,” he adds, nodding so Hannah can look too.

She looks in their direction, puzzled. “Jessica seems really annoyed.”

Malcolm grins. “She’s always like that. She’ll go to bat for you if she likes you, but she hates letting people in. Jessica’s only scary if you piss her off.”

“I hope she doesn’t get pissed off for real too often,” Hannah says.

“I haven’t seen it,” he says, shrugging. “Then again, I just live down the hall with them and hang out sometimes.”

“Sounds like that’s more than most people,” she points out.

“Probably. They’re cool.” He shrugs again. “So, anyway. Got any pets?”

 

* * *

 

“Logan asked us to text him a selfie,” says Laura, “if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” says Cessily with a giggle. “That’s funny.”

“He said that he skipped his prom to ‘get wasted and shoot beer bottles off a fence,’ but that he hoped we have a good time.” Laura shrugs. Then she holds up her phone and puts her arm around Cessily, smiling just slightly as she takes the picture.

“Aw, cute,” says Nebula, who’s on the other side of the table. “I’m gonna barf.”

“Don’t be mean,” Carina chides.

Nebula shrugs. “I’m not, really.”

“I’m not offended,” says Laura. “Public displays of affection may make people very uncomfortable. I often feel this way about other couples, so I understand the irritation.”

“I guess,” Carina says doubtfully.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, everyone!” calls Quill, stepping up to the DJ booth. “Hey, uh, Eric, Billy, can you quiet the music for a sec? Thanks.” They do, which is met with boos because it’s right in the middle of “Helpless” from _Hamilton_ and a few people were having an impromptu sing-along, but soon people quiet down. “Alright,” says Quill, grabbing the microphone, “so we’re gonna go ahead and do prom court, okay? The voting booth was over there” he waves his hand in the vague direction “and everybody’s been voting all night for three choices for each category, and so there’s gonna be two Princes or Princesses and one King and Queen. We’ve, uh, got all the votes counted up, so here we go.” He clears his throat for dramatic effect.

Nebula turns to Carina and gives her an evil smirk. “This’ll be fun.”

“Your idea of deviousness is weird,” Carina points out.

“Hey, I’m trying to be nice. Sorta.” Nebula winks.

“So our first prince is...Trip!”

Trip blinks, obviously a little started, then grins easily. “Be right back,” he says to Fitz, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek before standing up and walking over to the booth. “Thanks, y’all!” he calls when the applause dies down.

“And our first princess is...Jemma!”

Jemma squeaks. “Honestly?” she asks Skye, barely audible over the applause.

Skye shrugs. “Guess so. I mean, I voted for you to be queen, but.” She grins. “Go get ‘em, honey.”

“Okay,” she says, high-pitched and definitely fluttery-sounding. She goes up to the front, waving skittishly, and ducks a bit so Quill can crown her, even though she doesn’t need to because she’s not that tall. She promptly proceeds to make a face at Trip, who winks playfully at her.

“And our second prince is...Rhodey!”

“Wait, what?” Rhodey glances at Tony, who’s sitting on his other side (Kara’s to his right). “Did you do this, because if this is some kind of joke, I swear...”

“No, man, you did. Just by being yourself.” Tony pats his shoulder. “Go collect your accolades, I’ll be here.”

So he does, looking a little wary as he goes, but once he’s there he shrugs and leans against the booth with a casual smirk. “Thanks, everybody, I guess. Can’t say I expected this.”

“That’s the best part!” says Quill cheerfully, before going back to his cue cards. “And the second princess is...Kara!”

“Uh,” Kara exclaims.

“Go on,” says Tony, surprisingly gentle. “You deserve the accolades too.”

She fusses with her hair a bit, biting her lip, but she nods and hurries to join Rhodey. Not for the first time at one of these events, she’s getting a little watery-eyed. Rhodey smiles at her and offers his hand, which she gladly accepts.

“And now, one of the moments we’ve all been waiting for,” says Quill, just this side of hammy. “Your prom king is...Mike Peterson!”

The room erupts in applause, while Mike just looks completely baffled, but walks over to the booth as if in a daze. When Quill hands him the mic, he coughs awkwardly before saying, “Um, wow, thank you so much, everyone. I really didn’t expect this, ever, so, uh...thanks.” He lets Quill put the crown on him, grinning kind of bashfully.

From their table, Gamora just smirks, giving him an ironic salute.

“And your prom queen is...Gamora Ayala Titan!”

“Holy shit,” Gamora mutters. This is not a dream come true for her. This is a ridiculous mess, which obviously means it’s her sister’s fault. She’s glaring at Nebula as she heads up to the front, shaking her head.

Nebula, in return, gives her a shit-eating grin and nudges Carina. “It worked!”

“Clearly,” Carina says, “but she looks furious.”

“I know,” crows Nebula. “It’s great!”

“You confuse me,” Carina says.

“Speech!” says Quill, shoving the mic in Gamora’s face.

“No,” Gamora says flatly, shoving it back.

“Fine,” replies Quill with a shrug. “Picture time! Everyone couple up!”

Jemma and Trip glance at each other with matching incredulous looks. “Ah, Quill, you know, ah…” Jemma begins.

“I know, but it’s just for one picture,” he coaxes. “C’mon, please?”

“Why?” she asks.

“‘Cause it’ll look nicer. I mean, the other two are coupled up, right?” He glances at Gamora and Mike and Rhodey and Kara.

“Ugh,” Gamora says helpfully.

Rhodey looks at Kara for guidance, and she shrugs with a little smile. Rhodey shrugs too. “Sure, whatever.”

“We could just stand on each side of the group,” Trip offers. “Symmetry and all.”

“Yes!” Jemma exclaims.

“Sure,” says Quill agreeably. He steps out and walks to stand in front of them, holding up his phone. “Group up, c’mon.”

Mike and Gamora take the middle spots, Gamora making no secret of her discomfort, and Mike gives a little half-smirk but doesn’t really touch her out of respect. The others line up accordingly, Jemma and Trip on each side as asked, and Quill takes a couple pictures. “Great! Nice job, guys. Congratulations!”

Gamora rolls her eyes, beelining for her sister’s table as soon as she can. “What the _hell_ ,” she hisses.

Nebula glances up, cool as an international spy. “What’re you yelling at me for?” she asks, playing innocent.

“You clearly had something to do with that _charade_ ,” Gamora declares.

“Maybe,” Nebula replies with a shrug. “So?”

“Is this your idea of a hilarious joke?”

“I mean, it was pretty funny.” Smirking, Nebula takes a swig of her drink.

“Hey,” Mike says, just as Gamora’s about to blow up at her again, “you wanna dance? She’s not gonna apologize or anything, you know that.”

“Nope,” agrees Nebula.

“Fine,” Gamora says, pointedly ignoring her sister. “One dance.”

Mike laughs. “Totally fine, that’s all I want anyway.”

 

* * *

 

“You know, I was prom queen,” remarks Irani with an amused smile.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” says Fury, which is true.

She nods. “I was student council president, which I suppose counted in my favor, and not really popular, but decently well-liked. The boy who was voted king was some preening, insipid cretin, I don’t even remember his name. He was afraid of me, though.”

“As he should’ve been,” says Fury, smirking. “I always thought dances were stupid. Didn’t go to any of mine.”

“I wouldn’t, if not for some very persuasive friends.” Irani rolls her eyes fondly. “This isn’t so bad though, inherent ridiculousness aside.”

“I don’t have to worry about anyone accidentally causing some kind of mayhem,” Fury says with a shrug. “Close enough to a relaxing evening, with this bunch.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Audrey murmurs, resting her head against Bobbi’s shoulder. “You’re a pretty good dancer.”

“I’m passable,” Bobbi says. “I was coordinated enough for drill team and tall enough that I had to learn how to lead in partner-dances early on.”

“Well, I like it,” Audrey says “You’re good at making me look like I know what I’m doing.”

“And you’re playing humble,” Bobbi says, twirling Audrey out without any warning. “You’re good at this. Comes with being a pretty pretty princess.”

“That’s never going to die, is it?” Audrey asks, rolling her eyes.

“Nope,” Bobbi replies with a smirk. “I think we were all expecting you to show up in another one of those ballgown numbers, not… some slinky 1940s-looking deal.”

“Is it too much?” Audrey frowns.

“No, it’s nice,” Bobbi says, looking Audrey over as much as she can while they’re dancing. “Just a surprise.”

“Well, that suits,” Audrey murmurs, smiling shyly. “This whole night has been a surprise. A really nice one.”

“Do I detect a hint of flirtation?” Bobbi asks.

“You might,” Audrey says. “Your odds are pretty good.”

 

* * *

 

“That’s a good look for you,” Lorelei croons.

Sif jumps. “Christ! What are you doing?” she snaps. Mostly, she’s frustrated with herself for not being alert enough to realize Lorelei was sneaking up on her. Melinda’s in the restroom, and she’s alone at the table for the moment.

“I’m complimenting you,” Lorelei says, rolling her eyes. “Is that allowed?”

Sif snorts. “I don’t know. Depends on why.”

“Because you look good,” Lorelei shrugs. “I don’t mean anything more than that.”

“Alright,” says Sif, still wary. “You’ll understand why I’m a bit skeptical.”

“Yes, yes,” Lorelei sighs. “I’m not going to try and get in the way of whatever you have going right now, you know.”

“Good. I mean...not that I thought…” Sif stops talking for a minute. “I knew you wouldn’t. Melinda, she’s-”

“Intimidating?” Lorelei supplies. “Actually well-suited to you?”

“Either of those you’d prefer.”

“I prefer the second, but the first is true too,” Lorelei says coolly. “Congratulations, or something.”

Sif raises an eyebrow. “Thanks. You seem happy.”

“I do all right for myself,” Lorelei says, drifting back into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

“May I have this dance?”

Skye glances up, a little startled. She’s been playing on her phone since Jemma and Bobbi are off dancing and nobody else has talked to her for a few minutes. Raina’s standing in front of her table. “Uh, hi,” she says, tilting her head. “You’re asking _me_ to dance?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Raina asks, shrugging.

Skye almost starts to list off the reasons - you’re kinda taken and your maybe-girlfriend-maybe-lover is terrifying, we barely talk, I’m a terrible dancer - before she just shrugs. “Just...wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well, expect it,” Raina says. “May I?” She holds a hand out impatiently.

“Yeah, uh, sure.” Skye takes it and lets herself be pulled out of her chair. “Just so you know, I’m a pretty bad dancer.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Raina says. “You looked… absent.”

“I’m okay. I was just a little bored. So, thanks, I guess.” Skye follows Raina and lets her put her hand on Skye’s back.

“You’re welcome,” Raina chirps. “How’s life?”

“I mean, no real complaints. Got a job that only kind of sucks ass, got some classes that don’t suck ass at all, got a kickass girlfriend. Life’s pretty good for me.”

“Two kickass girlfriends, if appearances serve,” Raina smirks.

Skye laughs. “I mean, Bobbi doesn’t use that word, really. It’s different for her. But yeah, we hang out and do, y’know, stuff together.”

“Is there one she does use?” Raina asks. “I mean, just to make sure I get the terms correct. I know how that can be.” She shrugs self-effacingly.

“Not...we call her our third sometimes, I guess. It’s not like, a thing.”

Raina nods. “That works well enough,” she says. “That’s the important thing, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Skye’s quiet a moment - she’s debating whether or not to say something. “So, uh, what’s up with you and Kara? If I can ask.”

“You can,” Raina says, smirking. “She’s a nice girl. I remind her.”

That’s about as vague as Skye expects from Raina, but it still makes her laugh. “I mean, I figured it wasn’t an exclusive thing,” she nods at where Rhodey and Kara are dancing adorably badly, “but, y’know. Looking out for my friend.”

“That’s good of you,” Raina murmurs. “Twirl?”

“Sure.” Skye grins and lets Raina twirl her, giggling. “You’re a way better dancer than me.”

“I’m sure I’ve had more practice, which is not a bad thing, just a true one,” Raina shrugs. “How do you think of him?”

“Him? Uh…”

“With Kara,” Raina says, smiling patiently.

“Oh.” Skye pauses. “I hadn’t…I mean, he seems pretty cool. She said he came to stay with her the night they brought back Autumn, and she didn’t even ask him to, Karen did, so.”

“Karen’s sweet to her,” Raina hums. “That’s nice. He seems very… pleasant. Despite his association with Stark.”

Skye snorts and replies, “I mean, I understand the whole ‘my old friend is kind of an ass’ thing, and at least I’ve never seen him excuse Tony for any of his really stupid bullshit.”

“That is something,” Raina agrees. “Keep an eye on him, would you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Skye nods with more seriousness than she probably should, but it feels serious somehow.

“Thank you,” Raina says. “I’m trying to form an opinion of him.” Why goes unspoken, she assumes.

“Makes sense,” agrees Skye. “Well, I think he’s a decent guy, but I’ll make sure of it.”

“I trust you,” Raina nods.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad nobody tried to ruin prom,” Sharon says, sighing contentedly.

“What kind of Grinch would try to ruin the prom?” Steve asks completely in earnest.

Natasha snorts. “ _That_ was the best descriptor you could come up with?”

“The Grinch ruins things,” Steve says.

“The Grinch ruins _Christmas,_ as I understand it. Not prom.”

“Well, is there an equivalent?”

“The mean girls from _Carrie,_ ” Bucky suggests. “Kind of?”

Sam shrugs. “I never saw that but from what I know, that sounds about right.”

“I think the point got across,” Sharon says kindly. “And I’m very thankful we all got a night off. From work and also… metaphorical Grinches.”

Natasha smiles. “Yeah, this has been really nice. Ridiculous, but nice.”

“Calm,” Steve adds, squeezing Bucky’s hand.

“Yeah.” Bucky rests his head on Steve’s shoulder for a minute. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to wear that the whole rest of the night?”

Sam reaches up to adjust the tiara. “Maybe,” he says with a playful grin. “You wanna come and get it or what?”

Sharon snatches it off his head with a triumphant “Gotcha!”

“Dammit.” Sam hesitates as if thinking, then lunges for her to grab it back, but she’s off and running before he can reach her.

“Awww, they’re adorable,” snarks Natasha.

“So are they,” says Bucky with a snicker, nodding over to where Tony and Rhodey are slow-dancing (since Pepper left awhile ago).

“Oh, good,” Steve sighs contentedly, “he’s found someone else to occupy his time with.”

Sure enough, the two of them are...well, comfortably intimate, like they’ve done this before (knowing Tony, they probably have). Rhodey grins at him. “Hey, you’re finally not stepping on my toes.”

“I resent the implication that I would ever such a thing,” scoffs Tony. “But, uh, thanks, pal. For, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah. We both knew this was gonna happen.” Rhodey rolls his eyes fondly.

Meanwhile, Clint looks very smug as he and Laura dance. “Have I mentioned how nice you look? ‘Cause you look really nice,” he says.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Laura hums. “Thanks for putting up with the puffy sleeves.”

“I love the puffy sleeves,” says Clint. “They’re adorable. Just like you.”

“You’re a flatterer,” she decides. “Also a big dork.”

He laughs. “You knew that, though. You got yourself into this.”

“I did,” she says, grinning. “Notice I say these things fondly.”

“Oh, of course.” He kisses her on the cheek.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you,” Jane says, resting her head on Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t think my feet could have stood another dance.”

“Of course, my love,” says Thor warmly. “I would not want you to be in pain.”

“You’re kind of eternally a gentleman, aren’t you,” she laughs.

He shrugs. “I try to be, I suppose.”

“Thank you for not trying to drag your brother out of his corner, too,” she continues.

Thor glances over to where Loki is slouched in the corner of the room, pouting. “My brother will find his own way tonight,” he says. “I love him, but tonight is for you and I.”

“This is a much better experience than real prom,” Jane declares.

“Much better,” he agrees, kissing her hand. “Shall I get you some refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” she says. “I’ll be here not moving.”

“Very well, I’ll be back soon.” Thor heads for the refreshments table, passing Matt and his friends, who are watching Malcolm and Akela awkwardly dancing.

“See, it was like this,” Malcolm says, pausing to indicate the literal foot of space between their bodies. “If you didn’t, you’d get yelled at.”

“‘Leave room for Jesus,’ they’d say,” says Akela with a roll of her eyes.

“Like Jesus would wanna get in between a couple of sweaty teenagers,” Karen snarks.

Akela laughs. “Well, you’d think not, but they were very strict about it.”

“That’s fucking weird,” says Marci.

“So what was even the point?” Claire asks. “Of the church dances, I mean?”

Malcolm shrugs. “I guess they were trying to make sure we wouldn’t try to go to the scary public school dances where everyone snuck off to fuck in the bathroom or whatever. Not that that was actually a thing,” he adds with a grin, “but they sure mentioned it often enough. In Christianese, I mean.”

“Small conservative towns are ridiculous even if the schools are supposed to be secular,” adds Akela.

Matt laughs and says, “Catholics aren’t big on dancing either, so I get that.”

Karen makes a face. “Boy, isn’t it nice to not have to worry about that?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Malcolm laughs. “Not that I ever cared about dancing sexy anyway, but I’m not going to hell if I do.”

 

* * *

 

“I should have worn my sneakers,” Hope laughs, flopping in a chair. “Which, by the way, thank you for that coupon. It was well-spent.”

“Oh, of course,” replies Wanda with a smile. “I wasn’t really sure what to get you, so I’m glad it was helpful.”

“It was,” Hope agrees. “They’re great. Bright pink.”

“They sound lovely. You’ll have to show them to me sometime.” Then Wanda looks a little nervous. “I mean, if you want to.”

“No, I do,” Hope says a little too quickly. “I would really like that.”

Wanda’s about to respond, when Pietro comes running up and sits down in a chair across from them. “Have you tried the punch?” he asks. “It’s very good! And not spiked, though I saw Jessica trying earlier.”

“Yes, it’s good,” says Wanda, narrowing her eyes. “But you interrupted my date.” Then her eyes widen and she glances at Hope frantically. “Um, I mean…”

“Oops, sorry.” Pietro shrugs nonchalantly and gets up. “I’ll come find you when I’m ready to leave.” He jogs off again.

“Date,” Hope repeats, grinning.

Wanda flushes. “I mean, if that’s alright?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Hope says. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good. I haven’t really, uh, done this before, so I am still figuring it out.”

“That makes two of us,” Hope admits. “We can figure it out together.”

 

* * *

 

“Sure is a nice evening,” Rogue says as the three of them step outside.

“Yes,” Ian agrees, “very temperate.”

“You’re such a dork,” Darcy says fondly, ruffling his hair.

“Way to break out the five-dollar words,” adds Rogue with a teasing grin.

“I do what I can,” Ian says with a shrug. “But temperate weather is important when one is getting air, technically.”

Rogue snorts. “I guess.” She’s about to say something else, but then she hears something that is _definitely_ not a normal outdoor noise. “Do y’all hear moaning or is it just me?”

Darcy crows. “You’re definitely not the only one,” she says in a whisper. “Where’s it coming from, pun intended?”

“The parking lot in back, I think? Which, I wouldn’t pick it, but I guess it takes all sorts,” Rogue murmurs, heading off around the building.

Ian makes a face. “Like… they’re in a car?” he says.

“Well, you and I got frisky in a closet,” Darcy points out. “And a dressing room.”

“Both of which have more room than cars,” Ian points out.

“Might be part of the thrill,” Rogue points out. Then she puts a finger over her lips and sneaks around the corner.

At first it just looks like Rosalind is sitting in Coulson’s convertible, getting off on her own, but then she glances down and hums, “Good boy.”

“Holy shit!” Darcy whispers excitedly.

“Good grief,” Ian mutters.

“Well, I guess that answers that question,” mutters Rogue with a quiet snicker. “Better leave them to it, huh?”

“Apparently,” Darcy says, but she’s staring, fascinated.

“Don’t get any ideas!” Ian yelps.

Rosalind glances up and raises an eyebrow at them, seeming equally amused and annoyed.

“Shit!” Ian cries, running around the corner and waving the girls to follow. They do, giggling hysterically.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for helping me keep out of the drama,” Helen says, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Heimdall laughs. “I am not someone who enjoys cultivating drama. Watching it, sometimes, but I prefer to stay out of it. So, I am happy to help.”

“Most of what we’ve been watching is fairly undramatic, though,” Helen says. “No extramarital affairs.”

“Luckily, there are only two married couples here anyhow,” points out Heimdall, “and neither are the cheating sort.” He nods at Volstagg and Gudrun, who seem to be saying their goodbyes.

“Or affairs of other sorts, without consent,” she shrugs. “I was always led to believe events like this were rife with that.”

Shrugging, Heimdall replies, “I suspect in many circumstances they are, but our small community seems to be low on that sort of drama. Mostly,” he adds, as Sif and Linnea step out for a slow dance.

“I would not blame Linnea for any annoyance with her own date,” Helen smirks.

“No, neither would I.” Heimdall shakes his head and smiles.

Fandral is watching this with a disgruntled expression. Then he turns to Melinda and says, “Hey, how about a dance with yours truly, eh? Since your lady is otherwise occupied?”

Melinda shoots him a withering glare and says, “I’m good.”

 

* * *

 

“This has been really nice,” Kara murmurs.

“Yeah,” Rhodey agrees, smiling. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Thanks for inviting me!” she exclaims. “It’s been really… really nice.”

Rhodey chuckles. “Think you said that already. But yeah, ‘course. I mean, I know you could’ve gone with a couple other people, so…”

“Well, still,” she says. “I wanna keep saying it, because… yeah. And… well, y’know, they… it’s not entirely the same thing, right now? I’m glad to have gone with you.”

“I do, yeah.” He gently runs a hand through her hair. “I had no idea about the King and Queen business, though. I swear some of that was Tony messing around.”

“Eh, probably,” she says blithely. “Or we just have really nice friends.”

“Or that,” Rhodey agrees with a laugh. He leans down to kiss her on the cheek. “I think I already said this, but you look really good.”

She rolls her shoulders, pleased. “Well, you’re pretty damn handsome,” she says.

“Aw, thanks. I’ve had this suit for years,” he says. “Still fits, which is a good sign, I guess. I’m glad I clean up acceptably.”

“More than acceptably,” she insists. “Very nice.”

“Sweet and beautiful,” he replies with a grin. “Leave some good traits for somebody else, huh?”

“Do you mean to make me melt?”

He chuckles. “Not specifically, but is it working?”

She nods very quickly, not trusting herself with saying anything.

“Good,” he says. “You deserve to feel that way.”

 

* * *

 

“That was interesting,” says T’Challa as he and Elena walk outside. “I hope you had fun, even though it was not actually a date?”

Elena chuckles. “I did, yes. It’s nice to have someone who is not American to talk to. America is a wonderful place, but very odd sometimes. I’m still getting used to it.”

“Isn’t it?” chimes in Fitz, who’s walking behind them holding hands with Trip. “I’ve been here for most of my life and I still think it’s kind of weird.”

Jemma, who’s following and latched onto Skye, nods. “Not to interrupt you, but _yes_ ,” she exclaims. “I like it most of the time, I think, but it’s a very different place.”

T’Challa nods. “I’ll have to see what I think of it. I haven’t been here long enough to decide yet.”

“You silly Brits just like having someone who agrees with you,” teases Skye, nudging Jemma playfully.

“I’m Scottish!” protests Fitz.

“Whatever.”

“You all seem a little silly to me,” says Elena, “but in a nice way.”

 

* * *

 

“You sure know how to show a guy a good time,” teases Mike as Gamora unlocks the connecting door to Knowhere.

“What can I say, I’m fancy,” Gamora says with a roll of her eyes, ushering him in and then shutting the door behind them as quickly as she can.

“So where do you wanna, uh…” Mike glances around. “I mean, where is it safe to sit down or whatever?”

She frowns. “Honestly, the office?” she says, leading him toward the door. “It’s basically a large closet but it’s not a health hazard.”

“Sounds good,” he says, grinning.

They’ve been making out for a good ten minutes when someone knocks on the door and Gamora mutters, “Shit.”

Nebula pokes her head into the shop and grunts, “Gamora, I know you guys are in there making out. You’d better be planning on going to his place. I’m not listening to your gross sex noises.”

Gamora hides her face against Mike’s shoulder. “I am so sorry,” she mutters.

Mike laughs. “It’s not like I’m not used to it, after almost six months.”

“Still,” she groans.

Then Mike gets an evil grin on his fact. “Good idea, Nebula!” he yells back. “We will go to my place, thanks for the suggestion!’

“Oh, fuck off,” is the reply, but she sounds almost like she’s grinning too.


	97. honestly I wanna see you be brave, say what you wanna say and let the words fall out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin's company hosts a day for employees and the community at large to help decorate their plaza; it ends up being hilariously appropriate for another occasion, and Odin is none the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride!

“Not to be ridiculous,” Darcy prefaces, which means she’s about to sound ridiculous, “but did your dad realize this is ridiculously gay and did he mean to do this during Pride month?”

Thor laughs. “I doubt that he did, in fact. My father can be quite oblivious when he wishes.”

“Okay,” Darcy says. “Because, y’know. This is ridiculously gay.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Darcy concedes. “But.  You know.”

“What exactly is this for?” Fandral calls, coming over. “I saw that you had invited me on Facebook and decided to come, but I’m still not clear on the details.”

“We are decorating the floor of the company plaza,” explains Thor. “My father wanted it to be a community effort, since the rainbow is a significant element of Norse culture. But,” he adds, grinning, “he did not consider that it is also significant for the LGBT community.”

“Hm,” says Fandral. “But do you think some of the girls here might be responsive?”

“Responsive to the fact that this is really gay?” Darcy asks, batting her eyelashes and giving a twirl (not only did she find a new tutu, this one rainbow, but she’s wearing a shiny tiara and also a Pride flag as a cape).

Fandral coughs. “Er, that wasn’t exactly what I meant…”

“Hello!” calls Sif as she ambles over, hand in hand with Melinda. “Fairly good turnout so far, I’d say.”

“Yes,” agrees Thor. “Melinda, it’s kind of you to agree to this.”

Melinda shrugs. “As dates go, this isn’t a bad one.” She smiles at Sif.

“That’s absurdly sentimental for you,” Darcy declares, holding up her phone to snap a picture and then sprinting away to avoid the blowback.

Sif laughs. “Sorry. She does that.”

Rolling her eyes and smirking, Melinda replies, “I’ll live.”

Fitz and Jemma wander up to Thor, a bit shyly, with their partners in tow. “Hello!” Jemma says eagerly, waving. “We came to help.”

“Yes, it seemed fun,” says Fitz with a shrug. “I told my mom and she thought it was a riot.”

Skye is grinning and wearing the loudest rainbow-striped shirt anyone has ever seen. “So where do we start?” she asks, as if she’s not wearing the blood of highlighters all over her torso.

“The paint is over there,” says Thor, gesturing. “What an...interesting shirt…”

“Right? It’s perfect.”

“Is the rainbow supposed to be shaped any particular way?” Bobbi asks, chuckling. “Arc? Straight line?”

“Well, not too straight,” Jemma quips.

“I’ve drawn lines to indicate where to paint,” Heimdall chimes in from nearby, where he is doing just that. “Just to give people an idea.”

“Great,” says Trip, grabbing a brush from the bucket. “So just start anywhere, right?”

“Yes! We will need as many people as we can get.” Thor grabs a brush of his own and heads over to start on the green stripe.

Pietro zips over to grab a brush. “I love painting!” he says. “Mother never let me.”

“Because you wouldn’t paint the same direction as everyone else,” teases Wanda. “She wanted the walls to look uniform, not textured.”

Pietro shrugs. “No one would have noticed.” Then he heads over to start on the blue.

Wanda rolls her eyes fondly and turns to Hope. “Where do you want to start?” she asks, a little shyly.

“You choose?” Hope says. She waves at Sif and Melinda a bit frantically, calling, “Hey! I made it.”

Sif glances over and waves back, smiling. “Good to see you!” she calls. Melinda nods a greeting.

“So?” Hope asks Wanda.

Wanda tilts her head, thinking. “Red,” she decides. “Red is my favorite color.”

“Red,” Hope repeats. “That sounds really nice.”  She grins.

Wanda smiles. “Thank you for inviting us, by the way. It’s...it seems really nice.”

“Yeah!” Hope exclaims. “I mean. I thought… it seemed like a cool thing to do, and Sif’s been really excited about it, so…”

Wanda nods, grabbing paintbrushes and tiny paint cans for them both and offering one of each to Hope. “Funny that they picked this month to do it,” she says with a giggle.

“Apparently it was an accident?” Hope says, delighted. “I don’t think Thor’s dad knows what he’s unleashed, or whatever.”

“That’s funny.” Wanda grins. “I mean, I’ve never been to Pride, but I’ve known what it is.”

“Yeah,” Hope agrees. “Same. I never… I don’t know, I guess I never felt right about it before?”

Wanda shrugs. “It seemed like something I probably wouldn’t enjoy. Too loud, too chaotic. I don’t even like when the mall is too crowded. But this is okay.” She smiles at Hope. “This is nice.”

“It is,” Hope echoes. “Really just… relaxed.”

Lowering herself to the ground carefully, Wanda starts fussing with the lid on her can. “These are impossible,” she sighs.

“I had to help my old roommate’s friend paint some backdrop for some stupid movie he was making one time, and nobody could get them open,” Hope nods. “We eventually resorted to using actual tools to pry them.”

“Oh my,” says Wanda, eyes wide. “I wonder if they have some here?” She glances around. “I feel like a weakling for asking, but it’s hard.”

“You’re not,” Hope says immediately. “Let me go ask Thor?” She hops up and jogs off, wearing a concerned frown.

Wanda blinks. “Okay!” she calls, not bothered but a little surprised.

“Look who’s here,” Raina croons, sauntering up. Unlike usual, today’s flower dress looks like it was found on a rack at Goodwill and is stretchy cotton that just screams 90s.  “I’m proud, you turned up without my even having to suggest it.”

Chuckling, Wanda says, “Hope invited me. I guess her coworkers invited her.”

“Not surprised,” Raina hums, though which part of the statement isn’t surprising is unclear.

“And you? This hardly seems like your scene,” teases Wanda.

“You forget my Norse British sex goddess,” Raina says with a smirk. Indeed, Lorelei (wearing what looks more appropriate for a car wash) is making herself comfortable painting part of the yellow stripe.

“Ah.” Wanda nods. “Well, you two have...fun?” It’s not quite a question.

“I’m going to paint a flower garden and nobody can stop me,” Raina giggles, practically skipping off to a far corner of the plaza.

Smiling, Wanda glances around, still waiting for Hope to come back. Most people are busy painting and chatting, but she spots Loki leaning against the side of the building, slouched over and pouting. That makes her laugh again, even though it shouldn’t, and she tries to stifle it without much success.

“What’s up?” Hope asks, returning with a flathead screwdriver in hand.

“Oh, I just noticed Thor’s brother sulking over there,” giggles Wanda. “It’s not nice of me, but he said some terrible things when Pietro and I were at Thor and Jane’s apartment for a dinner party. So I don’t feel that bad laughing at him.”

Hope nods. “He doesn’t seem nice or good at all,” she says, frowning.

“Not really,” agrees Wanda. “Anyway. Thank you for that.” She nods at the screwdriver. “You didn’t have to.”

“It makes it easier,” Hope shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Wanda takes the screwdriver and pries the lid off her paint can, then says, “I can do yours too, if you’d like.”

“Oh!” Hope giggles. “Yeah, sure!” She edges the paint can over, grinning.

Wanda slides it back after a bit of fussing, then settles in with her legs folded off to one side and starts to carefully paint. “I don’t like kneeling,” she explains, “it’s uncomfortable.”

“Makes sense,” Hope nods. “And kneeling on pavement gets your knees all… prickly.”  She makes a face.

Chuckling, Wanda nods. “Yes. And I don’t normally wear pants anyway, so.”

They both fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, focused on painting, until Wanda hears Fandral say to someone, “So, what brings _you_ here today?”

She snorts, rolls her eyes, and can’t help but glance over to see who he’s chatting up now. She’s a pretty short-haired woman who looks like she’s not even remotely buying any of it. “I really fucking love rainbows,” she deadpans.

“Oh yeah? You know, I’m friends with one of the owners,” Fandral boasts. “I can get access to the observatory in Jump City anytime I like. Are you interested in astronomy?”

“You’re friends with an older-than-middle-aged man?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and very decidedly ignoring the second part.

Fandral shrugs. “Well, with his son. I have an in, either way.”

She makes a face. “I’m not really inclined.”

“Well, how are you inclined? I’m flexible.”

“I really doubt you’re flexible enough to bend how I’m inclined,” she says flatly.

“You’d be surprised,” he says, smirking.

“Can you bend yourself into a girl?”

He looks a bit startled. “Ah…”

She grins, gives him a little salute, and goes to join the people working on the orange stripe very far away from him.

Wanda giggles. “Seems like Fandral’s at the wrong place,” she says to Hope.

“He’s usually at the wrong place,” Hope declares.

“That’s true.”

 

* * *

 

“You’ve got company,” Lorelei announces. She’s currently perched on a low wall watching Raina paint flowers.

Raina glances up, amused. First she sees Kara, who she waves over for a kiss, but then she notices a sizable group of others behind her and says, “Dare I ask?”

Hogun shrugs. “I came to add something to your section, if that’s all right. Symbols of good fortune.”

Raina’s eyes light up. “Such as?”

“I thought a koi for strength and perseverance in adversity, and a frog, which is thought to bring back fortune and wealth.” Hogun smirks. “Maybe a crane as well, but I’m not an artist.”

“That’s lovely,” Raina says.  “Have at, I say.”

“I’m just looking for someplace to hide out from my marauding fuck buddy,” Linnea sighs, sitting down with her back to the wall.

“No marauding here,” Raina promises.

Skye wanders over, holding her phone. “I texted Jiaying asking if she knows any Chinese blessings or symbols and she said something about a bat flying upside down and that it’s the same word for ‘bat’ as ‘good fortune’, I guess Chinese people like puns too.” She grins. “So if it’s okay, can I paint that?”

Raina giggles. “Of course it’s okay.”

“Odin knew not what he was bringing on himself,” Lorelei says with a playful sigh.

Hogun laughs. “He often doesn’t.”

“Ooh,” Kara says, “can I do a cactus? It’s a Greek thing.”

“Charming,” Raina agrees. “Everyone, please don’t let me stall you.”

“Cool!” Skye goes to retrieve black paint.

“Oh my god,” Bobbi drawls, coming over. “Someone needs to get that idiot child to sit down and shut up.”

“I call not it,” Linnea says. “Assuming the idiot child you mean.”

Heimdall, who is painting nearby, chuckles. “I’ll give him a talking-to in a bit. Not that I think he’ll listen.”

Everyone works quietly for a few minutes until Raina gets up to switch paintbrushes and notices Loki… apparently painting an already dark square of concrete black.  “He’s been at it today,” she drawls.

“Who, Loki?” Skye asks. “What’s he been doing? I’ll kick his ass!”

Raina smiles coyly. “No, he’s just been painting that same square over and over,” she says, nodding. “I think he thinks it’s a protest against something.”

“Happiness,” Lorelei snarks, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, good.” Skye calms down a little and goes back to painting.

Sif walks by, swinging an empty can from one finger, and Hogun calls, “Sif, you don’t know what Loki is doing, do you?”

Sif stops and snorts. “Please. I’ve known him since we were toddlers and I never know what he’s doing.”

Lorelei laughs. “I can’t imagine this is his favorite of things,” she says.

“No. I suspect he objected to the lack of black and grey, he would argue they’re inherently symbolic,” says Sif.

Kara makes a face. “Cement is already grey,” she points out.

Shrugging, Sif replies, “I find pointing out flaws in his logic rarely works.”

Meanwhile, Fandral seems to have found another target to annoy, who looks even less amused, if it’s possible. “Is this something you do often?” she asks, glaring at him.

“Talking to beautiful women?” Fandral asks. “And if I do? Annabelle, was it?”

Maybe-Annabelle just continues glaring. “Then you should take a course in people skills. Here’s a freebie.” She flips him off and walks away.

Sif laughs at that before continuing on her way to get more paint.

Wanda comes over, Hope behind her, looking curious. “What’s all this?” she asks Raina.

“I started with flowers and now people are adding blessings and the like,” Raina explains, clearly pleased. “An oddball garden of goodwill, or something.”

“That’s beautiful,” Wanda says, as if she’s thinking about something. “Could I add something?”

“Of course!” Raina says. “Did you bring your own paint? I have extra cans lined up, too.”

Wanda laughs. “I have a little left of this?” She holds up her red paint.

“If that’s what you want to use, be my guest,” Raina declares. She glances around at the others, all working away, and smirks. “I really don’t know how I ended up the arbiter of this corner, but I’m all right with it.”

“It seems to be working out all right,” says Wanda with a smile. “Is there any blue?”

Raina nods, waving in the appropriate direction. “Take as much as you like.”

 

* * *

 

“Far more people showed up than I expected,” muses Odin, frowning in confusion as he surveys the scene in the plaza, several stories below. “Thor must have been very persuasive.”

Frigga glances down. A not-insignificant amount of young people have showed up, it’s true; technically this is a company event, but most of the company involvement is people’s children. She sees most all of Thor’s friends in the crowd, she sees the Fitz boy and the Simmons girl with some of their somebodies (it reminds her to pay a call on their parents, see how things are in design and manufacturing and HR, because she knows her husband won’t), she sees all manner of young adults happily painting the giant rainbow and all sorts of other things.

Most of them are wearing rainbows, too, which makes her smile. Her husband’s idea was very nice, but he didn’t stop to think about the implications and she’s not about to clue him in. “I think it was a popular idea for a lot of reasons,” she says instead, trying not to laugh.

He shrugs. “Well, it’s coming along very nicely. And Thor seems to be running things well. I should talk to him again about applying for a position here, he knows he’d be guaranteed the job.”

She could say to him that she knows their son will always choose to forge his own path, but there is little point.  Instead she says, “I think we’re going to have the friendliest plaza in town.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m gonna get water,” Hope says cheerfully. “Maybe some of Volstagg’s rainbow cookies. Do you want anything?”

“A cookie sounds nice,” Wanda replies, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” Hope agrees. “Back in a sec.” She jogs off toward the refreshments.

Wanda stares after her for a minute, then goes over to Raina and says quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s going on?” Raina asks, even though she thinks she knows.

Swallowing, Wanda pauses before asking, all in a rush, “How do you know if someone has feelings for you?”

“She does,” Raina says without missing a beat.

“Oh.” Wanda fiddles with the bottom of her shirt. “Is it obvious? I mean, am I obvious?”

“You’re obvious to me, because I know you,” Raina shrugs.

Wanda laughs nervously. “That’s not very helpful.”

“I’m sorry,” Raina says, and she sounds like she actually means it. “I’m going to say you’re not so obvious you’re deterring her, and you’re also not so obvious she’s entirely picked up on the extent of your feelings.  Probably.”

“Good.” Wanda licks her lips. “I, I’m not sure what to do. I read some advice on flirting but some of it seemed to be crossing the line of personal boundaries.”

“Cookies!” Hope calls, reappearing. “I brought a few extra. Any takers?”

Lorelei nods, holding a hand out. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Wanda takes one with a smile. “Thank you, Hope.”

“You’re welcome!” Hope replies brightly. “What’re you painting?”

“Oh, it’s a hamsa,” says Wanda, scooting back a bit so Hope can see it more clearly. “It’s an open right hand, meant to be a symbol of protection. It’s Jewish, but also from certain Middle Eastern cultures. And I’m inscribing the inscription that’s on the back of the charm my parents hung in our home, which means ‘good luck’.”

“That’s really cool,” Hope murmurs, grinning. “Gosh, all of this is so…”

“Yes,” Raina chimes in. “Isn’t it?”

\---

“I’d say we did good work,” says Sif, standing up to dust off her hands.

Melinda nods. “It looks good.” She smiles. “Thanks, this was a nice change from the usual.”

“I know it was sort of an odd date,” Sif replies, almost apologetically, “but I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did.” Melinda grabs her hand casually. “And it’s not like it has to _keep_ being a change from the usual,” she adds, eyes gleaming.

“ _Oh_ ,” says Sif, grinning. “Back to mine for a shower, then?”

“A long one,” says Melinda, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/dd/HamsaS.jpg) is the inscription Wanda refers to.


	98. it's all so simple when you break it all down, two roads converged down on a hallowed ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda asks Raina for romantic advice, which Raina is more than happy to provide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Raina teaches Wanda how to kiss and has some frank discussions with her about sex. It's not particularly sexual, but if that's a dynamic that bothers you, you should stop after the first section break and then start again when Wanda mentions Olive Garden.

“So,” Raina says, sipping her milkshake, “I can’t help but notice we’re alone this lunch hour. What’s up?”

Wanda shrugs. “I, um, I had something to ask you.”

Raina tilts her head. “Is this about that thing we were talking about at the rainbow party?”

Chuckling nervously, Wanda says, “Yes, I...you’ve dated girls, yes? Been on actual dates with them?”

“Technically,” Raina says.

“What is kissing like?” Wanda asks, sort of quietly.

“I take it you have a reason for wondering,” Raina murmurs.

Wanda laughs. “Yes. I’m not sure - I went to prom with Hope, and I think she likes me, and I think I like her, but now I’m not sure what to do.”

Raina hums thoughtfully. “This is a new thing for you?”

Squirming a bit, Wanda says, “It’s not...I didn’t care much before. I read some articles on kissing but I’m not sure they were very helpful.”

“They usually aren’t,” Raina agrees. “Can I ask exactly… what the attraction is, specifically?”

“I like talking to her,” says Wanda. “I like listening to her talk about running and school and other things. I like her smile and her eyes. At _Fury Road_ she was…” She trails off, afraid to sound shallow. “She’s nice to be around,” she finishes awkwardly, shrugging again.

“That’s a nice list,” Raina says. “Do you know if she’s done this before?”

“We haven’t really talked about it. I wasn’t sure how to ask.”

“She’s young, though, right?” Raina asks. “So it’s a pretty fair bet she hasn’t.”

“She’s a sophomore? I know she’s not legal drinking age yet. She told me about how her bartender friend Luke won’t sell her drinks.” Wanda grins. “But he lets her stay in his bar and gives her soda instead.”

“That’s charming,” Raina croons. “She seems to inspire attachment.”

Smiling, Wanda replies, “I guess she does. She hasn’t mentioned anyone she’s been with before, though.”

“So you want to make sure you’re doing whatever you’re doing right for her sake,” Raina supplies.

“Yes, I think so,” says Wanda. “I suppose I don’t want to get it...wrong?”

“Makes sense,” Raina says. “I could teach you how to kiss, at least.”

Wanda’s mouth drops open for a second before she shuts it, eyes wide. Flushing, she stammers, “C-could you?”

“Of course,” Raina shrugs. “What are friends for?”

“I don’t know of many friends who teach their friends to kiss,” Wanda says, tilting her head.

“Then you’ve had different kinds of friends than I have,” Raina says.

That makes Wanda laugh. “I guess so. Um, how…?”

“The easiest thing to do would be to have you over for dinner-and-a-makeout,” Raina declares.

“You sound so matter-of-fact about it,” giggles Wanda. “Do you do this often?”

“Most of my friends don’t need to be taught,” Raina points out.

“Oh,” says Wanda, grinning, “I guess that’s true.”

“So you game for it?”

Wanda nods, slowly at first but then more confidently. “Thank you, I - I think that will help.”

 

* * *

 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Wanda says before taking another bite of her cheesecake. “Dessert and all, I mean.”

“Figured I should at least pretend my dates are classy,” Raina smirks.

Wanda laughs and asks, “What do you usually do on dates?”

“It really depends,” Raina says. “Now that I think about it, one constant is making fun of boys.”

“That sounds fun,” says Wanda, smirking, “but maybe not like a date? At least, not what I’ve read dates are like.”

“What have you read, then?” Raina asks.

“Just articles, mostly. I had subscriptions to magazines for girls when I was younger because I thought it might help.” Wanda shrugs. “They mentioned things like movies, dinner, going ice skating. I thought the last one sounded unpleasant, but I don’t like how ice skates feel so that probably wasn’t for me anyway.”

“Ice skating is overrated,” Raina says. “I think half the reason they suggest that is to give girls an excuse to grab boys’ arms. Also horror movies.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose. “I always thought that was silly.”

“It’s hilarious bullshit, honestly,” Raina says. “Which you conveniently get to avoid.”

“I guess I do. What else do you do on dates?”

“You’re supposed to talk about things you like, which is supposed to be a way for girls to fawn over boys,” Raina says. “It can also be fun to talk about things you don’t like, which accounts for making fun of boys like I said earlier. This is just like the rest of the time. Bonding, or something.”

“That makes sense.” Wanda nods. “But I meant, what do _you_ do on dates?”

“Make sure beforehand that I look hot and inform my date that they do as well.”

Giggling, Wanda says, “I’m not sure I should do that. She might find it odd.”

“You don’t have to say _hot_ ,” Raina points out. “Tamer synonyms work too.”

“I could try it,” Wanda replies doubtfully.

“Or not,” Raina sighs. “Compliments in general are good, but you don’t want to lay them on too heavy.”

Wanda nods again. “I thought so, but thank you. I don’t want to seem...pushy.”

“No,” Raina agrees. “Whatever you’re doing seems to be working, anyway.”

“If you say so,” says Wanda. “I’m not sure.”

“How did you two meet, anyway?” Raina asks. “I managed to miss it.”

“I was her Secret Santa, but we didn’t really talk until Tony’s paintball game. I found her hiding on top of a shipping container and helped her get to safety. She wasn’t very good at it,” Wanda adds with a fond smile. “It was cute.”

“Did you defend her?” Raina presses.

“Of course.” Wanda raises an eyebrow. “It was the right thing to do, even if she wasn’t…” She blushes.

“Wasn’t?” Raina coaxes.

Wanda shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s...special.”

“Look at you,” Raina exclaims. “All blushing and shy.”

Wanda chuckles nervously. “I’m just trying to figure it out. I want to be...good for her.”

“You’re adorable,” Raina says. She takes a sip of her water. “I’m pretty sure your definitions of good for are different than mine.”

“Probably,” agrees Wanda with a grin. “What...what does it mean to you?”

“Different things for different people, really,” Raina shrugs. “But my situations are… well, different.”

“How?”

“Well, Lorelei and I are basically best friends who have mutually beneficial sex regularly,” Raina says casually. “I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon. Kara is a very good friend who isn’t going to have sex with me forever, because there are other suitors in the mix, but right now I’m reminding her what a good physical relationship can be like because she needs it.”

Cocking her head, Wanda says, “Interesting. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Neither relationship has complications, because Lorelei doesn’t like them and Kara doesn’t need them,” Raina continues. “I don’t really like them either, to be honest. You, your girl… that’s a different matter.”

“I guess,” replies Wanda. “So neither of them will mind you teaching me?”

“Oh, no,” Raina laughs. “If either of them knew I think they’d find it charming, but it’s not for telling, probably.”

Wanda smiles. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

“So,” Raina says broadly. “How do you want to do this?”

“I thought you had an idea of what to do,” Wanda giggles, a bit nervous.

“Well, I mean... “ Raina shrugs. “How far do you want to go?”

“How far _can_ you go? I know there are bases. I don’t really understand that metaphor, to be honest.”

“The bases are irrelevant,” Raina declares. “Let me just… do you want me to write it down, too?”

Wanda nods. “That might help, yes. I know _of_ a lot of things you can do, but it’s...there are a lot.”

Raina smiles and jumps up to get a piece of paper and a pen (red ink with a big fake flower floral-taped to the top). “Let’s do categories,” she says. “It’s not the easy progression some people would want to make it, exactly.” She makes four different boxes: KISSING, TOUCHING, SEX ACTS, KINK. “Some people feel ready to try, say, a little light bondage before they’ve even gotten close to having sex, so.”

“Interesting,” says Wanda, nodding slowly. “I knew it was complicated, but not this complicated. I suppose you should talk about it with someone before you do anything?”

“Good bet,” Raina says. “A lot of people, especially ones with relative inexperience, usually go for easing into it, but that’s different things for different people.”

“Yes. I don’t plan on moving quickly. I never have.” Wanda laughs.

“So we’ll start in kissing and touching,” Raina decides. She writes _kissing (cheek), kissing (mouth), kissing (French), kissing (neck),_ and _kissing (intimate)_ , then _holding hands, hugging, cuddling, spooning_ , and _groping_. “Questions?”

“I don’t think so. That seems straightforward.”

“All right,” Raina says. “Well. Where do you want to start, then?”

“I guess kissing on the mouth? We held hands at prom, sort of, when we were dancing.” Shrugging, Wanda adds, “I don’t really know what counts and what doesn’t.”

“That’s pretty close, anyway,” Raina declares. “Holding hands is easy. Kissing… let’s retire to the living room, okay?”

Nodding, Wanda stands. “Thank you again,” she says, a little shyly.

Raina gathers up her paper and pen, then ushers Wanda toward her couch. “Come sit by me,” she suggests.

Wanda does, shifting awkwardly. “Like this?”

“Just like,” Raina agrees, wrapping one arm around Wanda’s shoulders.

“Should I do that too?” asks Wanda. “I know sometimes people do.”

“If it feels right,” Raina says.

“I’ll try it,” says Wanda, mirroring Raina’s position.

They’re operating implicitly by now, so Raina reaches up to hold Wanda’s face with her other hand and leans in to kiss her slowly. Wanda closes her eyes and kisses back, still hesitant. Then she pulls back and says, “What, um, what am I supposed to be doing?”

“What feels right?” Raina asks. This seems to be a theme.

Shrugging, Wanda says, “I guess I should kiss you back. Sometimes people move their heads around?”

Raina laughs. She can’t help it. “Try it, then,” she suggests.

Wanda giggles too, and leans back in to try kissing her again, experimenting with moving her head around a bit and kissing for shorter amounts of time repeatedly. “I guess that’s nice,” she says. “I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t…”

“Isn’t?”

“Uncomfortable? Because I’m not very good?”

“You’re learning,” Raina points out. “You’re doing very well. Especially since I know I’m not going to be able to ask you to stop overthinking it.”

“Probably not,” says Wanda with a laugh. “Thank you. Um, more now, or something else?”

Instead of answering with words, Raina leans in to kiss Wanda again, this time slipping her some tongue. This is a nice activity, but it sounds stupid in words in her head, so she’s not going to ruin the moment by saying it out loud.

Wanda’s a little surprised, but hums and opens her mouth. She’s always thought French kissing sounded odd, but it’s worth trying anyway. Raina smiles, threading fingers through Wanda’s hair curiously; Wanda makes a happy sound and tries to bump against her fingers. After a minute or so, she ends the kiss and says, “Is that something you do too? Touching the other person’s hair?”

“It can be,” Raina shrugs. “I’m guessing you liked it.”

Wanda nods, flushing. “I always liked it when my mother brushed my hair, but nobody has in...a while.”

“It’s a nice feeling,” Raina agrees softly. “Some people like pulling on hair, too.”

“I don’t think I’d like that, but that’s interesting.” Wanda reaches to play with the bottom of her shirt. “Can I...can I try tongue with you? How do I do it?”

“It’s a sensation thing,” Raina explains, nodding. “The traditional trick is you’re supposed to spell the alphabet with your tongue in the other person’s mouth, but it doesn’t have to be that specific.”

“That sounds a little silly,” says Wanda, but she leans in to gently flick her tongue into Raina’s mouth.

Raina hums her approval and lets her hand slide down Wanda’s neck and spine. “Yeah,” she encourages softly.

Wanda’s not expecting the hand on her back, so she starts a little, but then she relaxes and licks into Raina’s mouth curiously. Raina starts gently stroking down Wanda’s torso, just lightly, almost contemplatively, but until asked she’s going to let Wanda steer the kiss.

Wanda keeps it fairly low-key, just testing out different things with her tongue for a minute or two, and then she pulls back to say, “I’m not sure if any of that was any good?”

“No, it was,” Raina agrees. “Good intuition.”

Smiling, Wanda ducks her head. “Thanks. It’s still kind of odd, but I think I could get used to it.”

“Good,” Raina says brightly. “Would you like to try anything else? Now’s the time.”

“Like what? The parts you didn’t write down yet?”

Raina shrugs. “Or kissing in other places,” she says. “The fuzzy middle grounds.”

Wanda tilts her head. “I don’t understand, I’m sorry.”

“Could I show you?” Raina asks.

“Maybe tell me first? So I know what you’re going to do?”

“Could I kiss your neck?” Raina whispers.

“Oh, yes, that sounds nice.” Wanda brushes her hair to one side of her neck. “Does that help?”

Raina nods. “Tell me if you like this,” she murmurs, moving in to gently kiss, nip, and suck on Wanda’s neck.

Wanda whimpers, which she wasn’t expecting, and that makes her murmur, “Oh…” But she tilts her head back to give Raina better access.

That makes Raina smile. “Good,” she says softly, working her way across Wanda’s skin and holding her close but not too tight.

“That’s...that’s really nice,” mumbles Wanda.

Wanda’s being so sweet it’s a little shocking, honestly, and Raina shrugs self-effacingly. “What if I were to kiss a bit lower?” she asks.

“Okay,” says Wanda. “I don’t...I don’t think I want to take off my shirt though.”

“That’s fine,” Raina says. “Just…” Raina trails her lips over Wanda’s collarbone, then looks up at her curiously.

“That was nice,” says Wanda. “Kind of tickled a little.”

“Hopefully you and Hope will be able to giggle about things like that,” Raina says. “Sex and kissing can be much funnier than people admit.”

“Really?” Wanda blinks. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Raina chuckles. “Bodies make funny noises, it can tickle like you say, sometimes if you’re trying to be smooth you just sound goofy. All sorts of stuff like that.”

“That makes sense.” Wanda pauses, as if thinking, then adds, “Can I ask you some questions even if I don’t want to do any more tonight? About sex, I mean?”

“Of course,” Raina nods, withdrawing and leaning back against the arm of the couch.

“Okay. I mean I’m just - I’m not sure what to do,” says Wanda.

“Well, in what way?”

Wanda shrugs. “I know the descriptions of the acts because I read them, but I don’t actually know how to do cunnilingus. Or fingering. Or some of the other things.”

“Ah.” Raina tilts her head. “Can I ask if you’ve ever gotten yourself off?”

“A few times. It’s okay. I don’t have a vibrator, if that’s what you mean.” Wanda grins sheepishly. “I tried an electric toothbrush once and that was very unpleasant.”

Raina grimaces. “Yeah, that’s a better idea in theory than in practice. I was actually wondering about doing it manually, though, because fingering is sort of the same thing.”

“Oh. That makes sense. I haven’t done that much, just rubbing mostly. I get bored in the middle sometimes when I try.”

“Honestly?” Raina smirks. “Sometimes just rubbing is a better way to get off. Some girls don’t even like penetration.”

“I guess that’s another one of those things you have to ask about,” says Wanda. “And cunnilingus?”

“Same insofar as sometimes focusing mostly on the clitoris is the best idea,” Raina says. “Apparently it’s the same alphabet technique, allegedly, but I always try to be aware of what my partner is telling me, either with their words or just with their body. Unless she’s really shy, she’s going to let you know what works.”

Wanda nods and says, “That’s good. I don’t think she’s that shy,” she says with a laugh. “What about strap-ons?”

“Those… are kind of a matter of preference,” Raina says hesitantly. “Some girls love it. Some girls don’t see the point. If she’s not into penetration, you won’t need to worry about it. If she is? Honestly, practice makes better.”

“Okay. I might have to ask you about it again later,” Wanda says.

“Any time,” Raina replies. “Literally. You know I keep odd hours.”

Smiling, Wanda replies, “Good to know. Thank you, I...I feel a little better now.”

“Good,” Raina smiles. “You sure there’s nothing else?”

Wanda thinks a minute, then shakes her head. “Not right now. I might text you later if I think of something else.”

“That’s fine,” Raina says. “Always glad to help.”

 

* * *

 

“Whenever I think of Olive Garden now, I think of the breadstick jokes on tumblr,” remarks Wanda, swirling some pasta onto her fork.

“Where they stuff them in their purse, right?” Hope asks.

“Yes, on bad dates usually.” Wanda giggles. “I mean, this isn’t a bad date, but I just thought of it.”

Hope smiles shyly. “This is a pretty good date, I think,” she murmurs.

“Good,” says Wanda, smiling back. “I’m not very good at conversation, though. I’m sorry about that.”

“I think you’re fine,” Hope says encouragingly. “You’re not trying too hard, which is nice.”

“I’m glad you think so,” says Wanda, fidgeting with her fork. “Um, how is work?”

“Work is good,” Hope shrugs. “It’s weird, because I understand the advantages of those barefoot shoes, you know, the ones that are like gloves for your feet, but they just weird me out at the same time. Really popular, though.” She blushes a little, realizing she’s been rambling.

Wanda smiles. “I think those are so weird. They don’t seem comfortable at all. And I wouldn’t like the feeling of my toes being separated.”

“I guess it’s supposed to be… natural?” Hope proposes, frowning. “I don’t like running barefoot, though. Shoes help lessen the impact.”

“That makes sense,” muses Wanda. “Do you just not like the feeling or does it actually hurt?”

“It might just be that I’m used to running with shoes on, so now it feels strange if I try to… not,” Hope says. “But there’s shock absorption with normal shoes. It’s really hard for me to think about doing without.”

Wanda nods. “I see. Sorry, I don’t know much about running.”

“No, it’s okay!” Hope exclaims. “It’s not the most interesting subject to talk about, so.”

“But you like it,” says Wanda, “so I like hearing you talk about it.” She feels her face get hot.

“Oh!” Hope exclaims. “That’s… you’re sweet.”

Wanda shrugs. “Aren’t you supposed to like hearing your date talk about things they like? I might be doing it wrong, I haven’t been on other dates really.”

“I dunno,” Hope admits. “I know you’re supposed to listen really attentively to your boyfriend, if you have one, but it doesn’t usually talk about the other way around. Or if… y’know.”

Wrinkling her nose, Wanda says, “I’m sure there must be nice things about dating boys, but most things I read just make it sound miserable.”

“I think the formula makes it sound worse than it is,” Hope sighs. “I mean, Darcy, she’s… kind of with Ian, and that’s okay, but then that’s Ian.”

“Ian’s different,” Wanda agrees. “Also I think if he tried to be rude to her at all she would eviscerate him, which he knows.”

“She’s kinda good at that,” Hope agrees. “Totally wasn’t why I agreed to room with her after Jane moved out, but, y’know, it helps.”

Wanda snickers. “I’m sure it does. She must be a fun roommate.”

“She is, usually,” Hope says. “Usually she gives me enough warning when she’s… having someone over.” She makes a face to indicate what this really means.

“Oh dear,” says Wanda with another giggle. “I hope it’s not too much of a problem?”

“Nah,” Hope shrugs. “Occasionally I’ve employed noise-canceling headphones, but that’s not a big deal. I’d have to with my old roommate too.”

“I’m glad I just live with my brother, who never has anybody ever,” says Wanda with a grin. “I mean, he does, but not that way.”

Hope nods. “I’m used to it by now,” she says. “I think it’s just… a growing up thing. A weird one, but still.”

“I guess,” says Wanda with a shrug of her own. “I find it all kind of weird, and interesting. I’ve been doing research on sexuality because I want to understand it.”

“Oh?” Hope murmurs, not sure how to take that.

“I didn’t think about it much before,” explains Wanda, a little shy. “It was all too abstract. I didn’t feel the ways I was supposed to about boys, or girls really, so I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” says Hope. “I just… I don’t know. I never really had time, I guess.”

“Well…” Wanda pauses, then swallows as if she’s nervous. “Thanks for making time for me?” Then she giggles. “I’m sorry, that was terrible.”

“Hey, I’m okay with it,” she says, reaching across the table for Wanda’s hand with a curious expression.

Wanda moves her hand closer. “Good,” she says. “I, um, I asked my friend about how to date and she said compliments were good, so. I like your eyes.”

Hope giggles. “Thank you,” she says. “Yours are nice too. All… sparkly.”

Grinning, Wanda ducks her head before looking back at Hope. “Thanks to you too,” she says.

“You should come running with me sometime,” Hope says suddenly.

“Oh!” says Wanda, a little startled by the sudden change in topic. “Yes, I...I’d like that. That’d be nice. I haven’t done it much, but...yes.”

“It’d be fun,” Hope says. “I could show you the, the trails I like best.”

“I’d like that.” Then Wanda frowns slightly. “What should I wear? I know you have special gear for it.”

“We can figure it out,” Hope declares.


	99. come in close now it's time to tell the story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria gives the new security guard, Tegan Piper, a tour of the mall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Agent Piper from 3x19? She's ours now. We named her Tegan because she looks uncannily like Tegan Quin, and also what else are we supposed to name a baby lesbian?
> 
> Also, in case you weren't aware, [here](http://mallversemcu.tumblr.com/post/138945171954/a-roughly-accurate-mall-map) is a vague map of the mall as it currently stands.

Maria knew this was supposed to be the new girl’s first day on the job, so she’s planned to get in a little early to prepare. What she didn’t realize was that New Girl would be so _perky_ about it.

She’s sitting outside the security office grinning and sipping her coffee (three other cups sit in a beverage carrier beside her, all with different notes scribbled on the sides) and when Maria gets close enough, she calls out, “Hi!”

Maria blinks. “Uh, hi,” she says. “You’re Tegan Piper?” Fury and Coulson had been in charge of interviewing her, so Maria’s only seen her resume.

She nods. “Maria, right? Officer Hill?”

“Yup,” says Maria. “I see you brought, uh, coffee.”

“Yeah. I guess Fury and Coulson get third and fourth pick,” Tegan chuckles.

“Guess so.” Maria grabs the one with _black_ written on the side and takes a sip. “Thanks.”

“Of course!” Tegan chirps. “Having a good morning?”

Maria shrugs. “My girlfriend slept over last night, so sure. It’s going okay so far. You?”

Tegan laughs. “Currently between girlfriends, so nothing that awesome yet.”

“Shame.” Maria smirks. “You ready to get started or you need a couple minutes?”

“I could get started!” Tegan declares. “Let me just put my stuff away and I’m so ready.”

Maria unlocks the security office, nodding towards the back. “Lockers in the back room, go ahead and pick any of the open ones. There aren’t too many of us, so you shouldn’t have a problem finding one. If you’ve got a lunch, the fridge is in the next room over.”

Tegan nods and scurries off (after setting the coffees down). Soon she’s returning, saying, “Are there going to be wacky first-day adventures or something?”

That’s so unexpected Maria laughs. “If by ‘wacky first-day adventures’ you mean ‘walking around the mall and learning the layout,’ sure.”

“Wacky enough,” Tegan says with a cheerful shrug. “The guys warned me it could get weird.”

“Might,” agrees Maria. “Depends on how people decide to behave today. You won’t have to do any of the hard stuff yet, though. Just observation for now. C’mon, let’s get started.”

“Okay!” Tegan says, taking one last sip of coffee.

Maria steps out of the office, Tegan on her heels like an excited puppy (which is a little weird, but Maria’s not going to dwell on that). “So,” she begins, “Big 5 is to our right, and we don’t tend to have as many issues there, but occasionally something goes down. Melinda’s the manager you’ll probably be dealing with the most, she pretty much takes no shit. She’s cool.”

“Yeah, I think I heard about her,” Tegan nods. “Badass extraordinaire, or something.”

“She really is,” agrees Maria. “Not as scary as she seems, either.” She gestures further to the right, adding, “That’s Kohl’s over there. You won’t have to worry too much about that, because they’ve got their own security team, but if they call for backup, we’re the backup. The bookstore over there is pretty quiet, so is Teavana. Rosalind’s the head manager there, and she is…” She trails off with a snort. “Interesting.”

“Interesting in a way we’ll have to deal with?” Tegan asks.

Maria shakes her head. “She has her own way of doing things. She and Coulson are involved, so don’t react if you see anything. She likes it when people freak out about them.”

“Oh,” Tegan says. “Seeing… what would I see that I might otherwise freak out about? So I know and don’t freak out.”

“How familiar are you with BDSM?” Maria asks bluntly. “Something like that.”

“I’m not entirely unfamiliar,” Tegan shrugs. “But, good to know. I mean, power to them, if it works. I just didn’t want to be expecting one thing that wouldn’t surprise me and not what would happen.”

“Yeah.” Maria shrugs. “It’s honestly better if you just ignore it.” Then she turns toward Sephora. “We do have some issues with Sephora, because there are a lot of small expensive products in high demand. Also, Bucky, who works there, has mental health accommodations so be aware of that. Really nice guy, won’t cause problems, but we look out for him.”

Tegan nods, expression cartoonishly solemn. “Of course,” she says, “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Maria chuckles and says, “Good.” She sets off again, calling, “Food court’s over there, we get a discount, just flash your badge. Foot Locker, Build-a-Bear, Candy Tyme, Torrid, Kay. Victoria at Kay is who you’ll want to talk to if there’s an issue there. Very thorough and no-nonsense.”

“So the opposite of her product,” Tegan quips.

Snorting, Maria nods. “Pretty much. She’s well aware of the irony. But hey, she should know about selling rings to couples, she and her wife just got married earlier this year. One of the few in this place who’ve actually settled down.”

“Aw, that’s nice,” Tegan says. “Gives the rest of us lonelyhearted lesbians - et al - hope.”

Laughing, Maria agrees, “They’re cute as hell, but don’t tell her, she hates admitting it.” She gestures toward the watch store and the Lego Store in the corner, continuing, “Those two have issues sometimes, so you should know where they are. Oh, and Sharper Image and Excalibur on the other side. Hope’s at Sharper Image, god willing you get her if there’s an issue and not Tony Stark.”

“Tony Stark as in…?”

“Yup,“ says Maria. “That one. He’s basically here because Daddy thought he needed to learn a lesson about responsibility. It’s been almost two years, so I guess he’s a slow learner. He will probably try and hit on you at least once.”

“Even if I tell him I’m not interested?”

“Yup. I’d get good at snappy comebacks if you aren’t already. He won’t actually do any more than be annoying, but just so you know.”

“Appreciated,” Tegan says. “There a lot of that around here?”

“Fandral, who works at A&F,” replies Maria with a roll of her eyes. “Again, just annoying mostly, but work on your comebacks.”

“And ‘I don’t like guys’ isn’t one they listen to,” Tegan supposes.

“Not in my experience,” sighs Maria.

“Alas,” Tegan sighs. “But that aside, this seems like a decent queer community?”

Maria nods. “We look after each other. I guess I should take this opportunity to warn you about the white supremacist gang over at IKEA.”

“Oh, geez,” Tegan says. “I’ve heard the rumors, but I didn’t want to think they were true.”

“Sorry,” says Maria, wincing. “Good news is, they’re not allowed in this mall at all. There was...an incident not too long ago and the owner of the place banned them. If you see someone in an IKEA shirt, walkie one of us and describe them. We’ve got a list of known Hydra members, we’ll get you backup if you need it. You also may see a tattoo that looks like an octopus - I’ll show you a picture back at the office.”

Tegan nods, making a face. “It’s like the worst Where’s Waldo ever.”

“Something like that,” says Maria with a chuckle. “We haven’t had any issues in a couple months, but just be aware. Anyway. The calendar store, which is mainly seasonal, Apple, which tends to get a lot of traffic and excitement, Men’s Warehouse, A&F. Over on the other side of the office is Hallmark and Sprint. T’Challa’s the newest Sprint manager, his dad owns a huge tech company. He’s quiet, but nice and no-nonsense.”

“Huge like Stark huge?” Tegan asks.

“Bigger, actually,” Maria says. “He’s working with Stark now, though.”

“Huh,” Tegan says. “We’re kind of an oddball dumping ground, huh?”

“Something like that,” replies Maria with a laugh. “Ready to head downstairs?”

“Sure!” Tegan chirps. “This is kinda fun.”

Maria can’t help but smile. “We’ll see how you feel after a couple months here,” she says playfully, heading for the escalator.

“I’m pretty unflappable,” Tegan declares.

“Godiva’s over there,” Maria says as they step off the escalator, “Charlotte Russe, the portrait studio, the weird art gallery that Vanessa is in charge of-” she nods at a brown-haired woman who’s overdressed for any shopping mall, ever, and adjusting a painting “-Yankee Candle, and…” She waves her hand off toward the weed store in the corner. “Weed, if you’re into that. Occasionally we have an issue with a stoned customer, but not often. Usually they just go to the arcade or the food court.”

“Is it an actual weed store?” Tegan asks. “Like, there’s actually…”

“An actual weed store,” says Maria with a nod. “That going to bother you?”

“Nah,” Tegan shrugs. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Okay, good. Two-level Nordstrom on the end there, same deal as Kohl’s. GameStop can be exciting sometimes, along with Ross and FYE. T-Mobile, Gymboree, Disney Store, and, oh, the Gap is usually pretty fun, especially on sale days. There’s Steve.” She waves at Steve, who’s wrestling with a mannequin.

“Aren’t sale days fun everywhere?” Tegan asks sweetly.

“Oh, Gap sale days are a special kind of fun,” replies Maria, smirking. “There’s Sunglass Hut, with Heimdall, he keeps an eye on everything. Bath & Body Works, Claire’s - which is where you get a lot of teenagers shoplifting - and the art store. Any questions so far?”

Tegan shakes her head. “Seems pretty clear to me.”

“Good. Hot Topic and the hair salon are down on the end. Hot Topic is sometimes a little crazy, but the biggest problem you’ll get from there is Loki. He, ah, he fancies himself an anarchist.”

“A Hot Topic anarchist or an actual anarchist?” Tegan asks.

“Closer to the first, but enough of the second to actually be a pain in the ass sometimes. He held the Disney Store hostage with a plastic sword once while screaming that parental love was a lie.”

Tegan starts laughing, then calms enough to say, “Are you serious?”

“Completely. It was funny at the time, except for how it wasn’t, obviously.” Maria smirks. “Carina’s also over there and she’s sweet, if a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Noted,” Tegan nods. “Er, jumpy how?”

“Mostly the only problem is when she’s upset or feels cornered,” explains Maria. “She gets...pretty violent.”

“So the thing to do is to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Tegan muses. “Got it.”

“Pretty much,” agrees Maria. “So, David’s Bridal is over there, and Bobbi’s the one you’ll be dealing with. You’ll like her, most people do.”

“Funny? Badass? Friendly hot girl?”

Maria laughs. “All of the above, honestly.”

“But she’s not the girlfriend you mentioned before?” Tegan is smirking as she asks it.

“Oh, no, my girl’s at Nordstrom. But I’m not _dead_ ,” says Maria playfully. “Anyway, Mattress Firm’s there, then Victoria’s Secret, which you sometimes end up in, Loft, and the science supply store. That’s about it.”

Tegan smiles wryly. “Just the usual shoplifting lingerie reasons, with Victoria’s Secret?”

“I mean, probably,” Maria laughs. “The only girl I know who works there is Lorelei, who you probably don’t want to tangle with.”

“I feel like I know who you’re talking about,” Tegan says. “Terrifying gorgeous redhead?”

Maria nods. “That’s the one.”

“Yeah, she seems… like a handful. Better left to the experts,” Tegan cracks.

“That’s one way of putting it,” says Maria with a grin. “Any other questions?”

“Any mall rules I’m missing out on?” Tegan asks after a second of thinking.

Maria gestures to Tegan to follow her back to the escalator and, once they’re on it, says, “So Hydra members are banned from the mall, and also this one asshole named Scott Lang who tried to swipe a couple of iPads and then took a swing at me when I tried to subdue him. I mean, I don’t think he could’ve hurt me if he tried, but it was enough to get him a lifetime ban anyway.”

“Got it,” Tegan says. “Yeah, that’s… I’m sure he thought he had his reasons, but that’s not cool behavior.”

“Nope.” Maria smirks. “I was fine, obviously, but we’ve got his mugshot up in the office for future reference. Oh, and this isn’t an official rule but a lot of us look out for Kara, across the hall from our office in admin. She got out of a bad relationship with one of the Hydra guys recently and he stalked her and stole her dog after she left. So we’re pretty careful with her.”

“Poor girl,” Tegan murmurs. “That’s awful. She’s as okay as she can be, right?”

“She’s okay, I think,” says Maria. “She’s got good people looking after her. Oh, but you should know that her face is...it got kind of messed up when she was attacked during a bank robbery a couple years ago. She’s got a pretty dramatic scar, so just be aware.”

Tegan nods. “Anyone else to watch for?”

“Not officially.” Maria grins and adds, “Unofficially, there are people around here you should know, but we’ll go over that off the clock.”

“Got it.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Tegan says over lunch. “Who are those other people?”

“Oh yeah,” says Maria. “So, if you care at all about gossip, Darcy in FYE keeps tabs on basically everything around here, she’ll know what’s up. If you want _really_ weird shit, Raina in the weed store is the one to talk to.”

Tegan chuckles. “Well, gossip isn’t exactly my thing but then again, it might not be bad to catch up on, being a newbie and all. By really weird you mean…?”

Maria shrugs. “She pays attention to things most people don’t and she says things straight. No bullshit. Well, some bullshit, but not about things that matter.”

“Sounds helpful,” Tegan muses.

“Generally,” agrees Maria. “If you’ve got tech issues of any kind, not just Apple stuff, go to Skye in the Apple Store. She’s basically a genius with that shit. She’s also in charge of rallying people for awareness of stuff that needs to get done. Steve, on the other hand, is good if you need protection or justice.”

“Huh,” Tegan chuckles. “Someone for everything, kinda.”

“Basically. If you have actual problems, Irani in admin will know what to do. And if you want parties, Tony Stark. Don’t talk to Tony for any other reason, though.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’d ever occur to me to voluntarily talk to Tony Stark,” Tegan points out.

Maria laughs. “Just reiterating. Some of us have girl’s nights at Applebee’s depending on our schedules too, you’re welcome to come to the next one.”

“Thanks!” Tegan says cheerfully. “You’re a really cool… senior officer… person.”

“Well, Coulson’s absolutely _not_ that, so I do what I can,” replies Maria, smirking. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“It’s exactly what I’m aiming for,” Tegan jokes.


	100. but the story needs some mending and a better happy ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace takes it upon himself to rewrite _Batman v Superman_. Mike and some of his friends help him film it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 chapters! Thank you to everyone who's been reading and left kudos, comments, or simply been enjoying themselves. We appreciate you sticking with us.
> 
> We don't think much of the movie as it is, so we decided it should be fixed. And who better to fix it than a nine-year-old?

**SCENE 1**

**A city street. Nighttime.**

**The Waynes, dressed for a night out, walk down the street.**

 

* * *

 

“I feel like this tie isn’t straight,” says Joey with a snicker.

Elena snickers too. “You look fine,” she says, bumping him with her shoulder. “Just like a billionaire.”

“I don’t think the Waynes are worried about their ties,” Ace says solemnly, adjusting his own very fancy suit jacket.

“Action,” Gamora calls from behind the video camera (several years old but still in working condition).

Joey, Elena, and Ace start walking down the pavement in front of Knowhere and Quill’s Boards when Clint, wearing a silly-looking black mask that doesn’t even really cover his face, pops out of a bush with a toy gun pointed at them and says “Gimme your wallets!”

To their credits, Joey and Elena manage to act reasonably scared and not laugh at all. “Look,” says Joey, “Why don’t you just put the gun down.”

Clint scowls. “I want that necklace she’s wearing too!” He points to the necklace Elena is wearing, which is made of obvious fake pearls.

“No,” says Joey. “We’re not scared of you.”

Clint “fires” the gun and Joey yelps and grabs at his chest as if he’s been shot, falling very dramatically. Elena screams and then Clint “fires” at her too, Ace yelling “NOOOOOO!” Then there’s the sound of a police siren in the distance (thanks to the sound effects system Fitz rigged up) and Clint turns and runs away.

 

* * *

 

**A cemetery. Bruce sits by a headstone crying. He sees a bat and gets startled. Then he looks serious. He must fight to stop crime in Gotham and avenge his parents.**

**SCENE 2**

**Outside, daytime. There’s chaos in the city. Buildings are being destroyed and people are screaming.**

 

* * *

 

“Okay, try not to get me in the shot too much,” says Mike, almost apologetically, as he crouches beneath the intricate cardboard cityscape and holds a Batman action figure.

“I’ll try,” Gamora says. “Action.”

Mike moves the Batman figure as if he is looking around, then Ace (who’s standing on the other side of the table) reaches in to tip over one of the cardboard buildings, right where a Kelly doll is sitting.

Carina, behind the table, calls out, “Oh nooo!”

“I’ll save you!” says Mike, in a Batman voice, moving it over to grab the Kelly and nudge her out of the way just as the building falls.

“Thank you!” Carina chirps.

Then Mike uses a different voice to call “Help, help me!” and Gamora pans the camera over to where a Ken doll (which has only one leg) is pinned under a building. “I’m coming!” Batman says, and “shoves” the building off of him enough to “pull” him out from under it. “Thank you,” says the Ken doll, to which Batman replies, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for your medical expenses. I’m Batman.”

“Thank you, Batman!” chorus Mike and Carina.

“I will figure out who is responsible for this,” says Batman. “He will pay for what he did to my city!”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 3**

**An office building, daytime.**

**Lois sits at a desk with her notepad. We don’t see who she’s looking at.**

**LOIS  
So, Mr. Riches, how do you feel about the rumors that your business is shady?**

**A bullet comes flying through the window! Lois is shocked. She looks up in fear. Superman is there!**

 

* * *

 

Thor, in his Superman costume, leaps into the “room” (a desk placed at the front window of the empty store) and swats the “bullet” aside (it was really a laser pointer, but he’s pretty good at pretending). Jane, in her Lois costume, yelps and drops to the floor, somewhat stiffly. The pillow-shaped businessman, offscreen, stays in the chair.

The laser pointer flicks away to land on the computer, then stays there for a long moment. Everyone’s quiet, since they’re expecting to edit in the explosion effects later.

“Good take, everyone,” Gamora mutters as she turns off the camera and starts to get ready for the next shot.

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 4**

**The Daily Planet, daytime.**

**Lois is sitting at her desk and Clark is standing nearby. Perry White comes up to them, looking really worried.**

**PERRY  
Hello, Lois.**

**A pause.**

* * *

 

“I am concerned about your health and safety,” says Mack, who’s dressed in a business suit and acting like a vague approximation of a newspaper editor. They’ve moved the desk to a different corner of the empty store in the hope of disguising it as another desk.

“I’m fine, Mr. White,” Jane replies, smiling bravely. (Or she’s trying to smile bravely, since that’s what it says she should be doing in the script.) “Superman managed to get Mr. Riches and I out of the building before the fire got too out of hand.” She looks at Thor fondly.

Thor smiles back at her (that wasn’t in the script, he just couldn’t help it) and then says, “Mr. White, should we investigate the assassination attempt on Mr. Riches?”

“No,” says Mack. “The police will handle that. I want you to write about baseball. The Metropolis Monarchs have a game tonight against the Gotham Knights. It’s very important that you cover that.”

“But sir, the Metropolis Monarchs play the Gotham Knights every year,” Jane insists. “Assassination attempts are newsworthy, too.”

“Not today,” says Mack, trying to sound stern (actually trying not to laugh). “I have to go to a meeting now. I want that story in my inbox tomorrow morning.” He walks off camera.

“I don’t think we should forget about the assassination attempt,” Jane says, trying to seem concerned.

“Neither do I,” says Thor, frowning. “Mr. White has very bad priorities.”

“There’s that big fundraiser for the library tomorrow night,” Jane offers. “I bet we would be able to figure out who might want to kill Mr. Riches by listening to his fancy friends talk.”

“That’s a good idea!” Thor smiles. “We’ll go to the game tonight and ask Mr. White to let us cover that party tomorrow.”

“Compromises are important,” Jane agrees solemnly.

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 5**

**A mansion, nighttime.**

**Lois and Clark are wearing fancy party clothes. They walk in and look around. Lex Luthor comes over to say hello.**

 

* * *

 

“This is a really fancy party,” Jane says softly, sipping from a clearly plastic flute of what’s clearly apple juice.

“Yes it is, Lois,” says Thor, taking a sip as well. “Oh, that must be our host.”

Hogun comes over, wearing a bald cap and looking serious. “Hello,” he says. “You must be the Daily Planet reporters. I’m Lex Luthor and welcome to my home.”

“It’s very nice,” Jane declares, nodding vehemently.

“Thank you. I believe libraries are important,” says Hogun. “You should talk to Bruce Wayne, one of the biggest donors for tonight.” He waves at Mike, who’s offscreen, and Mike goes to join them. Hogun smiles at everyone before wandering off.

“Hello,” says Thor, offering his hand. “I’m Clark Kent from the Daily Planet, and this is Lois Lane.”

“Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises?” Jane asks, also offering her hand but with an inquisitive expression.

“That’s me,” says Mike with a smile. “I came a long way from Gotham to be here tonight, because I believe libraries are important.”

“They are,” agrees Thor with a nod. “Your company is based in Gotham, right? Do you think it is helping boost the economy?”

Mike nods (trying very hard to hide his grin of amusement). “Yes, Wayne Enterprises has been very good for Gotham. I’d love to tell you more after I get a drink.” He turns and walks offscreen.

“There’s something off about him,” Jane whispers to Thor.

“I agree,” Thor says quietly. “What should we do about it?”

Jane frowns. “I think we need to watch and wait,” she says.

Mike wanders back over, holding his own glass of apple juice. “What else do you want to know about my company?”

“Actually, I was wondering what you thought about Batman,” Jane declares, not at all subtle.

Mike blinks. “He’s a vigilante,” he says, “but he protects people. That’s good.”

“Do you think vigilantes are better than the police?” Thor asks.

“Sometimes,” says Mike. “When the police can’t stop someone, Batman can.”

“And Superman?” Thor asks. “He does the same thing.”

“Superman is a vigilante too,” replies Mike, “but he has a sillier costume. Besides, Batman saved all those people when Superman was fighting the alien in the city.”

Thor frowns. “Superman saves people too!”

“Yes, but-”

“Having an argument?” Sif interrupts sweetly, sidling into the shot. “You should’ve called me.”

“Hello,” Jane says, tilting her head. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Lois Lane.”

“Diana Prince,” says Sif, offering her hand. “And you?” she asks Thor.

“I’m Clark Kent, Ms. Lane and I are from the Daily Planet,” says Thor. “Are you familiar with Batman?”

“Yes,” nods Sif. “I think he is doing a good thing but in a very silly way. He dresses up as a giant bat and fights people.”

“What about Superman?” Jane asks.

“I feel the same way about Superman,” Sif says, “but at least he isn’t dressed up as a giant bat.”

“Would you like to grab a drink?” Jane asks. “I would love to get your opinion on more local things.”

“Yes,” says Sif, and they walk out of frame together.

Mike and Thor watch them leave, then Thor says, “I don’t agree with you, but I shouldn’t have argued. I’m supposed to be interviewing you, not fighting with you.”

“That’s okay,” Mike says. “Do you want to hear more about my company?”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 6**

**A lab, inside.**

**A security guard is standing in front of a table with a sheet over a body. Lex Luthor is talking to him.**

 

* * *

 

“Could I please examine the body?” Hogun asks.

Clint, who is wearing a t-shirt that says SECURITY on it, frowns. “My boss said not to let anyone past.”

“It’s okay,” says Hogun, “I’m a scientist. That means you can trust me.”

“Oh, okay,” says Clint. “I guess if you’re a scientist.”

Clint leaves and Hogun walks over to the table and pulls the sheet off, very dramatically. Drax is lying there, eyes closed, wearing only swim trunks. Hogun moves so he’s blocking Drax’s crotch, even though the swim trunks are still probably visible on camera. Hogun smiles down at Drax. “Good, just what I needed.”

 

* * *

 

Drax enthusiastically makes the Doomsday action figure growl as he sends it rampaging through more cardboard buildings, Gamora filming the scene as carefully as possible. Then she moves to get a shot of Sif, standing in front of a cardboard backdrop with more buildings painted on it and looking horrified. “Oh no,” Sif says before turning and jogging offscreen.

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 7**

**Inside, a computer desk.**

**Diana sits down and turns on her computer, then plugs in a flash drive and types. She frowns and types some more.**

**Cut to Diana, standing by the ocean.**

 

* * *

 

Sif stands next to the kiddie pool where Luke, who looks vaguely uncomfortable, is pretending to be totally at home. “Your highness!” she calls. “I need your assistance!”

Luke pokes his head out of the pool. “I have no time for silly human conflicts,” he says, trying to sound kingly and dignified.

“You should make time,” says Sif sternly. “Don’t you know this monster can swim?”

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 8**

**Star Labs, indoors.**

**Barry Allen is with the rest of Team Flash, looking at Diana.**

 

* * *

 

“Flash,” says Sif, “we need your help. Lex Luthor created a monster and we need all the superheroes to team up and fight it.”

Pietro, who’s wearing a Flash suit that definitely came from a Halloween store, asks, “What kind of monster? Maybe Cisco can do something with science.”

“Big and ugly,” replies Sif. “Big enough to smash buildings. We don’t want to put anyone in danger, it has to be just you.”

“Barry,” exclaims Jemma, with a decent American accent and horrible acting, “you should go help. Listen to her.”

“Yeah,” says Joey, who is awkwardly dressed like he’s ten years younger than he is, “I can make some upgrades to your suit!”

Akela nods. “We’ll be able to watch you from here.”

“It’s your destiny,” says Fitz, who is wearing glasses and has lines drawn on his face to try to look older.

Pietro smiles and says, “Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

**A basement, Team Arrow headquarters.**

**Diana is in the doorway. Green Arrow looks grumpy while the others stand behind him.**

 

* * *

 

“You have to help,” says Sif insistently. “Everyone has agreed to help.”

“I don’t want to help,” grunts Clint, who is wearing all-green and a quiver of arrows and pouting exaggeratedly. “I’m brooding.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Trip says sternly. “The world needs you.”

“I have failed this city,” says Clint.

“You fail if you don’t try,” Bobbi says, arms folded over her chest (she’s wearing more leather than Ace called for in the script, but come on).

“I don’t want to try,” grumbles Clint.

Bobbi glances at Skye (who’s also wearing way too much leather) and smirks evilly. “I’ll tell Felicity to shut off the internet for a month,” she says.

“I’ll do it, too,” Darcy declares, adjusting her glasses and attempting to rearrange her shitty blonde wig.

Clint sighs. “Okay, I’ll come.”

“Thank you,” says Sif.

Before the camera shuts off, Bobbi grins and plants one on Skye, smug as anything.

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 9**

**Outside, downtown Metropolis.**

**Doomsday is knocking down buildings and roaring.**

 

* * *

 

Hogun sits in a desk chair with a comically large phone. He waits an appropriate amount of time for the other side to pick up, then says, “Hi, is this Superman? Great, I wanted to tell you I set a monster loose in downtown Metropolis. You should probably take care of that. Bye!” Then he hangs up.

After a few minutes of setup, Thor is sitting in a similar desk chair, holding his phone to his ear. “Wait, what?” he says. “What monster? Who is this?” Then he looks at it, as if the other person has hung up. “Oh no,” he says, then dials a number. “Hi, Batman? Someone called me and said he has a monster in Metropolis. Can you help?”

 

* * *

 

**Metropolis, outside the city.**

**Lex Luthor is there. He is holding a kryptonite spear.**

 

* * *

 

“Hello, Superman,” says Hogun, holding a neon green wrapping paper tube with a point on the end of it. “I made a monster for you to fight out of Zod’s body. Unfortunately, I decided I’d rather kill you myself.” He starts to throw the spear.

Mike quickly tosses one of his plastic batarangs at the spear, and when it hits it Hogun lets go and sends the tube flying out of the shot. “What!” he says. “How could you do that!”

“You won’t kill anyone today,” Mike says. “We brought a friend.”

Sif saunters onscreen, with Pietro and Clint close behind her. “You’ll be sorry, Luthor!” she says.

Thor glances back at Pietro and Clint, making an exaggerated shocked face. “Who are _you_?”

Sif pulls out a lasso and tosses it around Hogun. “We’re not letting you leave!” she says. “We’ll come back for you after we defeat the monster.”

Hogun smirks and chuckles evilly. “We’ll see.”

“I’m the Flash,” says Pietro to Thor, offering his hand to shake. “That’s Green Arrow, he’s grumpy.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 10**

**Metropolis, downtown.**

**Everyone is fighting Doomsday.**

 

* * *

 

Drax is standing next to a refrigerator box vaguely painted to resemble a skyscraper, covered in pillows that have been tied around him. The pillows hadn’t been there before, but Carina got so worried about someone accidentally hurting him during the “fight” that Mike and Ace had pulled them out. This doesn’t mean he doesn’t look absurd.

Pietro, who apparently wasn’t expecting this, starts giggling. “He looks like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man!”

“Oh my god, he does,” says Clint, who is also giggling. “Or that one episode of _Community_ with the blanket fort.” Thor and Sif are guffawing.

Even Mike is trying very hard not to laugh. “I mean, it’s safe?” he asks, snickering.

“Okay, yeah, it’s hilarious,” Gamora drones. “Let’s get back to work.” She waves the camera around, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah,” Ace exclaims, though he’s snickering. “Time to start the scene.” He’s sitting next to Gamora eating candy by this point. “Action!”

Sif leaps into the frame and punches Drax in the chest (well, vaguely the chest) first. “Begone!” she says. He roars and shoves her away, and she bounces back and hits him on the arm before jumping out of the way.

Ace nods approvingly. He was worried about that line, but Sif made it work.

Clint grunts and fires an arrow (a plastic arrow) at Drax. It bounces off Drax’s shoulder and he roars indignantly, stomping over towards Clint.

“Oh no,” says Clint, scurrying away to where a stepstool is hiding behind another “building.”

“Hey!” says Pietro, running over. “Ugly! Over here!” He pokes the back of Drax’s shoulder, then, when Drax looks back at him, he runs away with Drax lumbering after him.

“What should we do?” Mike asks Thor.

“We should get him away from the city!” Thor says. “Flash, bring him this way!”

“Okay!” says Pietro. “Hey, stupid, follow me, I’ve got the map!” He runs a circle around Drax, then leads him off, the camera following them.

 

* * *

 

**Outside the city, a deserted area.**

**Superman and Wonder Woman start fighting Doomsday. Batman and Green Arrow shoot things at him.**

 

* * *

 

Sif and Thor are trading blows with Drax while Clint shoots more arrows at him. Pietro runs around annoying him, mostly. Mike pretends to be on a comm. “Flash! Did you see where the kryptonite spear went? Zod was a Kryptonian just like Superman. We need kryptonite to defeat him!”

Pietro says, “Um, that way?” He shrugs and points vaguely in the direction the spear went.

Mike sighs exaggeratedly. “Okay, I have to go find it. I’ll be back soon.” He walks away from the fight and pulls out his phone. “Alfred? I need you to activate the kryptonite tracker.”

Gamora holds up a hand, pauses the camera, and jogs inside to the already-redecorated desk (now there’s a lamp, a laptop, and a mug of tea on it) where Jarvis (who was recruited for this by Pietro) is sitting tapping away at the laptop. Jarvis picks up the phone. “Very good, sir. And how is the monster hunting going? Excellent. I’ll have that operational right away.”

Then Gamora jogs back outside the building, where Mike is waiting, and he fiddles with the old GPS unit they found at Goodwill and painted black to look like a Bat-gadget before heading off away from the battle.

When he reaches the kiddie pool, where Luke is once again squashed in, he asks, “Are you Aquaman? Wonder Woman told me about you.”

“I am,” says Luke, holding the kryptonite spear. “Are you looking for this?”

“Yes, can I have it?”

“I see you earth people are still bad at your jobs,” grumbles Luke, but hands it to him. “Don’t bother me again.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 11**

**Batman joins Superman and the others in fighting Doomsday. The battle is still going on.**

 

* * *

 

Mike runs over and tosses the spear to Clint. “Green Arrow, catch!”

Clint fumbles and almost drops his bow, but manages to grab it and shoot it off towards Flash. “All yours, Speedy!”

“Flash!” Pietro replies, dashing over to snatch it midair. “Hey Wondy, catch!”

Sif whirls around to glare at him, but grabs the spear he throws at her and calls, “Superman!”

Thor reaches out and grabs it, “stabbing” Drax in his armpit and making sure his body is turned so it looks like it’s gone through his chest. Drax roars angrily and lets his body slump a bit, enough so Thor can jump a bit while holding him.

 

* * *

 

While Carina holds up a painted background that looks vaguely like space, Mike holds the Superman action figure and the Doomsday action figure that have been carefully tied together and makes them fly through space.

Behind the background, Thor is yelling and Drax is still roaring. Carina’s wincing a bit at this, so Nebula’s also standing next to her petting her hair very gently (and glaring at anyone who she thinks might find this cute).

Gamora cuts over to the others, who are standing in a huddle watching something going on in the sky (nothing is going on in the sky). Sif and Pietro look deeply concerned, Mike is trying for stoic-but-anxious, and Clint is mostly just pouting still.

After a minute or so of that, Pietro turns to the others. “Is that it? Is he…”

Mike nods. “He was very brave. He sacrificed himself for everyone.”

 

* * *

 

“So it’s cool if we use your place?” Mike asks. “It would mean a lot to him.”

“Sure,” says Tony, voice echoing a little because of the speakerphone. “Happy to help. Can I be _in_ it?”

“Maybe you can be in _Suicide Squad_ ,” Ace says solemnly.

“Okay, okay, whatever, that’s fine. Next weekend, right? Saturday? I’ll be sure to order pizzas.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 12**

**The Wayne house in Metropolis, Superman’s funeral.**

**Lois, Diana, Bruce, the Kents, and some other people are there.**

 

* * *

 

Clint, dressed as a farmer this time, holds out his hand for Mike to shake, looking sad. “We appreciate your hosting the memorial service here,” he says. “It’s very nice of you.”

Laura, standing at Clint’s side, looking sad as well, says, “It means a lot that you’d want to honor our son like this.”

“Of course,” says Mike. “He was a good man.”

Jane, wearing a very prim, formal black dress, hurries over. “Mr. and Mrs. Kent, I’m sorry we had to meet like this,” she murmurs. “I’m Lois. I heard so much about you.”

“Oh, honey,” Laura coos. “You’re very kind.”

“You seem like a nice young lady,” Clint says. “Clark told us a lot about you. You made him happy.”

Jane blushes. “I’m glad I could do that,” she says.

“Clark was a hero,” Mike says. “We will remember him that way.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 13**

**A desert, at sunset. A bright light flies through the sky and heads for the earth. There’s a loud thud. Fade to black.**

 

* * *

 

There’s a round of applause from the audience, and then Tony gets up to turn off the DVD player. “Thanks for coming out tonight for this screening of _Batman v Superman,_ directed by Ace Peterson,” he says. Then he winks at Ace. “Not bad, kid. You’ve got talent, you’re pretty good.”

Ace, sitting in the front row next to his dad, grins. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cast**  
>  Thomas Wayne: Joey Gutierrez  
> Martha Wayne: Elena Rodriguez  
> Young Bruce Wayne/Batman: Ace Peterson  
> Girl in Metropolis: Carina Pritchard  
> Lois Lane: Jane Foster  
> Clark Kent/Superman: Thor Odinson  
> Perry White: Alphonso Mackenzie  
> Lex Luthor: Hogun Wakahisa  
> Bruce Wayne/Batman: Mike Peterson  
> Diana Prince/Wonder Woman: Sif Lindstrom  
> Security Guard: Clint Barton  
> Doomsday: Drax del Castillo  
> Aquaman: Luke Cage  
> Barry Allen/The Flash: Pietro Maximoff  
> Caitlin Snow: Jemma Simmons  
> Cisco Ramon: Joey Gutierrez  
> Iris West: Akela Amador  
> Harry Wells: Leo Fitz  
> Oliver Queen/Green Arrow: Clint Barton  
> John Diggle: Antoine Triplett  
> Sara Lance: Bobbi Morse  
> Nyssa al Ghul: Skye Johnson  
> Felicity Smoak: Darcy Lewis  
> Alfred Pennyworth: Edwin Jarvis  
> Pa Kent: Clint Barton  
> Martha Kent: Laura Amello


	101. I have hope inside is not a heart but a kaleidoscope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Steve have birthday parties, while the Jarvises hold another low-key Fourth of July event at their house.

The buzzer goes off. “Fitz, you go,” says Skye lazily. “I’m busy.”

“Doing _what_ , exactly?” says Fitz, raising an eyebrow.

“Being the birthday girl. Cuddling. Y’know.” Skye doesn’t move from where she’s sandwiched between Bobbi and Jemma.

Fitz sighs dramatically. “ _Fiiiiine_ ,” he groans, going over to the buzzer.

A minute later, Kara is at the door with a small gift bag and a plate of cookies. “Hey,” she says with an anxious wave. “Happy birthday, Skye!”

‘Hey!” says Skye, half sitting up with a grin and an answering wave. “Glad you made it! You can put those, uh…” She glances around. “By the cake?”

Trip rolls his eyes fondly and comes over to Kara. “Since she’s being lazy, let me help,” he says, offering a hand to take the cookies.

“Thanks,” Kara replies, grinning. “Oh, God, am I the first one to show up?”

“Technically,” Bobbi says with a shrug, pulling Skye close again. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re glad you’re here, etcetera.”

“Sit down,” encourages Fitz. “She’s being a bad hostess,” he adds, shooting a glare at Skye.

“She’s being a fine hostess,” Jemma exclaims defensively. “She just isn’t being a good doorman. Which, honestly, when is she?”

“Never,” says Skye cheerfully. “Anyway, Kara, help yourself to snacks if you want some. We’re gonna get a game of Mario Party started once the other three show up.”

Kara giggles. “How casual,” she says, grabbing a soda and a handful of chips. “I wasn’t sure if we were doing presents, so it’s not that big, just in case I was the awkward only one showing up with a present.”

“I mean, I didn’t tell people _not_ to bring presents,” says Skye with a mischievous grin.

“You would halfway be expecting them even if you did,” Bobbi says fondly.

“Pretty much,” agrees Skye. “How’re you, Kara?”

“Been better, but I don’t wanna depress your party mood, we can talk later,” Kara replies evasively.

Skye frowns. “I mean if you need to talk, that’s what friends are for.”

“I dunno,” Kara mumbles. “It’s, I mean, Karen’s staying over, we’ve got it pretty much covered. It’s just, apparently whatever joke of a correctional facility they stuck Grant in wasn’t strong enough.”

“Shit,” Bobbi exclaims, clenching her fist. “Are you okay? Has he bothered you?”

Kara shakes her head. “I just heard it from Maria, who heard it from her cop friend,” she says. “He might not even be back in town yet. It’s just… I thought I was rid of him, y’know?”

Skye curls her lip. “Can we do anything? I wanna punch him in the dick.”

“I guess just… mindfulness?” Kara says, shrugging helplessly. “I don’t really know what else there is to do unless he shows up with a list of demands, which is not exactly ideal.”

Trip nods. “If you ever need somewhere to crash, my place is open.”

“Um, the bunch of us were planning on going to visit my mom next weekend, but I can tell her we need to reschedule if…” Skye trails off, uncertain.

“You don’t have to do that,” Kara replies immediately. “I mean, Akela’s down the hall and Karen’s staying over, like I said, which…” She laughs nervously. “If he got into my place, shudder to think, he… wouldn’t be leaving it without bullet holes, thanks to her. So.”

Fitz smiles shakily. “Well, that’s something?” he says. “How, um, how is your dog?”

“She’s pretty good,” Kara says with a laugh. She doesn’t mind his obvious diversion. “Having an afternoon playdate with her buddy Ajax.” She and Bobbi exchange amused nods. “I was about to suggest she come over and meet your guys’ cat, but that wouldn’t go over well, would it?”

“Almost certainly not,” Jemma nods. “Griffith barely likes _people_ that aren’t us, I can’t imagine she’d do well with pets whose attention she’d have to compete for. In a purely hypothetical sense, of course, since she rarely _lets_ people give her attention.”

Skye snorts. “Poor thing might jump out of her skin. You can bring her over here sometime, though!”

“She’ll climb on your furniture,” Kara warns, smirking.

“Hey, that’s okay. That’s what it’s for.” Skye grins.

The doorbell rings and this time it’s Bobbi who says, “Fitz, be a dear?”

Fitz sighs and gets up again. This time it’s Joey and Elena. “Hi!” says Joey. “Sorry, there was weird traffic.”

“Hey, no worries,” says Skye. “Nice to see you guys! There’s food if you want some. We’re waiting on Mack and then we can get a game started.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” says Elena with a smirk. “I don’t really play video games.”

“Neither does this one,” Bobbi says archly, patting Jemma’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” Jemma exclaims, but she isn’t really protesting that much.

Skye snickers and runs her hand down Jemma’s arm. “No worries, we’re starting with Mario Party. Super easy,” she promises Elena.

Just a few minutes later, Mack arrives, holding a small package. “Oh, am I the last one?” he says with a grin. “Whoops.”

“Whoops,” Bobbi repeats, smirking. “Pull up a chair, none of us are relinquishing ours.”

Mack rolls his eyes and ambles over to put his present with the others, then sits down next to Joey, who’s on the floor. “Apparently I should’ve bought you some lawn chairs,” he says good-naturedly to Skye.

“Why? That’s what the floor is for,” replies Skye, finally disentangling herself from her girlfriends to turn on the Wii.

“Really?” Kara asks, giggling.

“Yup.” Skye puts the disc in and grabs a box full of Wii remotes. “I own like a dozen of these ‘cause I dated a guy who worked at GameStop a few years ago and they had a super sale, and this is the first time I’ve used most of them,” she says, taking one for herself and passing the box along.

“Super sale, or sex discount?” Bobbi asks with a slightly evil grin.

Skye laughs. “I mean, some of both? I might’ve gotten a bigger...discount than most people.”

“And was that the only thing that was bigger?” Bobbi presses.

“Nope,” says Skye smugly. “Anyway, I call Daisy.”

“Peach,” Jemma says immediately, kissing Skye’s cheek.

Trip nudges Fitz. “We should be Mario and Luigi.”

Fitz snickers. “All right!”

“I’ll take Toad again,” says Joey.

Elena frowns. “I don’t know much about any of these.”

“The big guy in purple and yellow is Wario, the tall skinny purple guy is Waluigi, the dinosaur is Yoshi, the weird pink thing is Birdo, the turtle is Koopa Troopa, the guy in the mask is Shy Guy, and the wizard is Magikoopa,” Skye rattles off. “It doesn’t super matter which one you pick, in this game.”

“What is the pink thing?” Elena says, squinting at it. “That’s ridiculous. I’ll be that one.”

“The turtle,” Kara declares.

“Yoshi for me,” Bobbi says, smirking.

“I’ll be Wario,” says Mack.

“Great!” Skye says, starting the game.

 

* * *

 

“Mine next,” says Natasha, handing him a small box with an evil smirk.

Steve, who is already wearing an American flag bowtie and an American flag hat, takes the box with some suspicion. “I am never going to get normal presents again, am I?” he asks once he’s unwrapped the box and taken out a pair of glasses where the frame… is a pair of giant, vision-obstructing American flags.

“Nope,” says Natasha, popping the P with great satisfaction.

“These aren’t even stupid-but-practical,” he sighs dramatically.

“If you want practical,” Sharon pipes up, “open mine.”

Natasha runs to grab the box from where they piled all the presents (there were five, there are two left), and hands it to Sharon with a shit-eating grin, who promptly hands it to Steve. “I’m a little scared,” he quips. Inside the box is… two pairs of women’s underpants. “Uh,” he says.

“Be right back!” Sharon exclaims, grabbing the box, then Natasha, then running out.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, not really expecting an answer.

Bucky and Sam are snickering. “Wait for it,” says Bucky.

After a couple minutes Natasha and Sharon saunter back in, topless and wearing said underpants, one of which is flag-patterned and the other of which says USA IS BAE. “Happy birthday,” Sharon announces, putting a hand on her hip and smirking.

“Uh,” Steve says again.

At this point Sam and Bucky also stand up and start stripping off their clothes, to reveal a pair of boxers with an eagle’s head and a flag on Bucky and a pair of briefs with a themed popsicle and HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY! on Sam. “See,” says Sam, grinning, “practical.”

“Practical for giving me hell,” Steve replies, clearly amused.

“But you love it,” says Bucky with a smirk. He leans over to get a kiss.

Which Steve obliges, though he’s trying not to laugh. “I can’t say you don’t spoil me,” he declares.

“Oh, just wait,” says Sam. He goes over to grab the last package, which is much larger than the others. “Happy birthday, Rogers.”

Steve puzzles over the box for a moment, like he’s trying to decide what nonsense could be in store this time. “I’m not sure I trust you,” he says, somewhat teasing.

“Just open it, dumbass,” she says fondly. “You’ll like it, Scout’s honor.”

When he pulls out a 72-piece set of Copic markers, he actually tears up a little. “You really didn’t have to do this,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Sharon says with the gentlest of smirks. “It’s your birthday.”

“Still,” Steve replies.

“We looooove you,” sing-songs Sam, kissing Steve’s cheek.

“I love you too,” Steve says, chuckling. “And it seems like I’m overdressed for the occasion. By the way.”

“Well, we’re just gonna have to fix that,” says Bucky, reaching for Steve’s belt.

 

* * *

 

“...and my advisor Dr. Garner was talking about it, actually, the psychological effect on many students who are given abstinence-only sex education,” Wanda is saying. “He finds it appalling.”

Ana nods, wrinkling her nose. “Giving students that kind of message is incredibly dangerous,” she agrees.

“Emotionally and literally,” Violet interjects, sipping her beer. “Not even taking teen pregnancy into account - and I’m not saying that’s doomed to end badly, just that it’s not an ideal situation almost any time - there’s the fact that a fourth of all teenagers are getting STDs every year. That’s disgusting.”

Sousa smiles fondly. “You’re cute talking about sex ed,” he tells Violet, who scoffs playfully.

Thor, who’s standing nearby eavesdropping, nearly drops his drink and makes a horrified face. “Those statistics are most disheartening!” he says. “Is there nothing that can be done about it?”

“Other than convince American adults to stop being such prudes?” Ana offers.

“Oh dear,” says Jarvis, who knows a rant coming on when he hears one.

“Does your school not have a health teacher to impart correct information to the youth?” Thor asks, frowning.

“Oh, Sarah does what she can,” Ana says, rolling her eyes, “but she isn’t the only health teacher, and it doesn’t stop those who are _not_ health teachers from butting their heads into the matter.”

Thor shakes his head. “They are not educators in the least if they are keeping valuable information from students. My brother and I were fortunate enough to have a complete education as far as our sexual health goes, but even that was partially due to Mother’s active efforts.”

“I didn’t know you were so passionate about this,” Jane teases, nudging his shoulder.

Thor grins good-naturedly. “Well, if someone’s health is at stake, it is very important.”

Wanda nods. “My school was very advanced in most matters, but sex ed was...somewhat lacking. We got condoms and menstruation and nothing else. I didn’t even think…” She glances at Hope shyly before continuing. “There wasn’t much for someone who wasn’t straight.”

“Honestly, I don’t think there ever is,” Peggy sighs. “In terms of sex education or otherwise, no matter how hard the good ones like Sarah try.”

Angie ambles over, drink in hand. “What’s all this?”

“Bemoaning the lack of decent sex education in this country and the assholes that make it so,” Ana says dramatically.

“Ooh, that’s always fun.” Angie grins. “Remember when Miriam found out we were doin’ _RENT_ and she flipped her shit? I was shocked she didn’t show up on opening night with signs, to be honest.”

Wanda blinks. “What happened?”

“Oh, we got a real piece of work teaching home ec, and she found out we were puttin’ on _RENT_ for the spring musical and tried to get it shut down. Didn’t work.”

“I’m so sorry you had to put up with that,” Hope says, then immediately she looks embarrassed for talking so much at once.

“Aw, it’s okay,” says Angie. “It was mostly just funny. Went over really well, sold out a couple nights and the kids were amazing.”

“As was their director,” Peggy adds, smirking as she leans to kiss Angie’s cheek.

Angie hums happily and turns to pull her into a real kiss. “Thanks, English,” she murmurs.

Jarvis smiles and then coughs, a bit embarrassed. “Right, I should check on the food,” he says, wandering over to the grill.

Pietro wanders by, drawing in the air with a sparkler even though it’s barely five PM and the sun is very much still out. “You want one?” he calls to Wanda.

Wanda chuckles. “No, I’m good, thanks.” She casually reaches out to take Hope’s hand, and Hope smiles, nodding.

“Well, let us change the subject to something less distressing,” Thor says cheerfully. “Have you heard about the film Ace Peterson made?”

“If it’s the film that Jarvis appeared in, I heard about it in the vaguest sense,” Peggy says.

“It was adorable,” Jane chuckles. “We were Superman and Lois, since we already had the costumes. He was really into, how did he put it?”

“I believe he said ‘fixing all of the dumb mistakes,’” Thor says with a grin. “He apparently did not care for the way that Luthor or Batman were handled.”

“And since he decided every character who’s ever been on a DC show should cross over, lots of us got to cameo,” Darcy announces. “I had the worst wig ever. It was great.”

Angie giggles. “That sounds so cute! How old is he again?”

“He’s nine,” replies Thor, “and a very clever young man.”

“Sounds like it! I’ll look for him in like five years, maybe he’ll wanna join the troupe.”

“I got to be Flash!” says Pietro. “I mostly ran around and hit the pillows Drax tied onto himself, but it was fun.”

Wanda nods. “I wasn’t in it, but if he doesn’t like _Suicide Squad_ , he might remake that too. He promised I could be Enchantress. Raina has called dibs on Harley Quinn.”

“That’s gonna be interesting,” Darcy declares. “In a good way, just… maybe not how Ace is gonna mean it to be.”

“Why is Raina so keen on being that particular character?” Jarvis calls from where he’s grilling. “I suppose I’ve only met her the once, but she seemed...rather more subtle.”

Giggling, Wanda replies, “She’s good at hiding it, but she’s odder than she seems.”

“I see,” says Jarvis, who looks as if he doesn’t see at all. “Anyhow, if anyone would like a hot dog, they’re ready.”

Pietro drops his sparkler in the water bucket Ana set out for them and zips over to grab a plate. “Can I have two?” he asks. “I’m hungry.”

“Well, let’s let everyone else get one first,” says Jarvis with a chuckle as he serves Pietro.

 

* * *

 

Skye’s almost halfway through the pile of presents, having received a GameStop gift card from Joey, a shirt that says _Have you tried turning it off and on again?_ from Fitz (that made her giggle), an R2D2-themed power station from Bobbi (who winked and said “there’s more you’ll get later”), and an R2D2 screwdriver (Mack laughed and said “I didn’t talk to Bobbi, I swear”).

Next, Skye reaches for a flat square package. “Oh, that’s mine,” says Elena. “I wasn’t quite sure what to do, but I hope you like it.”

It turns out to be a canvas with a colorful abstract design, in different shades of blue and green. “Holy shit,” says Skye, mouth falling open a bit. “Did you paint this?”

“Yes. Joey said you like blue, and I thought it was appropriate because of your name.” Elena grins.

“It’s so cool, thank you so much.” Skye gets up and sets it carefully on the table, away from the food.

“You’re welcome,” says Elena, smiling.

Coming back over, Skye grabs a smaller package that’s suspiciously DVD-shaped. “I wonder what this could be,” she teases Trip.

Trip laughs. “C’mon, girl, you only gave me like three ideas.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Skye, sticking out her tongue playfully before tearing the paper off. “Yes!” she yelps when it turns out to be a combo pack of the _Tremors_ movies. “Best movies ever!”

“Never seen those, actually,” Mack comments.

Skye’s head whips around to look at him. “You’ve never...oh my god, you have to come over and watch them. They’re classic B-movies! The third one has monsters that fly by farting and then lighting their farts on fire!”

“You just said that, didn’t you,” Kara muses, seeming vaguely alarmed.

“Yup,” says Skye gleefully. “They’re great.” Then she grabs the package she knows isn’t Jemma’s, because Jemma pointed her gift out and asked Skye to save it for last. “Kara, this is yours right?”

Kara nods. “I, I hope you like it,” she says with a shaky smile.

“I’m pretty easy to please, I promise,” says Skye, unwrapping it to pull out a soft black sleep shirt with a pair of crossed lightsabers on it. “Oh man, this is great!”

“They glow in the dark,” Kara says proudly.

“Oh my god,” says Skye. “Be right back!” She runs off towards the bathroom, then comes back after a few minutes practically bouncing. “I love it!”

“Good!” Kara exclaims. “It seemed really cool.”

”It is,” says Skye, grinning. “Thank you. Okay, now…” She grabs the last present and looks at Jemma. “Can I open it?” she asks, making an exaggerated pleading face.

Jemma nods, unable to stop smiling. “You can,” she agrees.

Grinning, Skye opens the package and, when she pulls out two little gold bags, she looks at Jemma, eyes shining. “You _didn’t_ ,” she says.

“Clearly I did,” Jemma replies, shyly nodding.

Skye opens one of the bags and holds up the aluminum bracelet that has “drift compatible” stamped on it so that everyone can see. “They’re a set!” she says, tossing the other bag to Jemma.

Fitz rolls his eyes fondly. “Technically Jemma and I should get them too,” he points out.

“Yes,” Jemma says, shaking her head, “but I know you wouldn’t wear it, so it wasn’t worth mentioning to you.”

“Fair point,” agrees Fitz.

“That’s really sweet, though,” Kara says. “You guys are really sweet.”

“We know,” replies Skye, leaning over to kiss Jemma on the cheek.

“Do you ever just stop and make gagging noises when you’re around them?” Mack asks Bobbi with a grin.

Bobbi snorts. “Noises… are made,” she smirks.

“Gross,” says Joey, snickering.

 

* * *

 

“So...I’d say we celebrated the holiday with a _bang_ ,” says Natasha, grinning.

There’s a round of groans and Sam half-heartedly tries to shove her off the bed. “You’re out,” he says. “Get out.”

Natasha shoves him right back and snickers. “You’re welcome.”

“I like how we celebrate a lot better than the alternative,” Steve says, fondly ruffling Bucky’s hair.

“Yeah,” agrees Bucky. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, me too,” says Sam, serious now. “It’s really nice of you guys to...y’know.”

Sharon nods, turning to kiss Sam’s chest. “Of course,” she murmurs.

Natasha nestles into his other side. “Gross,” she teases.

“It’s well-earned,” Sharon exclaims, reaching to swat at Natasha’s arm.

“Anyway, didn’t you make us all rings and shit from flowers last year?” teases Bucky. “I definitely remember that. I have pictures.”

Natasha makes a face at him. “Shut up, James. No one asked you.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s about to say something, but it takes another moment before he actually asks, “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

“Who, me?” Natasha asks, sounding startled. “Fuck no. I’m out.” But she doesn’t really move, because the bed’s too comfy.

“Why, you askin’?” Bucky smirks.

“Maybe,” Steve says, looking each of them in the eye as best he can. “I mean, we’re all…” He shrugs. “It wouldn’t be a terrible idea.”

“Y’know it’s not legal for _all_ of us to get married,” Sharon points out, giggling.

Sam makes a noncommittal noise. “I mean, but Nat’s not into it, right?” he asks, looking over at her.

“Nope,” she says, very decisively.

“So that’s two and two, that could work,” he continues. “If, y’know. Everybody wanted to.”

“Again, not a horrible idea,” Steve says. “We all love each other. And… well.”

“Wow, very romantic proposal,” teases Bucky. “Great story to tell our grandkids.”

“Oh now hold on a second,” says Natasha. “Where did _they_ come from?”

“Well,” says Sam, “when two people love each other very, very much…”

He doesn’t get to finish, because Natasha whacks him in the face with a pillow.

 

* * *

 

Everyone is lounging around in the backyard, drifting in and out of conversation easily. _Almost_ everyone is happily inebriated or at least in the vicinity. Not Hope, because she’s not interested in breaking the law in front of Wanda’s nice adult friends.

Wanda still jumps a bit when some fireworks suddenly go off in the distance, just loud enough to still be startling. “Sorry,” she says, glancing at the ground.

Hope squeezes Wanda’s hand, shrugging. “It’s okay,” she assures. “Promise.”

“I feel a little silly,” says Wanda shyly.

“Don’t,” Hope murmurs. “Could I… a little closer?” She shifts a bit to suggest cuddling to whatever degree.

“That sounds nice,” Wanda says, moving closer and resting her head on Hope’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hope replies, leaning her head against Wanda’s. “This is… good.”

Jarvis smiles and says quietly to Ana, “Well, everyone seems to be having a very nice time.”

She nods. “I almost don’t want to have to ask them to leave when the night’s done,” she says. “Everyone seems very peaceful.”

“Well, perhaps we might have a few of them to stay the night sometime,” Jarvis suggests. “Not tonight, I haven’t cleaned, but, sometime.”

“Our accidental family delights you,” Ana declares smugly.

Jarvis chuckles. “I suppose it does, yes.”

Angie sidles over to Jarvis and nudges him, whispering, “Hey, so I’m planning on doing it soon, okay?”

“Very well,” says Jarvis, “I’ll go and be sure the cake is ready.” He disappears into the house.

Angie grins. “Here we go,” she says, winking at Ana before casually reaching into the pocket of her skirt and going to stand in front of Peggy’s chair, then getting down on one knee.

Peggy immediately turns her attention away from Sousa and Violet (who are busy inventing constellations like the lovable nerds they are) and stares at Angie. “Oh, hell,” she says, mostly under her breath.

“What?” Angie asks, grinning. “Why d’you say that, Peg?”

“I was going to do that,” Peggy says with a little laugh, fishing in her pocket.

“Well, how about I do mine and then you can do yours?” says Angie with a giggle.

Peggy nods. “By all means, darling.”

Angie takes a deep breath and holds out the ring box, but then she starts giggling again. “Aw, fuck it, I’ll read it to you later, I wrote it down. You know what I’m asking and you know why. Marry me, English?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” Peggy says, pulling out her own box. “I’ll marry you if you marry me.”

“Sounds good,” says Angie, standing up to give Peggy a kiss.

Sousa starts clapping, which prompts Violet to nudge him playfully. “Really?” she asks, and his only reply is a cheerful shrug.

Jarvis emerges from the house, holding a cake. “Congratulations!” he says, smiling. Red letters cheerfully wish _Congratulations Peggy & Angie!_

“She roped you into this?” Peggy exclaims, laughing.

“She asked if I would be willing to make something to celebrate the occasion,” replies Jarvis.

“She made sure she had everything covered,” Peggy says admiringly. “Better than me, I was just going to take the ring out and hope something halfway decent came out of my mouth.”

“Aw, Peg,” says Angie. “I would’ve said yes no matter what. Here’s your ring,” she adds, offering the box. “I kinda feel like maybe slipping them on each other is a little silly, at this point.”

“Maybe,” Peggy agrees, laughing. “Here’s yours, too.”

Angie slips it on her finger, grinning. “Wow, does it sparkle! You know me,” she says fondly.

“I should hope I do,” Peggy smirks, bumping Angie’s shoulder.

Pietro, watching from where he’s wandering around with another sparkler, tilts his head, a little confused, then calls, “Good luck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skye's gifts:  
> [the power station](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/huhv/)  
> [the screwdriver](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/inis/)  
> [the sleep shirt](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/iotg/)  
> [the bracelets](https://www.etsy.com/listing/164882137/original-drift-compatible-bracelet-set) (which we definitely have)


	102. a dream needs believing to taste like the real thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiaying has Skye and her friends come out to San Fransokyo for a weekend, where they also meet up with Tadashi's group again.

“Hey!” calls Lincoln, waving at the group as they come toward him.

“I assume this is Pikachu?” Bobbi says to Skye.

Skye nods, rolling her eyes and grinning before waving back. “Hey, Lincoln!” she calls. “How are things?”

“Pretty good,” he replies, offering her a high five, which she returns. “Twenty-three, huh? I remember myself at that age, so young and carefree…”

Skye snorts and whacks him on the arm. “Hey, you’re only two years older than I am, you don’t get to pull the ‘older and wiser’ card.”

“Don’t I?” he teases.

Bobbi clears her throat pointedly, raising her eyebrow until Skye looks her way. (Jemma giggles, almost uncontrollably.)

“Oh. Right. Lincoln, you know Jemma, Fitz, Trip, and this is Bobbi.” Skye nudges Bobbi. “She’s, uh, my, uh…”

“Third,” Bobbi says smoothly, and if Lincoln looks he’ll notice she’s got her hand in Jemma’s back pocket.

He doesn’t look, and just gives Skye a confused expression. “Third what?”

Instead of answering, Skye smirks and gets on tiptoe to pull Bobbi into a kiss.

Still confused, Lincoln just says, “Oh.”

“Shall we head?” Skye asks, still looking smug.

“It’s a lovely drive,” Jemma pipes up, grinning at Bobbi. “Very scenic.”

 

* * *

 

“It’ll just be a sec,” Lincoln says apologetically as he opens his door. “I mean, if you guys wanna come in you can. You could meet Marmalade.”

“Marmalade is…?” Bobbi asks. She sort of remembers, but she’s sort of fucking with him. (Jemma, who’s been squished in next to Bobbi the whole car ride, is enjoying this thoroughly.)

“My dumb cat,” says Lincoln fondly. “He came to the back balcony like six months ago and started meowing every day until I let him in. He’s basically useless.”

“Well, at least he’s more sociable than our cat,” chimes in Fitz. “Griffith doesn’t like anyone but us. I can’t imagine her meowing at anybody’s back door.”

“I can’t imagine her going outside to be at a back door in the first place,” Jemma points out.

Trip laughs. “Alright, let’s go in and meet this friendly dumb cat.”

The first thing Skye says once they’re inside is “Oh my god, you live in the apartment from _The Room.”_

Lincoln frowns. “Uh, sorry?”

“God. I’m gonna have to send you a copy or something. It’s this legendarily bad movie, and the apartment the main guy lives in is super weird, and it looks a crazy amount like your apartment.”

“Holy shit, it even has the stupid staircase,” Bobbi remarks. To Lincoln she adds, “Terrible things happen on that staircase.”

“Like...what?”

“Sex things,” Jemma says with a smile.

“Oh,” says Lincoln. “Gotcha.” He starts heading up the stairs, then there’s a loud _meow_ and a fat orange tabby ambles down the stairs, tail quirked.

“Hey there,” Skye says, offering her finger to sniff. “I’m guessing this is Marmalade?”

“Yup,” says Lincoln. “Don’t let him sit on you, he won’t move. I’ll be right back.” He continues up the stairs.

Trip kneels down to pet the cat. “Definitely different from Griffith,” he teases Fitz.

“And about twice her size,” Fitz adds.

“I’m fairly sure Griffith would fit _inside_ him,” Jemma snarks, but she leans to pet Marmalade anyhow.

“Okay!” Lincoln calls, coming back down the stairs holding a large wrapped box. “Move along, your highness,” he says to Marmalade, “we’re leaving again.”

“Oh bai house,” Bobbi deadpans.

“I did naht hit her! I did naaaaaht,” chimes in Skye.

“ _What_?” Lincoln asks.

“Dude, seriously,” says Skye, shaking her head, “you gotta watch the movie.”

 

* * *

 

They spend the entire car ride making references to _The Room_ , which only serves to embarrass and confuse Lincoln more, and by the time they arrive at Jiaying’s office building, he’s an interesting shade of red.

“We’re here,” he says, gesturing inside.

They all head inside, and Jiaying meets them at her office door. “Should we hug?” she asks Skye, smiling a bit.

“Uh, sure,” Skye says, smiling too. She leans forward awkwardly to hug Jiaying. “Yikes, this is awkward, sorry.”

“There are worse things,” Jiaying says cheerfully, stepping back and nodding to the others. “Jemma, Fitz, Trip, hello! And you must be…”

“That’s Bobbi!” says Skye, a bit nervous. “She’s, I mean, I told you about her.”

Jiaying nods, trying not to smirk. “It’s a pleasure,” she says.

“Likewise,” Bobbi replies. “You’ve got quite the place here.”

“It really is,” calls… a smug-looking redhead at the front desk, who grins at Bobbi.

“I think I missed the intro blurb,” Bobbi says, tilting her head.

“Alisha Cardona-Whitley,” said redhead drawls, popping out from behind the desk and sauntering over to shake hands. “I’d like to think I’m the girl Friday this operation needs.”

“But not the one we deserve?” Lincoln says, smirking.

“You be the judge,” Alisha replies airily. “You weren’t here last summer.”

“No,” Bobbi agrees, amused as all fuck at the way the other woman is eyeing her. “Relationships hadn’t quite developed to the same extent. I’m Bobbi.”

“Well, that’s intriguing and vague,” Alisha declares, smirking.

Lincoln frowns. “Not _that_ interesting,” he mutters under his breath.

Meanwhile, Skye calls, “Hi Gordon! Bobbi, that’s Gordon, he works with my mom too.” Gordon nods and smiles in their direction.

“Lincoln, you should go get, you know,” Jiaying says, raising an eyebrow in the world’s least convincing attempt at subtlety, “the thing. In the other room.”

Lincoln’s still pouting about Alisha and just nods and shuffles off out the door. Bobbi’s incredibly mature response to this is to nudge Jemma and smirk, which Jemma returns, which when they look over that direction Alisha has noticed.

“Do I want to know?” Jiaying asks Skye quietly.

Skye shrugs. “We were making jokes about his apartment looking like a movie on the way over here, I dunno.”

“It’s not always clear with him,” Jiaying sighs.

Jemma coughs and then waves, just this side of overly eager. “Hello!” she exclaims. “Our flight was acceptable. Not, I suppose, that anyone asked, but it… was.”

Skye grabs her hand and squeezes. “You made a good pillow though,” she teases.

“Nasty,” Bobbi says cheerfully.

“And so did you,” adds Skye, grinning.

“It’s nice to see you again, Jiaying,” says Fitz, looking embarrassed to be seen with the three of them.

Jiaying (who’s more amused than anything) nods graciously. “And you,” she says. “I’m glad you were all able to fly out.”

“Yeah, thank you for the tickets,” Trip replies. “Very generous of you.”

Lincoln comes back in, holding a cake box. “On the table?” he asks.

“That would be best,” Jiaying agrees. Before she even has to ask, Alisha zips over to the front desk, then returns with two tiny boxes, which Jiaying sets about opening. “Ah, it might be a bit foolish, but I…” She opens the cake box, sticks two giant number candles in, and smiles, just a bit apprehensively. “It occurred to me I owe you some of these.”

It’s not even a fancy cake, it’s literally just from Safeway or something and airbrushed with blue and has red icing around the edges and has _Happy birthday Skye_ scrawled under a pair of plastic Transformers, but Skye realizes she’s tearing up a little anyway. “Ah, jeez,” she says, swiping at her eyes. “Thank you, this is...really nice.”

“I figured, ah, those are… sort of close? To your Jaegers?” Jiaying sounds more uncertain than she has in all the time Gordon and Alisha and Lincoln have known her.

“They’re great. They’re...I love them.” Skye hesitates for a second, then half-runs over to hug Jiaying again.

That, of course, makes Jiaying tear up too, patting Skye’s shoulder twice before deciding it’s weird. “Would you like to make a wish?” she asks, nodding to the candles. “Lincoln can grab a lighter, I think there’s one at the front desk.”

“Yeah,” says Skye, laughing a little awkwardly, “that’d be good.” Lincoln jogs out to get it.

Once Skye’s blown out the candles and everyone’s gotten a slice, they find places to sit or stand while eating. “How are things?” Jiaying asks in earnest. “You know, at the… mall.” And in Skye’s life in general, but that’s a safe place to start.

“Not bad,” Skye says. “Well, Kara told us last weekend that her shitty ex broke out of jail, so, uh, that’s a situation.”

“Um,” says Lincoln. “She’s that girl whose ex literally put her in the hospital, right?”

Bobbi purses her lips, nodding. “It was awful,” she says flatly. “I kicked his ass multiple times, and I’ll kick his ass again if I see him near her.”

Skye smiles proudly at her before looking serious again. “So yeah, she says she’s got someone there to protect her but it might turn into something bad again.”

“And your police officers won’t be much help, I assume,” Jiaying says with a disapproving frown.

Trip shakes his head. “Some of the cops are his Nazi friends, and we don’t know which. So we try not to involve them.”

“Good call,” says Gordon wryly.

“Which is sort of what led to the kicking his ass,” Bobbi says wryly. “Vigilante justice or something.”

“Make sure she has my number, just in case,” Jiaying murmurs.

Skye nods. “Will do. We’re gonna watch her too.”

It’s quiet for a long, awkward moment and then Jemma exclaims, “Summer classes are mad!”

Skye laughs. “For you guys, maybe. I’ve just got a blowoff class for my last few credits and then I’m all done.”

Fitz huffs. “Yes, well, that’s all very nice for _you._ ”

“Oh!” Jiaying exclaims. “So you’ll be graduating soon?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Skye says, like she hasn’t really thought about it. “In the winter maybe? I could’ve done it in May, I guess, but I didn’t want to go through all the bullshit.”

“Still, that’s wonderful,” Jiaying says, beaming. “I’m sure it will be a relief.”

“Yeah. I might be up for a promotion at work once I’m done too. I mean, they mentioned it anyway.”

“You’ll get it,” says Fitz. “You’re the best we’ve got.” Skye smiles at him.

“Also just generally the best,” Jemma adds, which makes Skye grin even wider and kiss her on the cheek.

“How exciting,” Jiaying says with a smile of her own.

“So a promotion at the Apple store, you go from telling customers about tech to telling other people how to tell customers about tech?” Alisha asks.

Skye snorts. “Basically, yeah. But hey, I’m moving up in the world, or something.”

“And then you can join the manager club,” Bobbi says, smirking. “It’s thrilling stuff. All the fun extra meetings, being in on the drama.”

“Oh yeah?” Lincoln asks, challenging her a little. “What do _you_ do?”

She shrugs cheerfully. “Perpetrate one of the mall’s greatest ironies and help run one of the mall’s biggest girls’ clubs while making sure nobody in my store commits fili-, fratri-, matri-, patri-, soro-, or any other kind of -cide,” she declares.

He blinks. “I see.”

Skye and Jemma giggle. “Daughter, brother, mother, father, sister,” Jemma says sweetly for Lincoln’s perceived benefit.

That makes Lincoln grunt a reply, which makes Alisha and Gordon smirk at his discomfort.

 

* * *

 

“Skye!” yelps Hiro, running to practically jump into her arms and hug her tightly.

“Oof, jesus, kid,” grunts Skye, returning the hug. “I’m happy to see you too, but don’t bowl me over.”

“He hasn’t been able to talk about anything else all week,” says Tadashi, ambling up. “We’ve all missed you guys.”

“We have!” Honey exclaims, moving to get a round of hugs herself. “And you brought the famous Bobbi, how wonderful!”

Bobbi smirks. “Not every day I get to be _famous_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You certainly are that,” says Gogo, nodding a greeting.

“So what’s the plan?” Trip asks. “I mean, we figured you guys would have some ideas of what to do.”

“Wandering?” Honey asks eagerly. “Sometimes the city is the most fun to see when you don’t have an exact plan.”

“Cool!” Skye says, grinning. “Oh, also, Jiaying says you’re all invited to dinner tonight, if you wanna come.”

Tadashi smiles. “Thanks. We’ll be there.”

“I like free food!” Fred chimes in.

“I’m sure you do,” Bobbi says, not unkindly.

Hiro tilts his head a bit. “So are you her other girlfriend or something?” he asks Bobbi.

“Hiro!” Honey exclaims, looking mortified.

“It’s okay,” Bobbi chuckles. “Girlfriend or something is a pretty good way to explain it.”

Wasabi laughs. “I mean, we kind of figured, but we didn’t want to assume because that’s weird? But we didn’t know how to ask?”

Skye shrugs. “It’s kind of hard to explain, but yeah, basically.”

There’s a round of introductions, and then they set off toward the streetcar station. They end up on a stretch of street where there’s a lot of shops, just wandering. There’s a jewelry place that’s full of locally made stuff, there’s a coffeehouse where Hiro insists they get pastries, and then Bobbi, in a very nonchalant tone of voice, announces, “Oh, look, Good Vibrations.”

Skye follows her gaze and then says, “Oh,” in the same sort of nonchalant voice.

Tadashi, who knows exactly what’s going on, says, “Hey, I’m gonna go check out that bookstore a little way down, anyone wanna come?”

“Yes,” says Fitz immediately, looking grateful.

Trip laughs and nods, adding, “I’ll tag along too.”

“Not me! I wanna go to Good Vibrations,” says Fred, grinning. “Sounds like a cool place.”

“Um,” Jemma says, glancing between her girlfriends. “Yes, let’s…” And here she raises her eyebrows symbolically, attempting to imply _let’s leave him at the door and reconvene._

Skye smirks. “Yeah, let’s head in. We’ll meet up with you guys when we’re done?” she asks the boys, who (aside from Fred) seem to have all decided to go to the bookstore.

“Bye!” calls Hiro as they start walking.

Honey nudges Gogo pointedly. “We should go and… ah, interference…?” she suggests, nodding at Fred pretty obviously. It’s the nice thing to do!

Gogo chuckles. “Sure. I’ve been meaning to come here anyway.”

“Oh!” Honey squeaks. “Yes. For… for science.”

Gogo just smirks.

“I do believe I still owe you half of a birthday present,” Bobbi whispers to Skye as they head inside.

“Oh yeah?” Skye asks, smirking. “What sort of present?”

“I was sort of thinking you could decide that,” Bobbi murmurs.

“ _Ooh_ ,” says Skye playfully. “Sounds fun. Does this have something to with that thing we talked about?”

“The thing,” Jemma echoes, voice chirpy.

“Well, that’s the implication,” Bobbi says suggestively.

Skye snickers. “Okay. So, I’d probably better head over this way,” she teases, walking towards the section of the shop that sells the leather and BDSM goods.

By this point, Jemma is swinging Skye’s hand like the proverbial kid in the candy shop. “Love you,” she whispers, because it seems like the thing to do.

“Love you too,” murmurs Skye. “And thanks, Bobbi.”

Bobbi nods. “I’m still exercising veto power, potentially, but it seems like it could be an interesting time,” she says with a casual shrug.

“Cool.” Skye glances over the section. “So is this for me to use on you, or…?”

Another shrug. “Possibly,” Bobbi says.

“Okay. Any hard nos?”

“Tying me down,” Bobbi declares. “We can negotiate a little light whatever, but I’m not… I top for a reason. I don’t thrill at helplessness.”

Jemma, who rather does, goes pink, and Skye squeezes her hand before saying, “No big. I think honey would get a little jealous anyway, huh?”

“I wouldn’t wanna steal her show,” Bobbi teases, bumping Jemma’s shoulder. “Besides, one girl tied to the bed can be hot. Two is usually excessive.”

Skye snickers. “You know this from experience?”

“Not exactly,” Bobbi says. “It’s more fun when there’s middle ground, though, don’t you think?” This question is posed for Skye because, well, usually she’s the one who inhabits that.

Chuckling, Skye nods. “I think so. But it’ll be fun to mix it up a little.” She turns to the section of blindfolds, making a thoughtful noise in her throat.

“What are you thinking?” Jemma asks softly, staring with just a bit of awe.

“Not entirely sure yet,” Skye says, “but I’m starting to get some ideas. Bobbi?” She nods at the blindfolds.

“Could do,” Bobbi muses. “I mean, I’m not opposed.”

Skye looks at the leather ones for a minute or two before picking up one that’s black and apparently made of silk. “How about this?”

Thoughtfully, Bobbi reaches out to touch it. “So far, so good.”

“Yeah? I kinda like the idea of you needing me to tell you what to do,” says Skye with a smirk.

Jemma promptly turns to moan into Skye’s shoulder.

“And it seems like she likes it too,” Skye adds mischievously, reaching up to run her other hand through Jemma’s hair.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god,” Gogo mutters, “I think you’re supposed to stick your dick in this.”

“Why?” Honey whispers, horrified.

It’s a vaguely teardrop-shaped contraption, with a large hole toward the top, inside which is a circle of silicone tabs that look like, well, tongues. Gogo tilts her head. “Maybe it’s supposed to feel like a blowjob? I dunno. I don’t have a dick, maybe it feels good if you do.”

Fred, who’s standing close enough that he can hear them, calls, “That does _not_ sound like a good time for the ol’ trouser snake to me.”

Honey puts her head in her hands. “I could have gone my life without hearing that.”

Gogo snorts. “Fred, why don’t you go play with the display vibrators?”

“Okay!” he says cheerfully. “I like the way they make my fingers tingle.”

“He’s a little ridiculous,” Honey sighs.

“He always is.” Gogo shrugs and wanders over to a display with one particular model in several different colors. “Is this seriously called the Womanizer?”

Honey scrunches up her nose. “Apparently they don’t have dictionaries?”

“Or the internet,” snorts Gogo. “The giant fake jewel is a nice touch.”

“That looks like you could buy it at the craft store,” Honey declares.

“Seriously.” Gogo looks over several less bizarre vibrators before picking a deep blue one and turning it on cautiously. When it starts to “wave” slowly back and forth, she just says, “Huh.”

“Why is it beckoning to us?” Honey murmurs.

“Hell if I know.” Gogo turns it off quickly and puts it down. “I just want something simple, no bullshit.”

“Something like…?”

Gogo shrugs. “Something like this, I guess,” she says, grabbing a smaller purple vibrator with a curved tip. “Just does what it’s supposed to.”

“Well, that is practical,” Honey agrees, giggling a bit.

Gogo smiles a bit, shuffles her foot awkwardly, then asks, “Are you getting anything?” It’s uncharacteristically shy.

Honey blushes. “I… might?” she squeaks.

“Sorry,” mutters Gogo, “that was weird. Forget it.”

“It wasn’t weird!” Honey exclaims. “I mean, we’re… here. So.”

Gogo nods. “I mean. Yeah. We could...turn this into an experiment, maybe. For science.”

“For science,” Honey repeats slowly. “That’s… that would be fun, maybe. How?”

“You could get one and I could get one and we could see how long it takes each of us?”

That’s not what Honey was expecting to hear, and she definitely isn’t expecting to make it sound _sultry_ when she replies, “That wouldn’t be a very good experiment, though. I mean, variables… could mean that one of us just… you know, is faster. Naturally. Or something. We could… both try both of them, though, average our results.”

Gogo’s very carefully using her poker face. “Good point. That would make more sense. Um. I mean, if that wouldn’t be too weird.”

“Nothing is too weird for science,” Honey says, trying to sound assured.

“Okay. So, uh, I guess pick something out? This is forty bucks, so around there.”

Honey bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I’m… I mean, it should be something different than yours, kind of,” she says, starting to really look around. “For science. Hm.”

“What gets you off?” asks Gogo quietly, and immediately looks as if she maybe wants to light herself on fire.

“Well, y’know, uh.” Honey stops, because no, Gogo _doesn’t_ know, for one she just asked and for another why would she know a thing like that. “I kind of like… clitoris things?”

“Okay,” says Gogo with a smirk, “so maybe one of the smaller ones.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Honey agrees. “Not too small, though. My hand-eye coordination gets kind of shot when I…” She trails off, because she can have this conversation but she can’t, apparently, actually say “orgasm” yet.

Gogo laughs, a little awkwardly. “Maybe a rabbit? Those are insertable so they don’t go anywhere.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Honey agrees. “Like…” She picks up a purple silicone rabbit, somewhat unsure.

Shrugging, Gogo says, “Dunno. That could do.”

“It seems like a good option,” Honey nods. “Let’s… do that.”

“Okay.” Gogo grips her vibrator a little too tightly and doesn’t quite look Honey in the eyes. “Sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

“Gogo got her bike working and it’s so cool!” chatters Hiro as they enter the lab. “She’s actually got _two_! But she says she won’t race me,” he adds with a pout.

“Kid, you’re not even old enough to drive a car yet,” says Gogo with a smirk. “Hold your horses.” Hiro sticks out his tongue at her.

“I wanna see these,” Bobbi murmurs. “What’s their deal, exactly?”

“Zero mag suspension on the wheels,” replies Gogo. “Gets killer speed.”

“Ooh,” Bobbi says.

“Oh dear,” Jemma mouths at Skye.

“You wanna take her for a spin?” Gogo asks, eyes glinting. “You, I presume, are old enough to know how to ride a bike.”

“Hey!” protests Hiro.

“I’m old enough for most interesting things,” Bobbi drawls, smirking. “Could I?”

Gogo nods. “Wanna race?”

A little while later, they’ve secured a mostly empty parking lot and both of them are wearing appropriate gear, with Wasabi holding an old shirt up as the “flag.” “Are we sure this won’t end in disaster?” he says to Tadashi, who just laughs and shakes his head.

“She knows how to do this, right?” Honey whispers to Jemma.

“As far as I know?” Jemma replies. “So it… might be all right.”

Wasabi drops the flag, then covers his face with both hands (and peeks through his fingers) as both bikes roar off across the pavement.

It’s a close race, but Gogo wins by a foot. “Not bad,” she says to Bobbi, once they’ve both stopped and removed their helmets. “Too bad you can’t stick around for more than a couple days.”

“I bet if I had a little more practice you’d be singing a different song,” Bobbi replies, but it’s with a big, good-natured smile.

“Maybe,” replies Gogo, offering her hand for a shake, and Bobbi accepts it.

“We’d like kisses, please,” Jemma announces, dragging Skye up to where Bobbi stands.

“Oh would we?” Bobbi laughs, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” says Skye, who knows exactly what Bobbi’s doing. “That’d be nice.”

“I could oblige,” Bobbi muses, but she doesn’t move to do yet.

Skye rolls her eyes. “Pretty please?” she asks, pouting exaggeratedly.

“Fine, fine,” Bobbi laughs, and she moves in to kiss them one after the other.

Without saying anything, and before Gogo can protest, Honey runs up to hug her.

 

* * *

 

“Skye, Jemma,” Jiaying says, nodding between them. “I couldn’t help but notice your bracelets, though I didn’t get a good look at them.”

Jemma blushes bashfully, smiling, and Skye smiles. “So you know how in _Pacific Rim_ there were two pilots and they called it drifting, and they had to be drift compatible to control the Jaegers?” She takes off her bracelet and hands it to Jiaying. “She got us a matching set, ‘cause, well, she’s my copilot.”

“Aren’t they disgusting?” Bobbi asks fondly.

“I think they’re adorable,” Jiaying declares. “You’re both quite lucky.”

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs, reaching to squeeze Skye’s hand.

“I definitely am,” says Skye, kissing Jemma’s cheek. “And yes, we _are_ disgusting,” she says smugly to Bobbi.

Hiro pokes Tadashi in the arm and whispers, “Can I have a sip of the fancy wine?”

Tadashi chuckles. “I’m not dealing with the fury of Aunt Cass if you come home drunk, so no.”

“Aw man. Worth a try.” Hiro shrugs and sips his soda.

“Oh, hey, so you guys haven’t heard the latest about the Baymax movie,” Tadashi says, addressing Skye’s friends. “They’re really excited about it, and they’re gonna try to get it out by next year sometime. They sent over some character sketches and stuff for us to approve.”

“That’s so awesome!” Skye says. “D’you still have them, or…?”

“Sorry, NDA.” Tadashi smiles apologetically.

“I get to breath fire!” says Fred with a wide grin.

“Beg pardon?” says Fitz, eyes wide.

Fred closes his eyes and smiles mysteriously. “Can’t tell you any more. You’ll have to wait and see.”

“So, like, what exactly is this movie _about_?” Trip asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you said it’s the Baymax movie, but firebreathing...last I checked, he doesn’t do that.”

Tadashi shrugs. “They haven’t given me an official plot summary yet, but some of the sketches had weird costumes? I don’t know if I’m allowed to say more than that.”

“Weird as in breathing fire?” Jemma asks, tilting her head.

“I had a really cool purse,” Honey says cheerfully. “Bright pink. Bubbles. Hearts.”

“This movie sounds kind of weird,” Skye says, “but I wanna know what the hell it is.”

“Definitely more intriguing than most Disney flicks,” Bobbi agrees.

“Do you have a lawyer yet?” Jiaying asks Tadashi.

Tadashi shakes his head, obviously surprised. “Uh, no. Should I?”

“It wouldn’t be a horrible idea,” she says. “I can email you some recommendations?”

“That’d be good,” Tadashi says. “You need my email?”

“I can get it from Skye.”

“Cool.”

“Oh hey,” Hiro says, elbowing his brother, “you brought the thing for Skye, right?”

“Would I forget it?” Tadashi asks, pulling a wrapped box from under the table and handing it over towards Skye. “We all pitched in to make this for you. Happy birthday!”

Skye eagerly opens the box, pulling out a small robot that looks like a cross between Hiro’s Megabot and Gyspy Danger. “Oh my god, you guys!”

“Here, lemma show you what it can do,” Hiro says, “gimme the controller.” Once she’s set the robot on the table he has it stand up and walk around a bit, chest glowing, then extends one arm and a tiny sword flicks out from its compartment.

“This is so awesome,” yelps Skye, “lemme try!”

“Press this button,” Honey exclaims, indicating.

Skye does, and a jet of water sprays across the table. “Holy shit!”

“Have fun annoying small animals,” Gogo says with a smirk.

“Oh goodie,” says Fitz, with all the enthusiasm of a man anticipating periodic jets of water in the face in his future.

“So,” Wasabi chimes in, “we were thinking of taking you guys to the California Academy of Sciences tomorrow, how about it?”

“Yes!” Jemma yelps. “I mean. If. If you want to, Skye.”

“Oh, I so do!” Skye says, as the robot narrowly avoids a collision with the wine bottle. “Shit! You guys good with that?”

Trip nods. “Sounds fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vibrators referenced: [Sqweel XT](http://www.sqweel.com/lovehoney-sqweel-xt/), [Womanizer](http://www.goodvibes.com/s/sex-toys/p/GV14389/womanizer/womanizer-deluxe-rechargeable-clitoral-stimulator?lref=Srch%7Cwomanizer%7Ca%7C1%7Cc%7C0%7C-relevance%7Csearch_page%7C0), [Mona Wave](https://www.lelo.com/mona-wave), [Curve Petite Vibrator](http://www.goodvibes.com/s/sex-toys/p/1-2-BA-1204/jopen/curve-petite-silicone-vibrator-by-jopen?lref=Cat%7Ccatalog70002_gv112%7C%7C35%7Cc%7C0%7C-currpop%7Csearch_page%7C0), and [Jack Rabbit One Touch Vibrator](http://www.goodvibes.com/s/sex-toys/p/GV13745/cal-exotics/jack-rabbit-one-touch-vibrator?lref=Cat%7Ccatalog70002_gv103%7C%7C15%7Cc%7C0%7C-relevance%7Ctoy_category%7C0).
> 
> Precedes [ ‘cause we got our own plan and we can’t slow down, we’re wide awake in a sleepy town](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/17028102).


	103. who now shouts at the top of her voice let me go, let me out, this is not my choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara finds an unexpected note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: general creepiness, a scene of a menacing Nazi.

When Kara gets into the office, coffee in hand, the first thing she notices is an envelope propped on her keyboard. “Uh,” she says, loudly enough she’s clearly hoping someone will hear. “Where did this come from?”

Nobody answers immediately, so she picks it up. No postage stamp, which isn’t a good sign. And it only takes her a second to catch the scent of Ed Hardy Skulls & Roses drifting from the envelope.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” she starts muttering, ripping it open with shaking hands.

_ I miss you so much. I’ll see you soon. _

“Shit.”

“Kara?” Irani calls as she and Garthan enter the office. “Is something the matter?”

Wordlessly, Kara holds out the letter.

Irani takes it, reads it, then looks at Kara. “Is it him?”

“His handwriting, his douchebag cologne,” Kara says bitterly.

“What’s the matter?” asks Garthan, looking puzzled.

“It’s a stalker mash note from my ex,” Kara snaps.

“Oh dear.” He looks startled. “I, ah, I was here when someone brought it for you earlier, but the gentleman in question wasn’t, er, that is, he was, he looked…”

“Garthan,” says Irani, “please get to the point.”

“Well, a gentleman with spiky blonde hair brought it about a half hour ago,” says Garthan awkwardly. “He was a little abrupt, I suppose, but I didn’t see anything that…”

“Why the  _ fuck  _ would you let anyone do that!” Kara shrieks, wadding the note up and sitting down on the sofa with a thump.

Garthan grimaces. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I suppose.”

Irani sighs. “Garthan, I think it might be best for you to take your break now. And Kara…” She puts out a hand as if to comfort Kara, then seems to think better of it. “If you’d like to leave early today, I understand completely.”

Kara sighs heavily. “Maybe. I’ll think about it. Honestly, stupidity aside I feel safer here than I do most places.”

“Alright,” Irani replies. “Do you have someone to, ah, make sure you get home safely?”

“Karen can come get me,” Kara shrugs. “Makes sense, that he’d send someone to infiltrate when she wouldn’t be here to catch it.”  Which also means, and she’s none too happy about this, that Grant knows their schedules.

Irani shakes her head. “I thought we were rid of him for good. I’ll have to inform Nicholas that it’s likely there’s been a breach of some kind.”

“I’m pretty sure we won’t be rid of him until the planet is rid of him,” Kara mutters.

“I fear you’re right,” sighs Irani. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Honestly, just something to do would be welcome,” Kara says.

 

* * *

Jemma is idling at the counter, tidying the space around the till, when a customer approaches. It’d be tempting to foist him off on a coworker, since she can already tell he’s going to be one of the uncomfortable ones, but there’s nobody in sight.

“Welcome to MaggieMoo’s, how can I help you?” she chirps.

“Ooh, if you kept talking that would help me plenty,” replies the man, who has spiky blond hair and the douchiest expression Jemma has ever seen. “I like that accent.”

She works very hard not to roll her eyes. “Search YouTube for ‘Yorkshire accent,’ I’m sure there’ll be plenty to suit you,” she says, trying for cheery.

“Yeah, but they won’t be half so nice-looking as you,” he continues, grinning. “Can I have a scoop of Red Bull sorbet? And maybe a smile?”

“Red Bull sorbet coming up,” she replies with the most strained grimace, drifting toward the tubs.

“Ah, c’mon, you can smile better than that,” he coaxes.

Jemma takes a deep breath, then watches mostly their hands as she hands him the sorbet. “Would you believe I’m not actually trained to grin on command?” she asks, reaching for his credit card.

And then she notices the rather ostentatious ring on his left hand. It’s practically a signet ring, except instead of anything familial or noble it’s a very familiar octopus.

“Yes, well, have a good day,” she mutters, handing him his receipt and doing her best to hurry him off.

He looks as if he’s about to say something else, but just then Skye appears as if by magic and calls, “Hey, Jem! This guy bothering you?”

“Manscaping,” Jemma squeaks, her expression desperate.

Skye narrows her eyes. “Alright. Hey man, how about you go enjoy that somewhere else?” She waves her hand impatiently. “Grown-ups are talking.”

He splutters, but Skye steps in front of him and says to Jemma, “How’s your day been?” Finally he storms off, grunting “Bitch” under his breath.

“Okay, until that,” Jemma sighs. “I don’t know who he was, but he wasn’t exactly a gentleman and also,” she adds, lowering her voice, “probably a Nazi.”

“What?” Skye’s eyes dart to the guy, then back to Jemma.

“He had a stupid octopus ring,” Jemma whispers. “It’s about time for me to clock out, let me do that and we can talk more.”

“Okay.” Skye blows her a kiss and then wanders away to play with her phone while she waits.

Jemma’s out in a few minutes. “Well, I told my manager approximately what the fellow looked like, and his name, so hopefully that helps,” she says, sighing.

Skye takes her hand and kisses it. “Yeah. You doing okay?”

“Yes,” Jemma says immediately.  “I mean. I’m a bit shook up, all things considered, but.”

“You did good,” murmurs Skye, squeezing her hand. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

They head toward the parking garage, where they’re meeting Bobbi, and Skye doesn’t notice they’re being followed until they’re in the stairwell and she glances back to see the Nazi hovering a little ways behind them. “Fuck,” she breathes in Jemma’s ear. “He’s behind us.”

“Shit,” Jemma echoes, speeding up and pulling Skye with her.

Unfortunately, he’s able to keep pace with them, and once they’re actually in the garage he calls, “Couldn’t help but notice you girls are all alone.”

“Sod off,” Jemma yells, glancing around for potential exits.

“Hey, there’s no need for language,” he says, smirking. “We’re just gonna talk a bit.”

Jemma, who’s fairly sure she can hear her heart beating in her ears, squeezes Skye’s hand rather frantically. “I’m pretty sure we’re not,” says Skye, stepping in front of Jemma. “Also we’re not alone, I’ve got my phone right here and we’ve got another person waiting to meet us. And she’s not afraid to kick your ass.”

“That’s cute, how you think that makes you safe,” the Nazi says, stepping closer. “C’mere.” He reaches for Skye’s arm.

Which is when Skye takes the opportunity to give him a solid kick in the stomach, sending him doubling over with a grunt of pain and surprise.

 

* * *

“I guess we’re on the clock,” Kara sighs, nodding to the crumpled-up note at the top of the full recycling bin.

“On the clock to him getting his ass kicked, maybe,” Bobbi frowns. “To the whole damn gang getting their asses kicked. Again.”

“That’d be nice,” Kara says drearily.

“He’s not gonna get to you, okay?” Bobbi murmurs. “He isn’t. We won’t let him.”

“He’s smarter about this kind of thing than he is about most kinds of things,” Kara says. “He’s a brilliant manipulator. He’s great at finding his way in.”

“Well, we’re better at keeping him out,” Bobbi insists. “I promise. Do you want me to come over, just in case?”

Kara bites her lip. “Like I’ve said, Karen’s over, and she’s ready to murder him, literally,” she says. “She’s picking me up. I think the boys are coming over, too. I’m going to be well-insulated.”

“Don’t hesitate to change your mind, okay?” Bobbi asks, frowning. “Any time.”

“I know,” Kara replies. “I promise I will, but I hope I don’t need  _ that  _ much backup. Anyway, you have your own girls to look after.”

Bobbi smiles ruefully. “Yeah, but still,” she says. “I should go catch up with them, is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” Kara promises. “Irani is here till Karen picks me up. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Bobbi echoes. “Well, text me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Kara laughs, shooing Bobbi off.

 

* * *

Skye’s busy trying to comfort Jemma, who is definitely having a panic attack, and so she almost collapses with relief when she sees Bobbi walk out of the stairwell door. “Bobbi!“ she calls, waving frantically. 

“Fuck,” Bobbi mutters, running over as quick as she can. “What happened? Are you guys okay?”

Skye shakes her head no, rolling her eyes. She knows why Bobbi is asking such a dumb question, but also,  _ really? _

“I know, but still,” Bobbi mutters. She rummages for her keys, unlocks her car, and asks, “Can we get in? Is that going to be okay?”

“All of us in the back for now?” Jemma manages to ask.

“Of course, honey,” Bobbi murmurs. “We should just sit down and take it easy for a little while.”  Carefully, she opens the door and slides across the backseat, waving the other two in.

Skye gently helps Jemma in, keeping a hand on her back. “This fuckface Nazi came and bothered her at work while he was ordering,” she explains, “and then he followed us out here and tried to...I dunno, jump us? Something. I kicked him in the stomach.”

“He was awful,” Jemma exclaims. “Kept saying gross things. Demanding I smile for him.”

Tentatively, Bobbi rests a hand on Jemma’s knee. “Had you seen him before?” she asks quietly.

“No,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “But he had a ring with that stupid bloody octopus.”

Skye runs a hand through her hair soothingly. “He split after I kicked him. But yeah, it was bad.”

“I don’t know what he wanted,” Jemma gasps. “If he was just angry I wouldn’t take his bait, or…”

“No, honey,” says Skye, drawing circles on her back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He was just a shithead who likes making girls uncomfortable.”

“In more ways than one, if my hunch is correct,” Bobbi sighs. “But I’ll only bug you with it if you’re feeling okay.”

“Not sure that would be a great idea at the moment,” Skye says, glancing at Jemma.

Jemma sticks out her chin defiantly. “I want to hear,” she says. “If it’s something we can help with, I’d rather know than not.”

Bobbi pets Jemma’s hair carefully. “Well,” she says, giving an opportunity to back out, “Kara got a stalker note in her office today.”

“Shit!” Jemma exclaims.

“How did he even get it to her?” Skye asks. “I thought he was like, in jail forever.”

“I guess he’s been busy since he busted out,” Bobbi sighs. “What I’m thinking is asshat today might have been the messenger boy.”

“God,” mutters Skye. “If I’d known, I would’ve aimed for his nuts.”

“Hey, you got him away, you did great,” Bobbi says fondly.

“Jemma helped!” Skye replies. 

“Oh?” Bobbi asks, a definite note of pride in her voice.

“She yelled at him before I punched him, and she also told her boss he was there,” explains Skye.

“Aw, good job, honey,” Bobbi exclaims. “You guys are both great.”

“Does Kara need anything?” Jemma asks suddenly.

“Not immediately,” Bobbi says. “She swore she’d let me know if that changes. God, I hope it doesn’t.”

Skye pulls out her phone. “I’m telling the secret internet about this, if that’s okay? They should know.”

Bobbi nods. “That’s definitely appropriate. I doubt any of us are totally safe right now.”


	104. I'm probably waiting outside, such a stubborn man you'll likely never meet another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In light of recent occurrences, everyone makes the necessary preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, a [tl;dr](http://mallversemcu.tumblr.com/post/147761632896/wed-just-like-to-publicly-state-the-point) about why we do what we do.
> 
> If you don't want to read violence, stop after the text messaging.

“D’you want any popcorn, Jemma?” calls Fitz from the kitchen.

“Yes, please,” Jemma says. She’s currently wedged between her girls, like she’s been pretty much any time she’s not at work or in class, and she’s showing no signs of moving.

Skye pets down her back. “Me too!” she chimes in.

Fitz sighs. “You get to put all your nonsense on it.”

“‘s not nonsense,” protests Skye, “it’s delicious bacon-cheddar-nacho popcorn!”

“If someone made it, that means at least some people don’t think it’s nonsense,” Jemma giggles.

“You _also_ think it’s nonsense,” says Fitz, rolling his eyes.

“That isn’t the point,” Jemma says airily.

Trip laughs. “I dunno, I think she’s onto something. I tried it once, it was pretty good.”

“See! Trip gets me.”

“Hey,” Bobbi says, nudging the other two, then kissing both their cheeks. “I need up, I have to put the DVD in.”

“Okay, Bobbi,” Jemma says softly, moving as much as she can.

Skye pets her hair. “She’ll be back in a sec.”

“I know,” Jemma whispers, but she leans closer into Skye anyway.

“Don’t start till we’re there!” yelps Fitz. “Making popcorn for five people isn’t easy!”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, hey, I’m not a cushion,” says Foggy, laughing as he half-heartedly attempts to push Autumn off of where she’s currently trying to flop on him.

“It means she likes you,” Kara says sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“Yeah, well, I like her too, but she’s not exactly lapdog-sized.”

“Let her sit next to you, at least,” Kara suggests. “Pets and scritches never go amiss.”

“Oh, sure.” Foggy finally manages to scoot out from under the dog and reaches over to scratch her behind the ear. “No hard feelings.”

“Foggy’s just not used to anything larger than his hand trying to climb on him,” says Matt wryly.

“That’s a low blow,” Karen exclaims, laughing.

“He means the gerbils,” replies Foggy, “and now I see where _your_ mind is, Page.”

Karen shrugs cheerfully. “Always has been,” she says.

“I, uh, I hope you boys brought sleeping bags,” Kara says, giggling nervously.

Matt shrugs. “I mean, I end up on the floor a lot anyway.”

“ _I_ brought sleeping bags,” says Foggy, “because I knew you’d say that.”

Kara makes a face, because she's legitimately starting to wonder about that, but there’s not really a good way to mention it. Instead she says, “Well, I’ve got pillows, anyway, so that’s something, I guess?”

“I get the beeeed,” Karen singsongs, smirking. There’s no surprise about this, of course, but she’s still enough of a brat to want to rub it in a little.

Matt chuckles. “Well, take into consideration those of us with sensitive hearing. I don’t mean him, he can sleep through a hurricane.”

Foggy makes a mock-offended noise. “The cruelty of it all!”

“We’ll be polite,” Kara promises.

“‘Polite’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘quiet,’” says Foggy skeptically. “Matt had this one girlfriend in undergrad who was plenty _polite_ , but she also-”

“It’ll be fine,” interrupts Matt.

“I mean quiet when I say polite!” Kara exclaims. “In this context.”

“Anyway,” Matt adds, “I should be able to hear anything if, well. Something happens outside. So sensitive hearing is good in this case.”

“Yeah,” Kara murmurs. “Thanks, Matt.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, I guess I’m never getting up again,” grumbles Sam, as Apollo snores, his head resting on Sam’s stomach.

“He’ll probably let you up eventually,” Sharon says brightly.

“Easy for you to say. He never sleeps on _you._ ”

Bucky laughs. “At least he hasn’t started drooling. Dane slobber is a feeling you never forget.”

“Not untrue,” Steve declares. “But I think it’s a worthwhile hazard.”

“Agreed,” says Bucky, scratching Artemis, who’s flopped beside him.

Natasha nestles closer to Sharon and reaches over her to ruffle Bucky’s hair. “The circumstances may be less than ideal, but hey, sleepovers are always fun,” she comments.

“Sleepovers are pretty much normal, anymore,” Sharon points out, because it’s happier.

“Good point,” murmurs Natasha, nuzzling Sharon’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

“You wanna watch anything?” Sif asks as Melinda settles next to her on the couch.

Melinda rests her head on Sif’s shoulder. “Mmm, maybe. Were you thinking of anything in particular?”

“Not really.” Sif flicks on the TV and opens Netflix. “ _Xena_?” _Xena_ is her go-to when she’s not sure what to watch.

Melinda chuckles warmly. “ _Xena_ ’s fine by me.”

Sif selects a random episode and while it’s loading she says, “Thanks for staying over tonight. I mean, not that I don’t think we’re both capable of looking after ourselves…”

“It’s better not to be lonely right now,” says Melinda, her hand wandering up to card through Sif’s hair.

“Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

“I admit, I do feel safer,” Maya says with a little smile.

Maria snorts. “The guns are all locked up, but I’m glad to help, I suppose.”

“It’s psychological,” Maya shrugs.

Maria pulls her a little closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she says, half-joking.

“I’m counting on it,” Maya says, not joking at all.

With a chuckle, Maria kisses her. “So as for a distraction,” she purrs, “you up for fooling around a little?”

“Well, I did make sure to finish all my homework,” Maya replies.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve alerted him to the danger,” Raina says, nodding toward the door as an indication of the rest of the house, where sits a functionally anonymous musclebound heartthrob.

“He’s well aware danger may come knocking,” Lorelei agrees with a serious nod. “He’s well aware said danger is, in fact, even scarier than a meth dealer with a bad hat.”

“And he knows that if said danger arrives, he’ll be pissed, possibly _specifically_ ,” Raina presses.

“He looks forward to proving himself in combat,” Lorelei says, smirking.

“Then let’s do get to the nicer part of the evening,” Raina hums, leaning forward to kiss Lorelei voraciously. “No boys allowed.”

 

* * *

 

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever,” says MJ, eyes flashing.

“Could we not?” Hannah asks shyly. “I mean, I… still have to work tomorrow.”

“Could play with water,” chimes in Rogue. “Not quite the same, but it’d be something.”

Darcy wrinkles her nose. In this much smaller group, she can tell Hannah is less comfortable sticking out as the group square, and it’s her job as slumber party hostess to keep things even. “We could play a stupid video game,” she suggests instead.

“Sure, that’ll do,” says MJ. “What have you got?”

“Rock Band, your basic Wii stuff, Mario something or other,” Darcy says. It’s been a while since she’s played, and pretty much everything that’s still at her parents’ house is, well, parent-friendly and simple. “ _Oh_. Bereet, do you know the one where you shoot bunnies with plungers?”

Bereet makes a face. “I… don’t think so?” she says. “Maybe if I saw it it would jog my memory, I’m sure I’ve come across it, at least.”

“Okay, well, it’s Rayman something, I don’t know, my dad thinks it’s hilarious because it’s literally the most nonsensical thing in the world,” Darcy explains. “You have to fight evil bunnies with plungers and stuff, mostly plungers, and they make your jail cell fancy if they like you? And one of the levels is a Western town. Where, again, you fight bunnies with plungers.”

“What the fuck,” deadpans Akela.

MJ’s grinning. “Sounds fun even if you’re sober.”

“It’s really dumb and I’m horrible at it, but it’s a definite head trip,” Darcy says, already getting up to load it in. “And it’s so stupid that even if you’re just watching it’s fun.”

“We could try that,” Hannah says warily.

 

* * *

 

“Alright,” grunts Nebula, grabbing the dice, “I’m coming for the Ukraine, kid.”

“You’re not gonna get it,” Ace replies brightly.

“Should I be concerned that my nine-year-old son is so good at this game?” Mike asks Gamora jokingly.

“There are worse things for a nine-year-old to be good at,” Gamora says, and she may or may not be joking.

He chuckles. “I guess so, yeah.”

Carina glances up from the highly detailed patterns she’s making with spare and fallen game pieces. “Oh, no,” she says, and she reaches for Nebula’s hand just in case.

Nebula smiles ever so slightly at her before tossing the dice. Ace has rolled a four and a six, and when she comes up with two, one, and four she hisses, “Goddammit.”

“Really?” Gamora mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, they can say it in PG movies, it’s okay,” argues Nebula. “He’s heard worse at school.”

“He has,” Mike agrees.

“I’m trying to discourage her,” Gamora says, “not let it slide.”

“I don’t care!” Ace exclaims. “It’s just a word.”

Nebula nods and sticks out her tongue at Gamora. “See! Anyway, your turn.” She nudges the attack dice towards Ace.

 

* * *

 

Pietro tosses the small rubber bracelet again and the cat bolts across the room after it. “You can try, if you want,” he offers Hope. “Cardboard Box likes playing fetch. We don’t know why, he just started bringing things to us to throw one day.”

“That’s kinda cute,” Hope says, throwing the bracelet in the other direction just to mix it up.

“He’s an odd cat,” says Wanda fondly. “Sometimes he’ll reach into his bowl and nudge out individual pieces of dry food and eat them one by one.”

“Oh my gosh, why?” Hope laughs. “That sounds adorable but so weird.”

Wanda giggles. “We don’t know. He just does it.” She rests her head on Hope’s shoulder.

“It always freaks me out when the brides on these things are younger than I am,” Hope comments, indicating the television, where an episode of a wedding dress reality show is playing. “I think it’s more common on the Southern one, but it’s weird no matter what. I can’t imagine feeling old enough.”

Wanda makes a small noise of agreement. “It’s very odd. The human brain hasn’t even finished developing until you’re in your twenties. I wouldn’t want to make that kind of commitment with someone at that point in my life.”

Rolling his eyes, Pietro suggests, “We could change it?” He grins half-heartedly, because he knows this isn’t going to happen.

“Nope,” replies Wanda cheerfully. “It’s interesting. You can learn a lot about how people work by watching shows like this.”

“And it’s a really good way to feel better about the people you’re around, too,” Hope says. “If I ever get annoyed with my brother, I can just remember - hey, at least he didn’t make me try on something long-sleeved so I’d look pure enough for church.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose. “You wouldn’t dare, would you?” she calls to Pietro.

“I know better,” he replies with a grin. “Also, you two are sitting very close together.”

“Yeah,” Hope murmurs, giggling a little.

“It’s nice,” says Wanda with a half-shrug. “It’s safe.”

“It is,” Hope agrees softly.

 

* * *

 

“Last call for drinks!” Tony says. “Then I’m having JARVIS dim the lights and start the show.”

“Something strong,” Pepper announces. “If I’m going to sit through your silly space movie I want alcohol.”

“Your reluctance to watch a masterpiece such as _Galaxy Quest_ will not deter me,” replies Tony. “Manhattan?”

“I’ll take one too,” chimes in Rhodey.

“Make that three,” Helen announces, scooting that much closer to the arm of the couch. She doesn’t have anything against Happy, she doesn’t know him but she doesn’t have a problem with him, but Tony’s attempts to wedge them together both literally and metaphorically all night are really rather obvious.

“Just a rum and coke for me,” says Happy, who was already keeping himself confined to his own cushion.

Bruce and Mack are already nursing drinks, so Tony goes to mix the requested ones and, once he’s passed them out, he says, “JARVIS, lights down, cue the projector.”

“Very good, sir,” says JARVIS, and the lights dim.

“What’s the point of this movie, anyway?” Helen asks cheerfully.

“It’s a _Star Trek_ parody,” says Rhodey. “Well, _Trek_ and the _Trek_ fandom in general.”

“Why?” Helen presses.

Rhodey shrugs. “Because _Trek_ is great but also ridiculous.”

“Fair enough,” Helen says.

 

* * *

 

“I hope you would have had me stay the night even if there wasn’t a psychopath on the loose,” Hope says wryly, running her hand through Pam’s hair.

“I was getting around to it!” Pam laughs. “Forgive me for not jumping into big steps after my last disaster. It’s nothing personal.”

“I know,” Hope says. “I’m teasing you.”

“It’s hard to tell sometimes,” Pam remarks.

“I wouldn’t object to you trying to make it up to me, though,” Hope declares.

“Give me a few minutes to recover,” Pam sighs melodramatically. “That last one really took it out of me.”

“I know,” Hope repeats.

 

* * *

 

“Draw four, bitch!” Jessica crows triumphantly as she slaps the card down. “Also, blue.”

Luke sighs as he takes his cards. “Why you gotta do this, Jones?”

“The alcohol actually makes her more mellow about this,” Trish says with a smirk. “Childhood games with child-sized, no-outlet-for-rage Jess were rough.”

“Stop whining,” says Jessica, leaning over to bump Trish’s shoulder with hers. “Your turn, Malcolm.”

Malcolm puts down a card and laughs. “Well, at least you’re getting something out of it. I don’t have a lot of games.”

“It’s sweet of you to bring one,” Trish assures him.

“Should’ve let me make it strip Uno though,” teases Jessica. “That would be _way_ better.”

“We have company!” Trish exclaims, sort of faking how scandalized she is.

“I mean, I honestly wouldn’t be shocked,” Malcolm says.

Luke smirks and then plays a draw two card on Trish.

“Ugh,” Trish sighs, rolling her eyes showily. “C’mon.”

“Um, seriously,” says Malcolm, “thanks for letting me crash here while...y’know.”

“The escaped Nazi is on the loose? Yeah, totally.” Jessica smirks. “Safety in numbers, and whatever.”

“And these two will kick someone’s ass,” Trish says proudly, nodding at Jessica and Luke.

“Damn right,” agrees Luke. “Been awhile since we’ve had a chance.”

Jessica nods. “I’m starting to get itchy.”

 

* * *

 

“Look at them, getting along,” Laura says fondly, nodding to where Lucky and Firepaw are currently sleeping.

Clint grins. “Well, that’s always good. And they’re not destroying anything, so another win.”

“Speak for your own animal,” Laura exclaims. “Firepaw is a perfect gentleman.”

“True, except for that glass of water one time,” teases Clint.

“That was an accident! It’s not like you’ve never,” Laura declares.

“Sure, sure.” Clint runs his hand through her hair. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

“Can we do something that doesn’t involve moving?” Laura asks.

“‘Course. Chinese or pizza?”

“Chinese, maybe?” Laura shrugs. “It’ll keep the dog off our plates.”

“Not necessarily. He’s developed a taste for Mongolian beef.” Clint grins. “Can you reach my phone? You’re closer.”

“So avoid the Mongolian beef,” Laura quips, grabbing the phone and tossing it over.

 

* * *

 

“Matt got another black eye last week,” sighs Claire, sipping her wine. “Damn cage fights.”

“Why does he do that?” Linnea asks, laughing. “It seems like he just gets beat up a lot.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Something about Catholic guilt, catharsis through violence, I dunno. I sure as hell don’t condone it, but I can’t stop him.”

“I mean, at least he sort of makes a showing, maybe,” Linnea says. “Fandral likes to act like he could beat anyone up, but he’s way more stage combat than anything else.”

Snorting, Claire nods. “I never understood what you saw in him.”

“I honestly don’t either,” Linnea sighs. “But, well, it keeps happening.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never made questionable choices,” snickers Claire.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve never played poker,” Elena admits, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s easy!” says Drax. “But you have to be good at bluffing. I’m not very good at bluffing, but most people are too nervous to argue with me when I play.”

Joey snickers. “I could see that.”

“Here!” says Drax, dumping out the bag of Reese’s cups and giving each of them fifteen pieces. “I often play for money, but tonight I thought candy would be a good idea.”

“Makes sense,” says Elena. “So how do we start?”

“What should our minimum bet be? We all have to place the same number out first.”

Joey shrugs. “You know better than I do.” Elena smirks and nods in agreement.

“Let’s say three to start with,” Drax says, grinning and pushing three cups into the center. They follow his lead. Then he draws cards and says, “Look at your hand! But don’t look disappointed or excited because then we will know what it is.”

Joey snickers.

“So now we can begin!”

 

* * *

 

“Fandral, do you want more tea?” Hildy asks sweetly.

Fandral looks embarrassed. “I suppose,” he replies, holding out his tiny plastic cup. Hildy dutifully pours invisible tea, and Fandral looks longingly over at where Hogun and Volstagg’s two oldest, Flosi and Alaric, are playing _Overwatch._

“I think maybe it needs more sugar,” says Hildy. “What do you think?”

Volstagg ambles over and says, “Yes, Fandral, don’t you think so?” with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Fandral uses every ounce of willpower not to flip the bird at Volstagg. “Why, yes,” he says gamely. “I do believe it does, Hildy. These pastries are delightful, though.” He picks up an invisible pastry and pretends to eat it.

Hildy grins. “Thank you!”

Volstagg is taking pictures with his phone. Fandral starts plotting to steal it.

 

* * *

 

“But look at this one’s small face!” Thor says, tilting the laptop screen so Jane can see. “Is it not endearing?”

“It is,” Jane says, “but do we really have time to train a puppy?”

Thor shrugs. “Fair point, I suppose. This one is four years old and looks very laid-back.”

“Also cute,” Jane frowns, “but… dogs are a commitment. I don’t know if I have the time for any dog right now.”

“I assure you you will not have to do more than the absolute necessities,” Thor says solemnly. “I will take full responsibility for it.”

“But then it would love you more,” Jane laughs.

Thor laughs too. “Ah, and there is the dilemma! But I am sure it would love you as well. I cannot imagine anyone having any other reaction.”

 

* * *

 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” Isabelle laughs. “I had a lot of pent-up...energy.”

Victoria chuckles. “It was fine,” she says. “It was nice. Glad the sex isn’t getting old just because we’re a wedded pair.”

Isabelle snorts. “If I thought _that_ was going to happen, we wouldn’t even have gotten close to married.”

“Well, but you know the myths,” Victoria says archly. “All the heteros can’t wait to hop _out_ of bed with their spouses, or whatever.”

“Oh, I know. It’s absurd. But also, lesbian bed death,” Isabelle points out with an ironic smile.

“We’re clearly magical,” Victoria deadpans.

Isabelle laughs and nods. “I guess so.” She kisses Victoria again. “Hell, I’ll take it.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh good,” Coulson says. “Fury’s doing fine. He’s at Irani’s tonight, he just replied to my text.”

Rosalind rolls her eyes. “One, isn’t he at Irani’s most nights, and two, isn’t he a grown man who can look after himself?”

“Yes, I suppose,” says Coulson, “but Ward knows him as an actual threat. I wouldn’t put it past him to target Fury.”

“It’s not a horrible point,” says Rosalind. “But I still doubt that he needs your nannying.”

Coulson looks embarrassed. “True enough. Do you still want that footrub? Ma’am?”

 

* * *

 

“Welcome,” says Irani, glancing around the conference room table where Karen, Kara, and some of the managers are gathered. “I’m sorry to have scheduled this meeting so abruptly, but an urgent matter has come up. I’m sure most, if not all of you,” she glances at T’Challa, who has only been here for a month or two, and a dark-haired woman who looks like she’d be more at home at a state dinner than in a mall, “have been aware of the local gang activity in the area. It seems that one of the more notoriously troublesome members has recently escaped his confinement and we have strong suspicions he or his friends may cause trouble here.”

“She means Kara’s asshole ex, right?” Tegan whispers to Maria.

“Unfortunately,” Mara says with a grimace.

“Officially, Hydra is banned from the mall, but we know at least one of them has managed to sneak in recently,” Bobbi sighs. “The fuckers, even the so-called subtle ones, have that damn octopus somewhere on their person.”

“This is the dumbass who left that note?” Victoria asks, sounding surprisingly interested.

Bobbi nods. “And he tried to mess with m - with some of the other girls who work here,” she says, frowning. “I’d guess they’re all past the point of fuck it.”

Irani sighs. “It seems so. First of all, we should clarify for the newcomers what to look for. Hydra are resourceful, but not especially bright. They all have these tattoos” - she whips out a printed sheet with the Hydra logo on it - “generally on their upper arms but sometimes elsewhere. Many of them work at IKEA or in the police force. If you see someone hanging around acting suspiciously, especially a younger white man, it would behoove you to get the attention of myself or the security team. Here is the number for my office, and here is Mr. Fury’s number.” She gestures to the two numbers written on the whiteboard behind her. “I would recommend saving both of them, in case one of us is unavailable.”

“They get thrown out without question, right?” Pepper asks.

“Oh yes. Without force, hopefully, but we won’t question the use of force in these cases. Hydra is not a group that should be taken lightly.”

“Elektra,” says Maria, nodding to the dark-haired woman, who glances at her and smirks, “since your store has actual weapons, you should be especially wary. I wouldn’t put it past one of these assholes to try to take a knife or something before they head for their actual target.”

Elektra chuckles darkly. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Please don’t escalate a situation unnecessarily,” Fury says. “We’re trained to handle this kind of thing. You might not be.”

“Oh, I am,” replies Elektra, but when Fury turns to glare at her she gives him an innocent look. “But I’ll leave it to you. Probably.”

 

* * *

 

“So where did Karen say they’d meet us?” Foggy asks.

“Just here, by the food court,” Matt replies. “We’re a little early, I think.”

Foggy shrugs. “We’ve got like three hours till Hogarth’s class.”

“So have you started on that bullshit project yet?”

Foggy’s about to answer when another voice interjects, “Hello, Matthew.”

“Oh my god,” says Foggy at the same time Matt freezes and says, “Elektra?”

“That’s right,” she purrs. “I’ve recently relocated. Got a job here and everything.”

“Oh?” says Matt, in a strangled kind of voice.

“Relocated from…?” Foggy asks, narrowing his eyes.

Elektra shrugs. “Is it so important to know? I thought you’d be happy that I’m here, Matthew.”

Matt coughs. “Yes, um, it’s, it’s good to - to run into you.”

“Uh, hey,” Karen says as she and Kara approach, wearing equally confused expressions. “New friend?”

“Definitely not new,” says Foggy, making a face at them.

“So, uh, how do you know the knife girl?” Kara asks.

Matt makes a noise that he barely manages to turn into another cough. “The...knife girl…?”

“Christ almighty,” mutters Foggy.

“Oh, I work at Excalibur now,” says Elektra. “Not exactly what I’m used to, but it will be more...regular than my usual. I’m sure you remember how I used to play around with my sai? The owner thought that might make me an asset.”

Kara nods. “She offered to teach me a few things, just, you know, in case,” she says.

Foggy yelps, and Matt says, as if he is measuring every word carefully, “How, uh, generous of you, Elektra.”

“I heard about the trouble she was having,” Elektra says, “and I hate to see a girl defenseless.”

Foggy grabs Matt’s arm. “Matt, can I have a word?” Matt nods and Foggy leads him away from the others. “This is terrible!” Foggy hisses. “She’s _back?_ I thought we got rid of her for good!”

Matt looks embarrassed. “You’re making her sound like some sort of disease.”

“She _is!_ She gets in your head, Matt, and then you get super weird and make worse decisions than usual, and who has to deal with the aftermath? Me!”

“Foggy, it’s been years, I don’t think she-”

“I do! She…” Foggy trails off. “Oh god. She’s talking to Kara again.”

“Oh, that’s Greek,” says Matt. “I didn’t know Kara spoke Greek, that’s nice.”

“That’s _not_ nice!” Foggy insists. “That means that’s one more person she’s charming into liking her! Am I seriously the only one who’s immune here?”

“Well, if you’re that concerned maybe don’t leave her alone with the others,” Matt points out.

Foggy grumbles as he storms back over to where the three of them are talking.

“-and well, my parents wanted me to marry some diplomat or CEO,” Elektra is saying with a laugh, “and that was deeply unappealing to me. So I left, came here, and got a job.”

“No drug smuggling this time?” Foggy asks warily.

Elektra laughs again. “Oh, Franklin, no. I left that behind long ago.”

“Franklin,” Karen repeats. “That never gets old.”

Foggy glares daggers at her. Matt quickly says, “Karen, did you want to head to lunch?”

“Oh, are you all going to lunch?” Elektra asks. “How quaint.”

“You should come!” Kara says eagerly. “I mean, it’s nothing fancy, it’s mall food, but hey.”

“Thank you.” Elektra flashes her a smile. “I think that sounds lovely. Matthew and I go way back.”

“Oh, _really_ ,” Karen exclaims with a grin.

Foggy groans very quietly.

Matt, completely stony-faced, says, “Yes, she and I were in a class together a few years ago.”

“Well, it was quite a bit more than _that_ ,” says Elektra, raising an eyebrow. “But I imagine it’s quite a boring story.”

“That doesn’t sound boring,” Karen says with a bright smile. “Please, do share!”

“I’m going to get food,” says Foggy quickly, sauntering towards the pizza place.

Eventually the five of them are seated and eating while Elektra tells Karen and Kara stories about her time with Matt, and Matt turns interesting shades of red while Foggy tries to pretend his slice of pizza is deeply engrossing. Then Jessica saunters by and, noticing how embarrassed the two of them look and seeing some opportunity for entertainment, plops down next to Foggy. “Hey,” she says to Elektra. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“I’m an old friend of Matthew’s,” says Elektra, smirking. “And you?”

“Jessica Jones,” she says with a nod. “You work somewhere around here? Gotta be honest, you look more like someone who wouldn’t touch this place with a ten foot pole.”

“I’m flattered,” Elektra replies. “But yes, I just started at Excalibur. I’ve just moved back to the area, so I’m delighted to know that Matthew has so many friends.”

“Something like that.” Jessica smirks. “If you ever feel like cheap bar runs, hit me up.”

“I will.” Elektra waves as she ambles off. “So, Matthew, what are you up to? Karen tells me you’re finally working on that law degree you were so excited about.”

Matt looks like he’d rather be submerged in a tank full of starving alligators than here. “Yes.”

“I’m sure you’re doing brilliantly,” Elektra continues. “I knew you would.”

Foggy stares intently at the grease stain his pizza left behind on the paper plate and starts to consider spiriting Matt away in the dead of night.

 

* * *

 

When Jessica gets out of work, it’s about nine and just starting to get dark. She texts Trish and Luke, who she knows have either been at work for a couple hours already or are just starting.

_> >Just got out, heading back. Probably order something, I’ll leave enough in the fridge for you both._

It’s not five minutes before Trish texts back.

>> _Are you alone? You shouldn’t be walking home alone._

Jessica rolls her eyes.

_> >Yeah I am, but it’s whatever. It’s like ten minutes and it’s only just getting dark, nothing’s gonna happen._

Trish replies, because of course she does.

>> _Don’t be stupid just to be brave._

>> _Have you met me?_

>> _Yes. I’m just trying to protect you, goof._

_> >I’m not a damsel. Will it make you feel better if I leave you a message when I get home?_

>> _Yes. It will. I know you’re not but anyone can run into trouble._

_> >True enough. I’ll call you in fifteen. If I don’t, you can have my closet space but not my pillow._

>> _Don’t be morbid. Love you._

>> _Gross._

Jessica tucks her phone into her pocket and starts the walk home. She said fifteen and not ten because she knows it doesn’t take fifteen minutes to walk home, unless she walks by Kara’s place. She’s been doing that lately, just to check on things, even though it’s less likely the shithead knows where she moved to. But it can’t hurt.

She’s in the general area, walking through the abandoned parking lot of a dollar store, when someone comes up behind her and grabs her, spinning her around to slam her into one of the dumpsters. “Where is she?” the person asks, and of _course_ it’s him, of fucking course.

She spits in his face. Not her most elegant response, but, well. “You think I’m gonna tell you, I got some waterfront property in Nevada I can sell you.”

“Oh, funny,” says Ward. “You think sarcasm will help you survive this. It won’t. If you won’t help me, I’m sure I can find someone else who will. And in the meantime, there’s a very convenient place to put your body.”

Jessica bites his arm, causing him to yell and stagger back a bit, which she takes advantage of to kick him in the chest. He grunts and barrels forward, trying to get ahold of her, which she of course nimbly avoids.

“You’re choosing the difficult way!” he shouts. “I’m going to find her, with or without your help! The only choice you have is whether or not you live through it.”

“Hey, asshole,” Jessica says, punching him in the stomach and making him double over, “you might wanna work on your lines. They’re kinda stupid.”

He’s strong and angry, but she’s faster and a better fighter than he is, and the fight goes on for a while. Once he gets a lucky punch in and gives her a black eye, but that only pisses her off more, and she counters with a punch to the jaw that sends him flying, landing on the pavement with an interesting _crunch._

“ _Fuck!_ ” he screams.

“Oh, you think that hurts,” says Jessica, kneeling with a knee on his chest, “get a load of this.”

When she’d snapped Kilgrave’s neck, it was almost an accident. This time it’s definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [No, really](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHQLQ1Rc_Js).


	105. I've got a thick tongue brimming with the words that go unsung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant Ward is dead. Everyone reacts accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday was this fic's 2nd birthday. Thanks to everyone who's been reading, no matter how long, and we hope you keep enjoying it!

Claire, fresh off her shift at the clinic, is sitting at the bus stop when she sees Jessica limp by.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she groans, and stands up. “Jones! What did you do now?”

She glances up, and then Claire sees the black eye. “Nothin’,” she says, trying for a grin. “You should see the other guy. I mean, or maybe not. He’s kind of smeared all over the pavement. And the dumpster.”

“Christ,” mutters Claire, glancing around to make sure no one else is around. “Please tell me you did not kill a guy, Jessica.”

Jessica shrugs. “He jumped me, it was self-defense.”

Claire puts her head in her hands. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Does it make it better or worse that it was that shithead Grant Ward?” Jessica asks, smirking.

Claire lifts her head, looks at her for a very long moment, then grabs her arm. “Listen,” she hisses, “you are coming home with me to get some basic medical care, and then you are going to tell me exactly what the fuck happened.”

“Okay.” Jessica shrugs again. “Luke and Trish are at work, they won’t miss me.”

“Not the point,” sighs Claire, praying the bus will come quickly.

 

* * *

 

They’re home within the hour, and then Claire is herding Jessica to her apartment quickly before anyone can see and ask questions. They almost make it, but then Sharon pokes her head out her door and gasps. “Christ!” she exclaims. “No wonder you’re making so much noise. What happened?”

“I got in a fight,” says Jessica with a lazy grin.

Claire glares at her and then turns to Sharon. “Long story, I need to get her inside. If you want, you can come in too, but we need to lay low.”

Sharon nods. “I can be subtle,” she promises. “I understand the need.”

Claire gives her a half-smile and unlocks her door, gesturing for them both to go in. “Sit on the couch, Jones,” she calls, heading into the bathroom for her first aid kit. “Don’t move.”

“Or what, you’ll call the cops?” taunts Jessica, but she sits down as asked.

Claire rolls her eyes and returns with the kit and an ice pack. “Put this on your eye,” she says. “Where did he get you?”

“Kick in the shin,” says Jessica, resting the ice pack on her face. “I think maybe somewhere on my side, but I’m not sure.”

“Okay. Take off your pants and shirt, and _don’t_ say what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking when I do this I’m usually not bruised to shit,” Jessica snarks, but she strips. Claire checks her thoroughly and then, after she’s confident Jessica’s as treated as she’s going to be for the night, says, “Now. Talk.”

“Woof,” says Jessica, still holding the ice pack. “So, Sharon, Grant Ward jumped me in a parking lot. We fought. I kicked his ass and snapped his neck, and then I threw his body in a dumpster. And that’s what you missed on _Glee.”_

Sharon’s jaw drops, but to her credit she does manage to say, “If that’s the kind of shit that went down on _Glee_ it wouldn’t have sucked.”

Jessica snorts. “No kidding. But yeah, that’s about it. I was heading over to Kara’s place to check on it, when Edward Cullen showed up and demanded I tell him where she was. He had a bunch of shitty one-liners too, like a supervillain or some shit. So then we beat the shit out of each other a little and then I got him in the ground and, well. Snapped his neck.”

“Goddammit,” sighs Claire. “I mean, he definitely deserved it, but you’ve just dragged us all into a legal nightmare.”

“Maybe not,” Sharon says. “I mean, you were clearly… defending yourself?”

Jessica shrugs. “Whatever. He’s fucking gone.”

“We should let people know,” Sharon says. “I mean, so everyone can sleep easier and stuff.”

“Not that I disagree, but we’ve got the perp _sitting in my living room,_ ” says Claire, “and I’m not interested in being booked as an accomplice.”

“I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Jessica says. “Tell whoever you want, Carter. You don’t even have to use my name, if it’ll make Claire feel better.”

Sharon giggles. “Just have her turn around so she can have deniability,” she quips.

Claire snorts and sighs. “Whatever. You think you can get home okay?”

“Tasha’s gonna order a cake,” Sharon says, not looking up from her phone.

Jessica laughs. “Yeah, but is it gonna say HE’S FUCKING DEAD on it? I dunno if you can get bakeries to make that. Anyway, yeah, thanks for the ice, I’ll be fine.” She stands up. “If you don’t see me again, I’m probably in jail.”

“Hilarious,” says Claire, rolling her eyes.

Once she’s back in her own apartment, Jessica dials Kara’s number. It’s almost ten, so she’s not really surprised when Kara doesn’t pick up. “Hey,” she says when the voicemail picks up. “It’s Jessica. I got a hell of a story for you and it has to do with your not-so-little problem, but it’s good news, promise. Call me when you get this.” Then she hangs up and goes to see what booze they have in the fridge.

 

* * *

 

 **In light of recent revelations…** • By _ProfessionalStudent,_ 26-July-2016

[ _An easy joke, but it seemed necessary._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHQLQ1Rc_Js)

**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 26-July-2016

_Ohhhhh my gooooooodddddddddd you guysssssssssssssssss_

**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By _BoyScout,_ 26-July-2016

_This feels like a strange time to be celebrating, but I’m glad that’s over with._

**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By _TheSplendid,_ 26-July-2016

_Nerd._

**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By _FuckOff,_ 26-July-2016

_Holy shit. And we’re sure he’s dead, right? No zombie resurrection bullshit or anything?_

**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By _TheSplendid,_ 26-July-2016

_My source is on the level. I shouldn’t say more for legal reasons, but he’s gone._

**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By _Thesmophoria,_ 26-July-2016

_Good fucking riddance._

_**Re: In light of recent revelations…** • By EnPointe, 26-July-2016_

_[I ordered us a cake.](http://66.media.tumblr.com/d84adfc50ae72d034c2ed76fc94519b9/tumblr_o7inmyn2UP1qgmp5yo1_500.jpg) It was delicious._

 

* * *

 

When Karen and Kara enter the office the next morning, their arms are linked and they’re honest-to-goodness giggling. It’s so happy it’s a little unsettling.

Irani blinks, unused to this sort of display. “Good morning, ladies,” she says. “It seems it’s an especially good morning for you both?”

Kara glances at Karen and then blushes furiously. “It was a pretty good night,” she says. “I mean, it… good things. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Karen says, scratching the back of her neck. “Uh, kind of… some of it was upsetting, but good at the same time.”

Bemused, Irani chuckles. “Well, far be it from me to be nosy when it’s uncalled for. Unless…?” She raises an eyebrow at Kara, meaning _is this an occasion to be nosy?_

“No, you should, uh, you should know,” Kara murmurs. “Uh. Privately?”

Irani nods. “Garthan, Rhomann!” When they look at her, she smiles pleasantly and says, “Would the two of you be willing to go on a coffee run? Take this.” She hands them some bills. “Between the two of you, you know what we like.”

Once they’re gone, she turns back to Kara. “Well?”

“Grant’s dead,” Kara murmurs.

Taking a breath, Irani sits up straighter in her chair. “I see. Do you know what happened?”

“It was an accident!” Kara exclaims. “Our, our friend, she ran into him and they fought and he’s, he’s dead.”

“I see,” repeats Irani. “I can’t say I’m terribly sorry. He was a despicable person and the world is likely better off without him. And you’re holding up alright? I imagine it must be a complicated thing to process.”

“Honestly?” Kara laughs, nervous. “I mostly just feel relieved. It’s surreal, but it’s the best thing that could’ve happened.”

Irani nods. “I agree. I’m glad we’re rid of him, and you especially.”

“Yeah,” Karen agrees, squeezing Kara’s hand. “We’re all gonna sleep a little easier.”

“We are,” Kara nods. “Y’know, and - thank you guys.”

“Aw, hon,” Karen hums. “Of course.”

“I’ve been happy to do whatever I can for you, Kara,” says Irani with a smile.

 

* * *

 

“I mean, we _could_ just use one of the premade layouts, but that’s a little cheap, isn’t it?” Karen says with a giggle. Any further thoughts are interrupted by knocking at the office door, though.

“Come in?” Kara calls doubtfully.

A police officer opens the door, holding up his badge. “Officer Mahoney. I’m here about a homicide case. Is Kara Palamas here?”

Kara blanches, but her hand goes up. The other hand reaches for Karen’s. “That’s me,” she says, frowning.

Mahoney gives her a small smile. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just need to ask you a few questions about a body that was found near your apartment complex, and your landlord gave me this address. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“I… can she stay?” Kara asks, nodding at Karen.

Mahoney starts to frown, but he sees the way Kara is clutching at Karen’s hand and softens. “Alright. Is there a back room we could do the interview in, for security reasons?”

“Irani?” Karen calls behind them.

Irani nods. “Yes, let me take you to the back room, officer.” As she leads him away and Kara and Karen follow, she shoots Kara a concerned look over her shoulder.

Finally they’re settled in the back room and Mahoney pulls out a photograph. “Do you recognize this man?”

It’s funny, because Kara knows exactly what he’s about to do, and more or less what she’s about to see, but - but - it still washes over her all over again. “I - yeah,” she stammers.

“Do you know him?”

“I did,” she says. “We… he was my boyfriend. Then I left him. That was months ago.”

“We got an anonymous tip yesterdy that a body matching his description was found in one of the dumpsters in the parking lot,” says Mahoney. “We were able to identify the body, but would you be willing to look at a photograph and see if you can confirm that, as a close associate of the deceased?”

“We’re not close,” Kara insists, her voice rising. “He - he…”

“You’re okay,” Karen whispers reassuringly.

“We’re not close,” Kara repeats, “but we… we were. I’ll take a look.” She sounds less than sure about this.

Mahoney nods. “I understand this may be difficult.” He pulls out another photograph. “This is from our coroner’s office.”

Kara takes a breath that sounds more like a gasp. “That’s, I mean, I… it looks like him?” She tries to calm herself before adding, “What _happened_?”

“His injuries were consistent with a broken neck. There were other injuries suggesting he had been in some kind of fight prior to his death as well. Do you know of any circumstances in his life that might have caused this to happen? Any disgruntled gambling buddies?”

“Gambling buddies?” Karen repeats, shocked at the hilarious understatement of it.

“We’re still gathering information,” says Mahoney, “so anything you can tell us will be helpful.”

“Well, I’m sure you know he just broke himself out of prison,” Kara spits.

“We are aware of that,” replies Mahoney, trying for patient. “His case was mostly handled by the state, so we’re trying to retrieve the details of it right now. Can you tell me why he was in prison, Ms. Palamas?”

Before Kara can answer, there’s a knock at the door, and Sergeant Clemons and another officer step into the room and shut the door behind them. “Mahoney,” says Clemons, nodding. “Vogel and I have more information on the Ward case. Ms. Palamas,” he adds in greeting.

“Hello,” Kara whispers, sounding both relieved (of the temporary distraction) and terrified (because this is making her anxiety flare).

Mahoney nods at his fellow officers before turning back to Kara. “Why was Mr. Ward in prison, if you know?”

“Among other things, he kidnapped my dog,” she says. “With the intention of murdering her.”

Mahoney writes this down, nodding. “And can you tell us where you were on Sunday evening between six and eight PM?”

“Six-fifteen showing of _Ghostbusters_ ,” Kara says without missing a beat. “Kate McKinnon is incredible.”

Clemons chuckles. “She is. Do you have any witnesses who can confirm your story?”

“Karen,” Kara says immediately. “And Elektra, she’s new here but she’s really cool.”

“I’m Karen,” Karen offers, grinning. “I work with Kara and… stuff.”

Mahoney is scribbling notes. “And where does Elektra work?”

“Excalibur?” Kara murmurs. “She’s in charge of the, uh, fancy… edge weapons. Responsibly.”

Clemens nods. “Officer Mahoney may already have asked this, but do you know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Mr. Ward? How did he spend his free time?”

“Well.” Kara swallows. She doesn’t know this Vogel, he looks like he could be one of the Hydra guys she never met. She has to be careful. “His friends, uh, a lot of them were IKEA people.”

“IKEA people?” Mahoney asks. “Is that some kind of code?”

“People who work at IKEA,” Kara shrugs. “They… a lot of his friends worked there with him.”

“And did you know many of them? His friends?”

“Not well,” Kara says. “I didn’t have a good chance to get to know most of them, and I didn’t really want to. I always felt weird with them.”

“Weird how?” interjects Vogel, frowning. “Did they make you _uncomfortable_?” He doesn’t sound especially sympathetic.

Kara squeezes Karen’s hand, trying to give herself a chance to think about what to say. “Well,” she murmurs, “I was usually the only girl, and that was… weird.” The only lots of things, she wants to say, but she holds her tongue. “I just didn’t feel like I belonged.”

“You said you were his girlfriend?” Vogel asks, glancing at Mahoney’s notes. “Can’t have ended all that well, if he stole your dog. Allegedly. Was that before or after you left him?”

“I was his girlfriend for a while last year,” Kara replies through gritted teeth. “I left him because he put me in the _hospital_ , and he kidnapped my dog this year in a sick bid for revenge.”

“Really, in the hospital? Did you file a report on him then?”

“No,” Kara says, hoping her tone implies the _I knew it wasn’t worth it_ part. “I had a friend drive me to the hospital and then I never spoke to him again.”

Karen, meanwhile, has very subtly pulled out her phone under the table and is firing off a text message to Jessica, trying not to let her rage show on her face.

“Interesting,” says Mahoney, glaring at Vogel. “And you had no further contact with him after that, aside from his trial?”

“He left me a creepy note after he broke out of jail,” Kara mutters. “But that’s it.”

“Really? When was that, and how do you know it was from him?”

“A couple weeks ago, and I know his handwriting and the smell of his dumb cologne,” Kara retorts.

Clemens nods. “And do you remember what it said?”

Kara’s about to answer, when the door opens very suddenly and Jessica Jones calls, “Hey, Sergeant, that anonymous source? It’s me. So you can quit pestering her, she doesn’t know a damn thing. Me, I have all sorts of juicy info.”

Clemens’ mouth twitches ever so slightly. “Ms. Jones, is it? You were at the scene when we recovered Ms. Palamas’ dog.”

“That’s me,” says Jessica. “And I found the body, ‘cause the dumpster smelled even worse than usual on my way home from work. She’s probably already told you she hadn’t talked to the guy in months, so just let her go already.”

Clemens sighs and nods. “I suppose you have a point. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Palamas. You’re free to go. We’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”

“Thank you, Officers, Sergeant,” Kara says, smiling shyly. Karen waves as they head for the door, nodding for Jessica to follow if it’s permitted.

“Ms. Jones, you stay. We’ll take you up on that offer of information,” adds Clemens. Smirking, Jessica flops down in the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of us made and decorated that cake several months ago. It was, indeed, delicious.


	106. playing for love, playing for keeps, playing for light come down and set me free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team America has T'Challa over for game night, and he is amused and baffled by Life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, for a while it's going to be all fluff in this story. We think everyone deserves a break.

“Oh my,” T’Challa says as the three dogs swarm him. Apollo and Artemis are at least polite about it, sniffing at his hands before wandering off, but Callie is her usual excited self.

“Callie, sit!” says Bucky. She does, but her entire body is wagging. “Sorry,” he says with a lazy grin. “They’re friendly.”

“It’s completely fine,” T’Challa says, returning his smile. “I’m glad they’re happy to see me.”

“We’re happy to see you too!” says Sam as he ambling out of the kitchen. “Early, as usual.”

T’Challa laughs. “I wouldn’t want to be a disappointment.”

“C’mon, you can sit down on the couch.” Bucky gestures over to the living room, then adds, “Okay, Callie, good girl, calm.” At that, Callie stands up again, and bounds into the living room after them, retrieving a worn blue ball and bringing it to T’Challa hopefully.

“You can throw that for her, I’ve got everything bolted down so she can’t possibly break anything,” says Bucky.

While T’Challa and Callie are playing fetch, Natasha lets herself in, greeting them with “I brought cheese sticks!”

“I love you,” says Bucky, getting up to help her with the bags.

Sam groans. “T’Challa, we have fruit in the kitchen if you’d rather not kill yourself immediately.”

“I will take you up on that a bit later,” says T’Challa goodnaturedly, tossing the ball again.

“See, _this_ man knows how to take care of himself,” Sam calls to Natasha and Bucky. “Maybe I’ll just run off with him, leave you all to your heart disease and high blood pressure.” The two of them, who have been sneaking a few cheese sticks, respond by making exaggerated orgasmic noises as they eat.

“Disgusting,” Sam says, shaking his head and grinning fondly.

T’Challa laughs. “I’m guessing this is an old argument?”

“You got it.”

“Also, I’m very flattered, but you’re not my type,” adds T’Challa playfully.

Sam laughs. “Thought not, but y’know, worth asking.”

“This one snores anyway,” says Natasha, coming back in to drape herself over Sam. “Like a chainsaw.”

“Hey,” protests Sam, “you kick like a horse.”

“You both have godawful morning breath,” comments Bucky, handing T’Challa a plate with a variety of fruit. “Wasn’t sure what you liked,” he adds to his guest, “so I grabbed a little of everything.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

“Everyone decent in here?” Sharon calls as she and Steve let themselves in.

“Not a stitch on us,” says Natasha wryly.

“Perfect.” Or rather, perfect to make Steve roll his eyes, which he’s doing, to Sharon’s delight.

Sam smirks. “Last ones again, huh?”

“I wonder how that could have happened,” says Bucky.

“Don’t blame me,” Sharon says airily, heading into the kitchen for a drink.

“That puts me at a disadvantage,” Steve replies.

“There might have been traffic,” T’Challa points out, but he’s smirking too.

“Traffic. Sure. Bumper-to-bumper, huh?” Bucky snarks.

“How old are you again?” Sharon asks, smiling blithely.

Bucky grins and says, “Twenty eight going on twelve.”

“So I think we should let T’Challa pick our game for the evening, since he’s visiting,” Steve suggests once they’re all settled.

“You okay with that?” Bucky asks T’Challa.

T’Challa looks a little surprised. “Sure. I can’t promise I’ll recognize everything. We didn’t have a lot of time for board games growing up.”

He ends up staring for a long time at The Game of Life, seeing perplexed. “How would this even work?”

“We’ll show you!” says Bucky cheerfully, pulling it out.

“It’s pretty silly,” Sharon disclaims, grinning.

“Yeah, it’s like Monopoly but less cutthroat, sort of,” says Sam. “You’ll see.”

Once they have the board set up, Bucky says, “Okay, so first you have to decide whether you’re gonna go to college or start a career.”

T’Challa blinks. “Why can’t you go back to college later in life? That seems absurd.”

“I mean, you’ll see later it’s not exactly supposed to be realistic,” says Natasha, grinning.

“I think there’s a Night School space you can land on, but yeah,” Steve agrees. “It’s pretty. Strange.”

“I suppose I’ll go to college, then,” says T’Challa, moving his yellow car to the college section.

Everyone but Bucky and Natasha join him. Bucky passes out student loan slips for them and puts on an exaggerated voice to say “Hurr hurr, nerds!”

“We’ll blow spitballs at you from our cubicles,” teases Natasha.

“How will they reach us?” Sharon asks.

“Eh, we’ll figure it out,” says Bucky with a shrug.

“Someone fan out the career cards for me,” says Natasha wryly. Steve does so and she draws three, then, after glancing at them for a minute, holds up the salesperson card and does a perfect impression of the expressions the people in the illustration are sporting.

“That’s terrifying,” Steve deadpans. Sam and Sharon are snickering.

“Okay, okay, gimme,” Bucky says, reaching for the cards still in Steve’s hand. “Ooh, police officer!”

“There’s a dark irony to that,” says Sam.

“Hey, don’t read weird shit into this, I just like taking money when people spin tens.”

T’Challa tilts his head as if confused about what Sam is referencing, but doesn’t ask.

“Salary time,” Sharon sings out.

“My favorite,” says Natasha, grabbing three cards from the deck Sharon fans out. “Fuck yes!”

“No way,” groans Sam, leaning over to see her card. “How do you always get the hundred thousand?”

Natasha shrugs, smiling innocently. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbles Bucky, drawing cards for himself and ending up with seventy thousand. “Eh, not bad.”

“I am starting to see what you meant about this game being unrealistic,” T’Challa says, grinning. “It’s amusing how the salaries have nothing to do with the jobs themselves.”

“That would be too deterministic, or something,” Sharon chirps. “Everyone’s got their starting material?”

Everyone does, so they begin. Steve spins a 10, so he goes first. He lands on the “make new friends” square, smiling just a bit ironically as he collects his Life tile. “Fair enough,” he says.

“Is that what happens when we land on those squares?” T’Challa asks. “I was wondering.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Bucky says. “You get one every time you land on those, until they run out, and you can’t look at them till the end. Also whoever gets to retirement first gets those four at Millionaire Estates.”

T’Challa nods, spinning for himself and ending up on a part-time job square, which earns him an extra $5000.

By the time the four of them are emerging from the college track, Bucky and Natasha have collected two pay days each and Natasha has inched her car carefully around the STOP: GET MARRIED square, smirking.

“We let her cheat on that one,” Sharon explains, rolling her eyes fondly.

T’Challa snickers and says, “It seems absurd to make it mandatory.”

“Children are mandatory if you land on them, so I guess the good gamemakers wanted to make sure it was on the up-and-up,” Sharon snarks.

“I mean, what _would_ we tell the children,” jokes Sam.

“I guess we better contemplate that one seriously,” Sharon says, in a voice like she’s joking but she isn’t joking at all.

T’Challa, who is beginning to become accustomed to his new friends’ odd vague remarks, just chuckles and prepares to draw his career cards.

He ends up an accountant, Steve an artist (“no surprise there,” drawls Bucky), Sam a doctor, and Sharon an entertainer. “Ooh, what kind of entertainer?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow. “I can think of a few options.”

“No!” Sharon yelps. “Like… a classy one. I sing.”

Sam scoffs when he draws the forty thousand dollar salary. “Man, I went to medical school to avoid this bullshit,” he jokes.

“Maybe you’ll be able to switch it,” Steve says earnestly.

Eyes wide, T’Challa says, “Can you do that in this game?”

“There are spaces for it and everything,” Steve nods.

“That’s convenient, I suppose.”

“I’m coming for you, Romanoff,” says Sam, smirking. She smirks back.

“See, that’s obviously how Life works,” Sharon says to T’Challa. “You can make someone give you their salary.”

“Obviously,” snickers T’Challa.

When Bucky lands on the marriage square, he grabs a little blue peg and smirks at Steve. Which is fitting, because that’s exactly what Steve does when it’s his turn. “This game is better than it was when we were kids,” Steve supplies.

“Sure is,” Sharon chirps, grabbing herself a little pink peg.

T’Challa takes a pink peg too, smiling almost apologetically. “Sorry to break the mold.”

“Hey, no worries,” says Sam. “I’ll join you. We’re cool with whatever here.” He puts a pink peg in his car.

Natasha’s the first to hit the STOP: BUY A HOUSE square, and when she takes her three options, she gleefully holds up the Victorian house. “I love this pink monstrosity.”

Everyone else’s houses are bought without incident (Bucky ends up with the farmhouse, joking “I need it for these monsters” as he scratches Artemis’ ears), but while T’Challa is weighing his options his phone rings. “Hm,” he says, “pardon me.”

“Hey, T’Challa,” says Tony on the other end. “What’s going on for you tonight?”

“I’m with Steve and his partners,” replies T’Challa. “They invited me for game night.”

“Hi, Tony!” singsong Natasha and Bucky, both smirking.

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment before Tony just says, “Oh. Okay. That’s not, like, some weird euphemism and you’re actually having a giant orgy, right?”

“Um, no.” T’Challa frowns. “We are playing the Game of Life.”

“Aren’t we all,” sighs Tony. “Okay, well, lemme know if you wanna hang out sometime this weekend, I guess. Bye.”

“Goodbye,” says T’Challa as Tony hangs up. “I wonder what that was all about.”

“I think Tony has a sixth sense for potential orgies happening without him,” Sharon jokes.

“Apparently,” says Bucky, rolling his eyes and grinning. “It’s not my fault he’s like in love with me or something.”

“ _Mean Girls_ , Buck?” Steve interjects. “Really?”

“ _Mean Girls_ is applicable to every situation,” Natasha says.

They end up with a reasonable amount of “children” between them, although Natasha ends up passing her four onto Sharon, each time chirping, “Adoption!” before plopping them into Sharon’s car.

“I’m going to have to get a second car,” Sharon grumbles, but she’s kind of expecting this.

It turns out there’s a midlife crisis square, which Sam finds out when he lands on it. “Alright,” he grumbles, following the instructions to choose a new career. “No wonder, if I was making peanuts as a doctor.” He ends up taking the Teacher card.

It somehow fits that Sharon’s spaces keep getting landed on. “Randoms do spend money on entertainment pretty often,” she declares cheerfully.

“Yeah, here you go, Taylor Swift,” teases Bucky, handing her $35000 for a sponsored golf tournament.

“You know, I’m not even going to take that as an insult,” Sharon says.

As they play, T’Challa comments, “You all seem to have a good understanding of the social structure at the mall. I would appreciate any...insights you had on people.”

“You mean on Tony, right?” Steve asks, sighing.

Laughing, T’Challa nods. “Was that obvious? I don’t mean to be rude, but he seems very…”

“Needy?” Natasha interrupts, smirking. “He’s kind of an asshole sometimes, but not the worst. Not great at relationships though. He may or may not try and hit on you.”

“I think he has already tried,” says T’Challa with his own smirk. “I’ll be polite if he persists.”

“Politeness doesn’t always work,” Steve says, making a face. “Remember the paintball… mess?”

“Yes. What does that have to do with this?”

“He got it in his head that he should be included in our collective sex life,” says Bucky, grinning and rolling his eyes. “So he kept making stupid bets to be included, and finally he decided paintball was the hill he wanted to die on.”

“What did he tell you it was about?” Sam asks curiously.

T’Challa frowns. “I believe he told me that it was merely a friendly mall-wide competition to build team spirit. I decided it would be a good idea since I was new to the social group.”

“Not that it didn’t work out okay, but you see how silly that is?” Sharon chuckles.

“I suppose,” says T’Challa, “but here I am, making friends, so I can’t say I regret it overall.” He spins and moves his car. “Ah, it seems I am having another child,” he jokes when he lands on one of the “It’s a boy!” spaces, grabbing a blue peg.

“I always thought it was funny that you could potentially cash in on your kids after the fact,” Sharon declares.

T’Challa tilts his head quizzically, and Bucky explains, “So you can’t look at them yet, but all the little Life tiles have major life events or whatever on them that are worth money. Like, I dunno, write a bestselling novel, or…”

“Adopting a dolphin,” Steve supplies, looking pleased with himself.

Bucky snorts. “Something like that. I don’t think that’s one of them, though.”

“It could be,” Steve defends.

“This game seems as if it might give children an unrealistic idea of money,” jokes T’Challa.

“This game teaches children the most you’ll ever have to spend on a house is $200,000,” Sharon points out. “It’s not exactly accurate.”

Sam snorts. “Also that you can live in a house that’s literally cracked in half.”

Natasha, on her next turn, breezes past the “Adopt twins!” square and says “Thank fucking christ. That’s the last baby square,” she adds to T’Challa.

“Thank goodness,” Sharon echoes, rolling her eyes playfully.

Natasha winks at her. “Not enjoying my spawn?”

“I’m not enjoying the extra car I have to keep track of,” Sharon retorts. “One or two kids, okay, but this many is too many for me.”

Leaning over to kiss her cheek, Natasha purrs, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You better,” Sharon teases. She spins to take her next turn and promptly lands on the square for sending kids to college. “You know, you could start right now. Help me pay for some of these brats.”

Natasha snorts and hands over a $100k bill. “There. We good?”

“For now,” Sharon says haughtily.

It’s a close race to the end between Sharon and Bucky, but Bucky edges ahead of her and whoops as he moves his car to Millionaire Estates. “If you need me, I’ll be over here counting my millions,” he jokes.

“You sound so sure,” Sharon declares.

“I always thought this one sounded a little nicer, anyway,” Steve says when he pulls into Countryside Acres. “Less pretentious.”

Bucky sticks out his tongue playfully. He’s still adding up his Life tiles.

When T’Challa crosses the last space, he says, “So the true winner is the one with the most money, correct?”

“Yup,” says Natasha, who slides in after him and pulls out her phone for the calculator.

“It’s usually that cheater,” teases Sam, nodding at her, “‘cause of the $100k salary, but not always.”

But actually, it turns out T’Challa has the most money. “Oh,” he says, looking pleasantly surprised. “I suppose the Life tiles helped.”

“Thank goodness,” teases Bucky, “the queen has been dethroned.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “ _You_ won last time, James.”

Bucky bumps her shoulder with his. “Still.”


	107. this much I know what does it mean you leave and I follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha accidentally becomes a cat owner. Everyone thinks this is hilarious.

Morning shifts aren’t Natasha’s favorite, but she does like getting out early enough to do stuff with the rest of her day if she wants. It’s a little after three and the sun is high in the sky, and she’s feeling energetic enough to walk home. Clint’s supposed to come over tomorrow because they both don’t have shifts, and they’ll probably play video games or watch dumb B-movies and eat shitty pizza. Tonight she’ll probably go to the studio and dance a bit (it’s the off-season for the troupe, but practice can’t hurt), and then head to bed early.

She’s listening to Sleigh Bells loudly enough and lost in her own thoughts, so she doesn’t notice the little black cat trotting a few yards behind her right away. Once she does, she stops and stares curiously at it. It stops too, and continues to stare at her.

“Not sure what you think you’re doing,” she says, “but if you’re looking for a handout, move along, cat.”

The cat sits down and begins to wash a paw.

Natasha keeps walking, thinking nothing of it. But not five minutes later she glances back and the damn cat is still following her. “Great,” she mutters. She briefly considers throwing something at it, but she can’t override the ideas she grew up with, that cats are good luck. _Good luck, my ass._

Instead, she pulls out her phone and texts Clint. His shift doesn’t start till 3:30, he should still be able to answer.

>> _how do you get rid of a cat?_

Sure enough, his response pops up a minute later.

_> >is this a euphemism or do you mean like, meow purr actual live cat?_

_> >I mean actual cat, idiot. There’s a black cat that’s following me._

_> >gosh, better walk under a ladder or something to cancel that out._

_> >shut up. You’re no help at all._

_> >you knew I wouldn’t be._

Natasha sighs and tries walking faster. The cat trots behind her.

Once she reaches her apartment, Natasha bolts for the building in a way that would be slightly undignified if anyone was looking (they’re not). Her apartment is on the ground floor, and she tosses her purse to the ground and goes to rummage for a snack.

Of course, she didn’t consider that her couch is within sight of the kitchen window.

There’s a soft _thump_ about fifteen minutes later, when she’s half-watching a random _Criminal Minds_ rerun. She jumps, her head whipping around to the window, then glares when she sees the little black cat staring at her. “Christ,” she grumbles. “You’re an annoying little bastard.”

The cat sits down and washes its ear.

Just before she leaves for the studio, she glances over to see that the cat has left. “Good riddance,” she mutters, double-checking the door is locked.

She likes going to the studio later in the evening, or around dinnertime, because it’s nearly deserted. Not that she’s one of those divas who can’t dance with distractions around, but it’s a different feeling knowing she’s the only person in the room.

A couple hours later, she leaves sweaty and in a good mood, ready to relax once she gets home. Which means, of course, that the first thing she sees when she opens the door is the cat, curled up on her favorite chair.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

 

* * *

 

She decides the cat is not her problem until after she’s showered and eaten, so she does that, ignoring the occasional inquisitive meow from the chair once the cat has woken up and smelled the chili she’s heating up. Only after she’s left the dishes to soak does she cautiously walk over to the cat, who seems to have made itself right at home.

It doesn’t seem malnourished, just a little skinny, and it’s not wearing a collar. Its golden eyes stare at her, which is more than a little creepy. “C’mere,” Natasha says, going to pick it up. The little bastard starts to purr.

“Don’t think you can make up for being an annoying little shit by being cute,” she scolds it. It keeps purring.

Natasha sits down in the chair and tries to put the cat on the floor, but it promptly hops up and tries to sit in her lap again. She tries shoving it away, but it just settles back where it was. “Fine,” she sighs. “What the hell do I do with you?”

Five minutes of googling get her a vet’s office that opens at eight AM the next day, and a short list of human foods that cats can eat.

“Don’t get used to this,” she scolds as she scoops out half a can of tuna for the cat, who immediately purrs even louder and starts eating. “If you’ve got an owner, you’re going back to them right away.”

The cat, of course, doesn’t answer.

That night, Natasha makes sure her bedroom door is shut. This cat seems like the type to try to sleep on her head.

 

* * *

 

Natasha’s woken up by the cat meowing - two hours later than she was supposed to be up.

“ _Goddammit!_ ” she hisses, rolling out of bed and opening her bedroom door. The cat meows insistently and starts to wind itself around one of her legs.

“Stop that,” she grunts, nudging it away with a foot. “Damn faulty alarm app. What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?”

She _could_ text Clint and say, no, don’t come over, I got called in for an emergency shift, but then he would probably try and bring her lunch at work or something. They’d agreed sometime between ten and eleven, whenever he got up, and either way it’s nine fifty two now and there’s _no_ way to get the cat to the vet and have it checked out before he gets here.

“Alright,” she sighs. “C’mon, you little shit.” The cat trots after her into the kitchen, where she gives it the rest of the tuna and a mug of water. Then she stumbles back into her bedroom to find some clothes.

The cat seems to be making itself at home on one of the dumb throw pillows Steve bought her when the buzzer sounds. “Shit,” she mutters, glancing first at the door, then at the cat. Then she sprints to the door, buzzes Clint in, and grabs both the cat and the half-full mug of water before throwing open her coat closet door and tossing the cat inside, putting the mug in after it and shutting the door. “You’ll be fine in there,” she says. “I guess I’ll take you to the vet later.”

Clint comes up, holding a giant bag of chips and the box for his Xbox. “Hey,” he says with a nod. “I brought _Rocket League_ and _Borderlands 2._ ”

“Sounds good,” says Natasha. “Want anything to drink?”

“Nah, not yet. Maybe later.” Clint ambles over and starts to plug in the system.

They start up a game of _Rocket League_ , which is blessedly mind-numbing and silly, and Natasha almost forgets about the stupid cat until it meows. Clint’s so startled he completely forgets to block Natasha’s shot, and she makes a goal. “Fuck! What was that?”

Natasha tries to play it cool. “Nothing. Maybe it came from next door.”

Clint shrugs and tries to get the ball away from her when the next round starts up.

But then ten minutes later the cat meows again. “Okay, _that_ didn’t come from next door,” Clint says, pausing the game. “Did you get a cat or something?”

“Not...exactly,” she starts to explain, but then the cat meows again. Clint gets up to follow the noise. “It’s in the closet.”

“The closet? Why…” Clint opens the door and the cat darts out. “Nat, why was there a cat in the closet?”

“So you remember when I texted you yesterday about a cat?”

“Yes…”

“Well, the little bastard followed me all the way home and let itself in while I was at the studio last night. I was gonna take it to the vet and check for a chip or something this morning, but I overslept.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I fed it before you got here and left it with water, it was fine.”

Clint has knelt down and is offering the cat his finger to sniff. It does, then lets him scratch it under the chin. “Aw, it seems sweet,” he says. “Can I come to the vet with you?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna do it right _now…_ ”

“Well, yeah, but we should figure out if it’s got an owner,” Clint points out. “Laura’s got a cat carrier for Firepaw, I can text her and see if she’s busy today.”

Natasha sighs. “Yeah, okay. I guess we’d better take care of this now.”

 

* * *

 

“So who’s the mystery kit?” Laura calls, appearing at Natasha’s door with a big smile.

“That.” Natasha points at the very satisfied-looking cat curled up on Clint’s lap.

“Aw, not even a personal pronoun?” Laura pouts.

“I guess it hasn’t tried to piss on anything,” says Natasha, “so it must be a girl?”

“You know there are ways to check,” Laura rolls her eyes, reaching for the cat. “See? Girl.”

“Whatever,” says Natasha, chuckling. “I mean, I’m not keeping her, so I didn’t think that was important.”

“Speaking of which, we should probably get going,” points out Clint. “Since you want to get her off your hands so badly and all.”

Natasha snorts. “Yeah, let’s get going. Laura, you know how to put cats in carriers…?”

“It’s really not that hard,” Laura points out, making it seem effortless.

“Your girlfriend is a cat whisperer,” Natasha says to Clint, who laughs.

“I do what I can,” Laura coos.

They walk over to the clinic, Clint and Laura holding hands while Natasha lugs the carrier behind them. “How is it that I ended up a third wheel on my own friend-date?” she mutters to the cat, who doesn’t answer.

It’s not very busy, and Dr. Streiten is examining the cat within ten minutes. “You say she just...followed you home?” he asks Natasha, eyebrow raised.

“Trust me, I know how weird that sounds,” replies Natasha. “But that’s what happened. Then she snuck into my apartment, little bastard.”

The vet laughs. “I find cats are far more intelligent than we give them credit for. This one was probably just hungry.” He finishes checking her over and says, “I’m afraid she doesn’t seem to have a chip, but she’s otherwise fairly healthy. More than likely, she had an owner who didn’t bother to collar or chip her and she just wandered off.”

“That means she’s yours now!” crows Clint with a shit-eating grin.

Natasha sighs. “Laura, you want another cat?”

“Firepaw wouldn’t want, I don’t think,” Laura says apologetically.

“I don’t suppose you guys take in strays?” Natasha asks Dr. Streiten.

He smiles. “Not unless the animal is in some sort of obvious danger with its current owner. It’s a legal thing, I’m afraid. You might try Craigslist, or the local shelter is a no-kill.”

“Alright,” sighs Natasha, absently petting the cat as it butts its head against her hand. “I’ll figure out something to do with her.”

 

* * *

 

“So you’re going to feed the cat actual cat food, right?” Laura says eagerly.

Natasha shrugs. “I mean, I guess? Any recommendations? I’ve never had to feed a cat before.”

“I kind of just started buying Blue Buffalo because I saw a lot of the ads,” Laura admits. “But it seems to be pretty good?”

“Alright. Do I need anything else for the little monster?”

“Well, dishes,” Laura shrugs.

“You guys up for going to PetSmart?” Natasha asks.

“I have an evening shift, but I can come with to start, at least,” Laura offers.

Clint is still grinning. “I am more than up for anything you wanna do, Nat.”

She rolls her eyes. “Stop laughing at my misfortune. I guess I should drop her off at home-” she glares at the carrier - “and then we can walk over there. It’s not far.”

Ten minutes later, she’s got a shopping basket with several cans of cat food and a pair of cheap plastic dishes, and Clint and Laura are arguing about toys.

“She should just get one of the big feather toys, that’s like four toys in one,” Clint says.

“No, no, variety in the toys!” Laura exclaims. “Otherwise she’ll get bored. She the cat. And a bored cat is a destructive cat.”

“Yeah, but cats will play with bottle caps and straws and shit, she doesn’t need to spend money on fancy toys. Just don’t throw stuff away for a couple days, you’re golden.”

“Are you sure you aren’t talking about Lucky?” Laura smirks.

“I resent that,” he says, sticking his tongue out.

“You guys care way more about this cat than I do,” Natasha says.

“You’ll care,” Laura promises. “Just give it a couple days.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and grabs a little ball that’s made of blue foil and a catnip mouse. They’re both under two dollars, why not.

“What are you going to name her?” Laura asks with a smile.

“I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it,” says Natasha. “She’s not my cat.”

“Well, you can’t keep calling it swear words,” Clint points out. “What happens if a little kid sees her and wants to pet her?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I’m not taking her on walks, she’s not a dog.”

“She clearly likes to come and go, though,” Laura muses.

“I guess. What are you saying?”

“That she’ll be outside where kids could see her at some point, probably,” Laura says.

“So what, you want me to get her a little heart-shaped tag with her name on it?” Natasha smirks.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be heart-shaped, but a collar or something wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Clint has wandered over to the aisle with the collars. “This one’s sparkly!” he calls, holding up one that’s blue and glittery. “And five dollars.”

Natasha sighs. “Whatever. Toss it in.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha definitely _means_ to put pictures of the cat on Craigslist.

But after a week or so, she kind of gets used to having her around. Liho, as she’s come to call her in her head, seems to understand her need for space and, after demanding a few minutes of attention as soon as Natasha comes in the door, is perfectly content to leave her alone for a few hours. She’s made the cat a makeshift bed out of blankets next to the couch, which Liho happily uses.

She wasn’t planning on telling the others about her, since she was planning to find her another home as quickly as possible, but then one day at work during their break Sam mentions that his neighbors are watching the Olympics late into the night and at obscene volumes, and Natasha offers to let him stay with her a couple nights. It honestly doesn’t occur to her to mention Liho until she heads back onto the floor. _Goddammit._

Oh well, she can explain, it’s no big deal.

Their shifts end about the same time, but Sam has to head home to grab clothes first, so she walks home to make dinner and wait for him. Liho greets her, demanding affection, and then calms down as soon as she’s fed. Natasha gets some pasta started.

Sam shows up about forty minutes later, at which point Natasha has decided to say nothing about the cat. He ambles in, smiling. “Smells good, Tasha. Thanks.”

“Oh, this isn’t for you,” she teases, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. “I was planning on eating all of it while you watch.”

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” he says, but whatever else he’s about to say is interrupted by Liho, who wanders over to investigate the new person. She rubs against his leg, tail up. “Uh. Friend of yours?” Sam asks.

“That’s Liho,” Natasha says nonchalantly. “Little pain in the ass followed me home last week, and I haven’t found anyone else to take her yet.”

“Aw, but why would you? She’s cute.” Sam leans down to pick the cat up and then sits down on the couch with her in his lap. Liho immediately starts purring.

“Traitor,” mutters Natasha. “How much sauce do you want on yours?”

“All of it,” Sam replies, petting the cat. “And a beer, if you’ve got one.”

Natasha brings their food over and sits down next to him. “Hey, do _you_ want a cat? She’s pretty okay, she’s a little annoying when you first get home but then she’ll just hang out.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to break you two up,” teases Sam, watching as Liho gets up from his lap to plant herself next to Natasha. “See, she likes you.”

“She likes the smell of food,” says Natasha, rolling her eyes, but she reaches down to scratch Liho’s ears all the same.

“So are you planning on telling Buck and the others anytime soon?”

“It’s not that big a deal. It’s a dumb cat.”

“Yeah, but you know how he is about animals. You’ll be swimming in toys and fancy gadgets and shit in no time.”

Natasha laughs. “Fuck, you’re right. One good argument for not telling him.”

“And the other two will probably just give you some shit and then get over it,” continues Sam. “Maybe more pussy jokes than usual.”

That makes Natasha snort. “That’s true.” She nestles against him and flicks the TV on. “Anything in particular you wanna watch?”

“Nothing sports. If I ever hear about sports again it’ll be too soon,” jokes Sam, putting one arm around her.

“Nothing sports, coming right up.”

Later, they learn something else about Liho: it’s impossible to fool around with her in the room without her trying to jump on one or both of them. Natasha considers throwing her back into the closet for a very long moment. (Sam makes a case for her and they move into the bedroom instead.)


	108. in your fortress you feel like you're more or less safe now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara's first roller derby match goes off pretty well. The other team turns out to be pretty friendly.

“She looks good,” Bucky says proudly as they watch. “Kara, I mean.”

“Hey,” says Natasha, “what about our girl?”

“I mean, she’s okay I guess, sometimes,” he replies, grinning, and she shoves him.

“Sharon always looks good,” Steve points out. “I wouldn’t say it goes without saying, because saying is so much fun, but it’s implied.”

Sam snickers and squeezes Steve’s hand, which he’s holding. “Kissass.”

“It’s only kissing ass if I do it in front of her,” Steve replies with a smile.

“He’s got a point,” agrees Bucky.

“But seriously,” says Natasha, “Kara’s doing well. I think.”

From further down in the bleachers, Rogue overhears them and whoops, “Fuck yeah, Unfragile!”

“Ow,” says Nebula, who is sitting next to Rogue, but she’s smirking like she’s just as pleased as the rest of them.

“And hey, I mean, this match isn’t just an easy win, they seem to have good competition,” Darcy suggests. “These Kingsland girls are pretty badass too.”

Laura nods. “Statistically, they have approximately equal odds of winning.”

“Damn nice ink on some of them too,” Darcy muses. “I like the piece on, uh -” she consults the roster - “Dragon Belle Z. You don’t see a lot of dragon tattoos that don’t look like they’re on steroids.”

Mike laughs. “It’s nice, yeah. I like the horse on that girl, Princess Luna?”

“That name’s not a pun,” says Laura, “just a reference to _My Little Pony._ That’s odd.”

“Princess Luna is probably the edgiest of the little ponies, at least,” Carina offers.

“Dork,” Nebula says, almost warmly, bumping her shoulder against Carina’s.

“Some of them look pretty young,” MJ comments. “Their little jammer can’t be more than eighteen.”

“I like her gay-ass rainbow wolf,” Darcy replies, nodding to that tattoo.

MJ laughs. “Yeah. Probably means either her parents are really cool, or permissive and don’t pay a ton of attention. Which isn’t always a bad thing,” she adds with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Clint and Laura are standing by the rail. “Ooh, nice one,” Clint says, as Ororo sends one of the Kingsland girls flying. “I sure wouldn’t want to go up against Ororo.”

“They both seem pretty tough,” Laura says. “This is incredibly badass.”

Clint grins. “Would you ever wanna do it? You’d look good out there.”

“Oh, god, I’d fall over,” she laughs. “It’s super cool but I am definitely not that coordinated.”

“Aw, well I bet you could. But then, I couldn’t.”

She smirks. “It can’t be any harder than pole vaulting.”

“Honestly, it’s probably less dangerous. Less of the flying through the air.”

Rhodey smiles when Kara, one of the blockers in this round, shoves off a girl probably twice her size. “This is sure an...interesting sport,” he remarks to Karen, who’s sitting next to him..

Karen shrugs cheerfully. “I mean, it’s no more violent than football,” she says, cheering loudly as Kara intercepts another girl, the redhead designated “Arrow Miss.”

“This looks like a lot of fun, actually,” says Elektra, smirking. “I definitely see the appeal.”

“I mean, not to get all weird, but don’t you...worry about her a little?” Rhodey asks.

“Well, yeah, but also no,” Karen shrugs. “It’s dangerous like anything is dangerous, but I trust that she can take care of herself.”

Rhodey nods. “I know, and she’s doing fine, but...y’know. I’m glad she’s happy, either way.”

Elektra raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a particular reason for caring?”

Looking a bit embarrassed, Rhodey says, “We’re friends, so…”

Foggy coughs. “Uh huh,” he says, and Matt quietly chuckles.

“I think, y’know, the cool thing about derby is that it’s a really safe outlet for controlled violent impulses,” Karen says. “Especially because girls don’t get nearly as many of those.”

Matt nods. “It’s good she has that. I sympathize,” he says with a wry smile.

“I’d hardly call your own outlets controlled or safe,” Karen teases him, bumping his shoulder.

“Oh, Matthew, are you still mixed up in that cage-fighting business?” Elektra asks. Matt makes a face and doesn’t respond.

“How long has that been going on, anyway?” Karen exclaims.

“Do you want the real answer or one that will make you feel better?” cracks Foggy.

“Definitely the real one,” Karen says.

Matt mutters an answer, then when Foggy nudges him sharply, he repeats, “Since undergrad.”

“Your lack of truly serious injuries astounds me,” Karen chirps.

“I’m lucky,” deadpans Matt.

Rhodey laughs. “Does this conversation happen a lot?”

“No,” says Foggy at the same time Karen says, “Yes.”

Gamora, who is the jammer this round, passes her last opponent seconds before the buzzer sounds and the announcer declares the point, and Mike starts clapping and whooping. “That’s my girl!”

Carina’s response is to immediately yelp, then glance at Nebula anxiously.

Nebula grabs her hand. “Hey, we’re all proud, but keep it down?” she grunts to Mike, who looks chagrined.

“Sorry, Carina.”

“You’re fine,” Carina says. “Just, you know.” Also, and she’s not saying this, she’s a bit worried about how Nebula will react to him calling Gamora “his” anything, but that’s pretty usual.

“Damn, she was kicking ass out there,” Luke says to Jessica, referring to Trish.

Jessica smirks. “Obviously. She loves this shit. And she looks damn good in the outfit too.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Don’t let her hear you say that, Jones, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

* * *

 

“Trust me,” Foggy says to Matt, “she was really great out there.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Matt with a wry smile. “People were definitely making a lot of noise on her behalf.”

“She deserved it!” Karen exclaims. “I mean, they were all great, y’know, but she… this was a hell of a first time!”

Elektra smirks. “Do you have a particular reason to be proud, Karen?”

“Yes,” Karen says. “She’s been working really hard and I’m glad for her.” This, of course, isn’t all of it, but it’s not a _lie_.

“And anyway,” Kara giggles as she emerges from the dressing room, companionably chatting with the tall redhead who is alias Larked to Kill, “the incredible timing of this just feels like a big, defiant ‘fuck you,’ you know?”

The other girl nods, serious though she’s smiling. “Occasionally those happen,” she says. “I’ve learned to enjoy them.”

“Hey!” Karen shouts, waving eagerly. “You kicked so much ass.” She runs to fling her arms around Kara.

Matt grins. “I was told that too,” he says, and Foggy nods.

“I like your technique,” purrs Elektra. “How long have you been on the team?”

“This is my first time in front of an audience,” Kara says sheepishly, pushing her hair back.

“You had all of us fooled,” says Larked to Kill. “Very good at what you do.”

Of course, this makes Kara blush.

“You were both great,” says Rhodey, smiling first at Kara and then at the redhead. “How about you, this definitely didn’t look like it was your first match.”

“No,” Larked to Kill giggles. “I got into it because someone had to keep an eye on my sister, but -” Another of the Kingsland girls, a brunette with giant yellow roses tattooed on her shoulder - matches the name, Thorning Glory - slinks up and gets cozy at her side. “Well, there have been reasons to get into it.”

“You were just watching,” Thorning Glory murmurs, smirking openly at Kara’s fanclub but especially Karen and Elektra.

Elektra smirks back. “I like your tattoos,” she says. “Very elegant.”

“Mm, thank you,” Thorning Glory replies, though she’s winding her arm around her teammate’s (and presumably object of affection’s) waist. “They’re a bit of a family thing, roses. Though my gran freaked when she saw it at first. Not particularly _ladylike_.”

Elektra chuckles and replies, “Ah yes, I know how families can be. I assume she’s come around since?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re all flamboyant queer problem children in my family, but I’m her only granddaughter so she loves me best.”

Foggy, who is increasingly unnerved by the obvious sexual energy both Elektra and Thorning Glory are giving off, nudges Matt and says in a false-bright voice, “You want a drink, Matt? I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“Oh, I dunno, I wasn’t planning on…”

Foggy pokes him in the ribs. “Water? Soda? Please?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, sure, Fog, that sounds good. Just water.”

“Anyone else?” Foggy asks loudly.

“Ooh, something strong for me,” says Elektra. “I like it strong.” She’s still eyeing both Kingsland girls.

“ _Gross_ ,” yells the little jammer, Dire Straits, who’s still on her skates and takes this as an opportunity to circle the group. “You’re all disgusting.”

“Oh, like you’re not on your way to snog your little princess,” Larked to Kill shouts back, rolling her eyes fondly. As if to confirm, Dire Straits is now skating off to grab the hand of the other youngest Kingsland girl, a blonde going by Bad Mews. To the group she says, “I’m sorry. My sister doesn’t have any manners and also loves giving me a hard time about my…” She shrugs self-effacingly in a way that at least the other girls can interpret accurately.

Rhodey chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Siblings, man.”

 

* * *

 

“Those wings back there?” one of the Kingsland girls, Squid Row she’s called, asks Gamora, nodding at the back of her shoulders where her tattoo is peeking out from under her tank top.

Gamora nods, smirking just a bit. “This is more than most people get to see of them, too,” she says.

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Squid Row coos. “I bet they’re as gorgeous as the rest of you.”

“I’m flattered,” Gamora chuckles. “You got any tattoos?”

Squid Row nods. “Normally it’d be the first thing you saw on me,” she replies, sounding almost proud. “But it’s a kraken, and some of the girls tipped me off to the, ah, octopus problem you have to deal with around here. Thought it’d be polite.”

“Oh, and aren’t you always Miss Manners,” another girl, this one designated Whipsy Danger, drawls, sidling up with a beer in hand and tossing her braided hair over her shoulder with a flourish. “You’ll pardon, she thinks she’s a ladykiller.”

Squid Row rolls her eyes, playfully shoving her teammate. “And you don’t?”

“I save the killing for men,” Whipsy Danger retorts brightly. “Ladies I just enjoy.” She says this with a rather obvious smirk in Gamora’s direction.

“Ha,” Squid Row exclaims. “Unfortunately, we keep the murder to a minimum.”

“Unless you’re into that sort of thing,” Whipsy Danger adds.

A third Kingsland girl, the one puzzlingly called Princess Luna, joins them with an expression like she’s having to babysit. “You are both ridiculous,” she says, then, to Gamora: “This is just what they do at these things.”

“Talk about man murder?” Darcy asks, appearing and giving all three of the Kingsland girls the exact sort of looks the first two have been giving Gamora.

“Hit on girls,” Princess Luna drawls.

Darcy shrugs cheerfully. “I mean, I wouldn’t object.” This, predictably, gets her an approving once-over from Squid Row.

“And you?” Whipsy Danger asks Gamora.

“I’m flattered,” Gamora says again, “but I’m already involved.”

As if on cue, Mike wanders over. “Hey!” he says to Gamora, grinning. “Great match, you kicked ass.” But he doesn’t initiate physical contact, because she prefers to.

“Hey yourself,” Gamora hums, reaching for his hand. “My sister around here somewhere?”

“She was right behind me, I dunno-”

“Here,” says Nebula, who has Carina in tow. “Nice job, G.” She gives Gamora the faintest of smiles.

“Thanks,” Gamora replies, nodding back.

“Damn,” Whipsy Danger croons, “your arm is gorgeous, Atlas Slugged’s sister.”

“Thanks,” says Nebula, looking pleased. “She did it.” She gestures to Gamora. “She’s got a shop with a friend of ours.”

“Impressive,” Squid Row says approvingly. “He knows he’s lucky, right?” She clearly means Mike, but she doesn’t address him directly.

Mike laughs and nods. “I definitely do,” he assures her. “Gamora is amazing.”

Nebula makes a gagging noise, and the other Helldivers wander up. “Are they being obscenely cute again?” MJ teases.

“Yes. It’s revolting,” replies Nebula.

Laura blinks at Princess Luna. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand your derby name. I know it’s a reference to _My Little Pony_ , but it’s not a pun?”

“I don’t enjoy coming up with puns,” replies Princess Luna, shrugging, “and I like horses, but I didn’t want to sound like the derby I belonged in was the Kentucky.”

Laura laughs. “Oh, that makes sense. It’s very nice!”

“Thank you,” says Princess Luna, and she gives her teammates a pointed look. “See? Some people like it.”

Whipsy Danger smirks. It’s an old argument. “Derby names are a spectrum, I think,” she says, mostly to the non-derby people. “At one end, you’ve got the nonsensically literal like her…” She motions to Princess Luna with a flourish. “Then in the middle, you get the clever puns like mine. And then…”

“Then there’s your sister,” Squid Row finishes.

“Which one is your sister?” Carina asks.

“Well, two of them,” Whipsy Danger shrugs. She nods in the direction of the bar. “Lady MacDeath is the one who looks too stoic for any parking lot party. The sister being referred to is…” She makes eye contact with another girl, short-haired and walking around with a bottle of bright blue alcohol in her hand.

“Making friends?” the newest arrival asks, grinning with just a slight touch of evil.

“Trying to do one better,” Whipsy Danger smirks. “Introduce yourself, it’s polite.”

“They must have seen,” the girl says. “You’re just a prude and enjoy mocking me.” She holds out a hand, and if they thought they’d seen sex eyes before they were apparently mistaken because she’s got them for days. “Elixer Pussy.”

Darcy snorts, though fondly. “That’s certainly at the other end of the spectrum.”

Elixer Pussy shrugs. “I like poison and I like pussy. It’s not complicated.”

“Not real poison,” Princess Luna rolls her eyes.

“The best, most fun kind of poison!” Elixer Pussy croons, waving her bottle.

Rogue laughs. “I like you, you don’t pull punches.”

“That would be boring.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh hey, look at that, somebody brought dogs.” Luke nods to the back of a pickup, where two enormous fluffy dogs are climbing all over two of the Kingsland girls.

“Oh!” Trish exclaims, and before the other two have a chance to react she’s rushing over. It’s Larked to Kill and Dire Straits, accompanied by a guy they’re probably related to (their respective girlfriends are at the bar, Bad Mews trying and failing - given her age - to acquire a Mike’s Hard Strawberry while Thorning Glory supervises). “What cute dogs! They’re yours?”

Dire Straits grins. “Yeah,” she says. “They live with our parents right now, though. Which is why our very best cousin ever brought them ‘round to visit.” The boy waves.

“That’s so nice,” Trish coos. “Is it okay if I…?” She holds her hand out tentatively.

“You can pet Lady,” Larked to Kill says, nodding to her dog. “She’s very well-behaved and she’s nice to strangers. _Hers_ on the other hand…”

“Nymeria only attacks when I tell her to,” Dire Straits retorts, still smiling widely. “C’mon, you can come say hi.”

“Awesome,” says Jessica, stepping closer to eye Nymeria.

Luke’s gone over to scratch Lady behind the ears. “They’re huge, do you know what breed they are?”

“Big and fluffy,” Dire Straits says. “We don’t know for sure, they were found abandoned in the woods. Them and their brothers.”

“Oh no!” Trish yelps. “That’s so sad.”

The girls’ cousin shrugs. “We took the lot of them home and they’ve been spoiled ever since,” he says, meaning to be encouraging.

“You tellin’ the dog rescue story again?” calls Arrow Miss, sauntering up arm-in-arm with a blonde that honestly looks like Elsa’s punk cousin. “He loves that.”

The blonde smirks. “He gets to be the hero, and it’s got a happy ending,” she says. “I think it’s cute.” To prove this she goes to kiss him, but she tugs Arrow Miss along and then kisses her too.

“Oh hey,” Jessica says, smirking, “you guys are a unit too, huh?”

Arrow Miss nods, smug as anything. “It felt a crime to keep his talented tongue all to myself.”

 

* * *

 

“...and then he hit one of them in the face with a chair!” Bucky says, looking proud.

Steve blushes, scratching at the back of his neck. “It was the best thing around,” he says.

Their audience for the story is a few of the Kingsland girls, the much-tattooed Dragon Belle Z and her apparent girlfriend Doll and Chain and curly-haired Deus Wrecks Machina, who are listening very appreciatively (the latter of them is constantly texting her boyfriend, but she’s engaged in the conversation at hand too). “Surprised you’ve never tried that,” Doll and Chain teases, bumping the other girl’s shoulder.

“We both know hitting’s not my style,” Dragon Belle Z retorts fondly.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Not what it looked like out there, which I mean as a compliment.”

“Off the track, it’s not,” Dragon Belle Z corrects, smirking. “It’s par for the course here.”

“Duh,” says Bucky, rolling his eyes playfully at Natasha, who makes a face at him. “So yeah, the two of us and a couple of our friends fought them off while Sam went in the back room and found the dog.”

“And the most pathetic seventeen-year-old you ever saw in your life,” says Sam, shaking his head. “I can’t say I felt that sorry for him, but how quickly he folded, I felt a little sorry for him.”

“She was okay, right?” Deus Wrecks Machina prompts.

“They’d drugged her, but she was still breathing,” Steve says. “Which was good luck on our part.”

“The sick fucks were just waiting for the right moment,” Sharon adds, rolling her eyes.

“Gods,” Dragon Belle Z mutters disgustedly.

“We got her back to Kara, though, don’t worry,” says Bucky. “She’s a very happy, healthy dog.”

“Spoiled rotten, by all accounts,” says Sam cheerfully.

“Who’s that?” Kara asks as she and Larked to Kill take a break from their current dog-related activities and come over for drinks.

“Oh, we were telling them about our dashing rescue of your dog,” explains Bucky, “and how now you spoil her even more than you already did.”

“Guilty as charged,” Kara smirks, holding her hands up. “She’s pretty much my favorite thing, and I wanna make it up to her, even though, y’know, she’s a dog and that’s probably not how she thinks about things.”

Larked to Kill nods sagely. “When something gives you that much unconditional love, you’re not always going to think particularly rationally,” she says.

“God,” Sharon laughs, shaking her head, “I keep meaning to say. You remind me so much of my friend Jean from work.”

“Thanks, I think?” Larked to Kill laughs.

“It’s a good thing,” Sharon promises. “You’re both gorgeous, and based on our limited acquaintance I can hazard a guess that you’re both sweet.”

“Usually,” Larked to Kill smiles.

“You guys have got to meet her dog,” Kara enthuses. “Such a darling.”

Natasha nudges Bucky, grinning. “Oh, a dog. You’d better go investigate, James.”

“I’m not one of _those_ dog people,” scoffs Bucky, but he does look interested. “What breed have you got?” he asks Larked to Kill.

“We’re not sure, exactly, but she’s giant,” Larked to Kill grins. “And very polite, too.”

“How did you accomplish that?” Sam asks. “This one-” he points at Bucky “-has two giant-ass Great Danes and they always try and sit on me.”

“I’ve had her from a puppy, so I guess it’s a combination of guidance and luck,” Larked to Kill shrugs. “My sister’s is the sitting on people type, which by that theory speaks to our personalities.” It’s clearly not meant with any ill will.

“Your cheerful sibling rivalry never ceases to amaze me,” Dragon Belle Z sighs.

“Sorry, D,” Larked to Kill says sheepishly.

“Not your fault my brother’s a dick,” Dragon Belle Z shrugs. To her new acquaintances she explains, “He’s the kind of entitled ass who’d be quick to join your town’s gang under the right circumstances. Pray he never comes close to them.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, nodding apologetically. “But it seems like you’ve got a pretty good found family to make up for it?”

Dragon Belle Z looks from Doll and Chain to Deus Wrecks Machina to Larked to Kill and nods, smiling. “I’m deeply fond of all of them,” she agrees, kissing her girlfriend’s cheek.

“That’s important,” Bucky says, grabbing Steve’s hand and squeezing it. Natasha, on his other side, puts her hand on his arm. Sharon and Sam nod.

 

* * *

 

“So I’m lying there like, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, and then I hear someone ask ‘what the hell happened?’ And I’m like ‘no no I’m fine’ and she was like ‘no, you’re not, you got your ass kicked, do you need...ass ice?’”

“Geez,” Laura mutters, facepalming. She’s not actually upset, but she’s just a tiny bit embarrassed, because in retrospect… ass ice? Really?

“It was hilarious and adorable,” Clint insists, turning to the group of Kingsland girls listening to the story. “It’s hilarious, right?”

“Is ass ice somehow _different_ from other ice?” asks one of the teenagers who’s not actually on the team but tagged along as a water and towels girl, inexplicably listed as Bearly Lethal in the program. It sounds more cutting than it actually is.

“I mean, it could be?” Laura defends, blushing a bit. “Or how you would… arrange it, maybe.”

The other water girl, alias Shilo Bloodlust, giggles gently. “Please don’t worry, that’s how she is with everyone.”

Clint smiles at Laura. “I just like telling people how cute you are.”

“Precious,” drawls Lady MacDeath, who’s been fidgeting expertly with her straw for the last ten minutes. “Is this what stands for chivalry nowadays?”

“Figurative chivalry, of course,” Shilo Bloodlust pipes up eagerly.

“I think it’s charming,” says Knight Ride Her, who’s easily the tallest and most muscular of the Kingsland team.

Clint shrugs. “I hope you don’t mean the shitty definition of chivalry,” he says, grinning.

“Which definition do you hold to?” Lady MacDeath asks, smirking.

“I mean, I don’t like the word at all. Too much baggage. I just try to be nice to people, and especially her.” Clint puts his hand on Laura’s arm.

“He actually means it,” Hope V. chimes in, rolling her eyes and smiling. “They’re acceptable heteros.”

“High compliment,” Pam declares, leaning on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“What defines unacceptable heteros?” Bearly Lethal asks archly.

“The ones who stay together and make each other miserable constantly,” Hope says without missing a beat. “That would be true of anyone, but it’s especially prevalent in heteros.”

“It is,” Shilo Bloodlust agrees, wrinkling her nose. “Said the living embodiment of the ‘for the children’ excuse that parents employ to justify that.”

“Mine and my sisters’ offer to share our cool adults always stands,” Lady MacDeath says. “Who, incidentally, are neither of the things you say, Buzz.”

Hope smirks. “Lucky you.”

“I’d like to think I’d be pretty good at noticing and taking care of it if he got too miserable,” Laura declares innocently.

Clint nods. “You would, don’t worry,” he says. “I turn into a fucking baby when I’m miserable.”

“You all seem pretty happy with your people,” Laura offers, nodding to the Kingsland girls (the older two of whom haven’t been exactly demonstrative, but have certainly exchanged a fair share of meaningful glances; the younger two of whom are about as snuggly as young teenagers in their first relationship are going to be). “Very, I dunno. Held together.”

“It’s managed against reasonable odds, so thank you,” Knight Ride Her declares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kingsland Derby Girls roster: Dragon Belle Z, Doll and Chain, Princess Luna, Deus Wrecks Machina, Squid Row, Lady MacDeath, Whipsy Danger, Elixer Pussy, Bad Mews, Dire Straits, Larked to Kill, Thorning Glory, Knight Ride Her, and the water girls Shilo Bloodlust and Bearly Lethal. Yes, this derby team is meant to be composed of characters from another fandom, and yes it is at maximum capacity but every character is included on purpose.


	109. I do what I can wherever I end up to keep giving my good love and spreading it around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Jemma run into many people at the queer bar, including someone unexpected. Bobbi and her date are a topic of interest.

“Aw, I see Hope brought her little pet,” says Melinda, smirking and nodding at where Hope and Pam are seated a few tables away.

“I hope they’re having a good time,” Sif says. “I wouldn’t think this would be Hope’s usual scene.”

Melinda shrugs. “Probably wants to show off. That’s why I’d come.”

“Oh yeah?” Sif raises an eyebrow. “I’m just arm candy, hm?”

“Pretty much,” teases Melinda. “Sorry you had to find out this way.”

Sif grins and tosses her head. “I don’t know how I’ll go on. I might just leave right now.”

“Don’t,” says Melinda fondly. “Unless you’re going to get another drink, of course.”

“Well, maybe I _will_ ,” replies Sif. “You want anything?”

“You know what I like.”

“Shirley Temple it is,” says Sif with a wink, standing up and snickering when she sees Melinda roll her eyes playfully.

Sif ambles over to the bar, waiting for the bartender to look her way, then blinks when she realizes that the two people next to her are Bobbi and Audrey, sitting close together. “Hey,” she says. “You two here...together?”

“Well, I’d hardly let her come alone,” Bobbi quips.

“Let me!” Audrey exclaims, laughing.

“Yeah,” Bobbi says with a playful shrug. “I’d be missing out on all the fun.”

“The fun that is… me at the gay bar?” Audrey supplies.

“That’s the thing,” Bobbi agrees.

Sif chuckles. “Well, as long as you’re both having a good time.” Finally she flags down the bartender and orders drinks for herself and Melinda, before turning back to Bobbi. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi says. “Figured it had a good vibe. A little classy, a little gay, a little rock and roll.”

“I think it’s nice,” Audrey offers, smirking. “Good…” She lets her eyes wander. “Good fit.”

Sif smirks. It’s adorable watching Audrey in this environment. “Well, you two have fun tonight,” she says, grabbing the drinks as they arrive and standing up to leave.

Bobbi waves just a little bit sarcastically. “Expect more of that,” she says to Audrey, smirking even more.

“Of what?” Audrey asks.

“Oh, just…” Bobbi shrugs. “You’re the new kid in town. Don’t be surprised if this is initiation night.”

“The new kid in queer town, you mean?” Audrey says bluntly.

“Something like that,” Bobbi laughs. “But hey, for what it’s worth, if anyone teases too rough I’ll kick their ass.”

“How very gallant of you,” Audrey murmurs.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I kicked someone’s ass here,” Bobbi chirps.

“I’m surprised they still let you in,” Audrey teases.

“They’d miss me too much,” Bobbi replies, preening. “I’m fun. Plus, bars like when hot girls show up. Good for business.”

“You rang?” Skye singsongs, coming up behind Bobbi to poke her in the shoulder. She’s got Jemma’s hand in her other hand.

“Did I?” Bobbi coos.

“Hot girls?” Skye asks, grinning and gesturing to herself and Jemma. “C’mon.”

“I guess,” Bobbi says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me you came here to dance.”

“We came here to come,” Jemma corrects. “Here. To come here. Er. To be here, at this place. As bars go it’s acceptable.”

Skye giggles. “You’re adorable.”

“Adorable enough you’ll buy me a drink?” Jemma says, trying for playful.

“Sure,” agrees Skye. “What do you want?”

“The one with the peach,” Jemma suggests. “By the way, hello, Audrey.”

“Hi, Jemma, hey, Skye,” Audrey chuckles. “You guys are endearing.”

Skye winks. “We try,” she says, waving down the bartender.

“Have you been here long?” Jemma asks.

“Not too,” Bobbi says. “But hey, the night is young and who knows what will happen, or something.”

“Yeah, unexpected things happen all the time,” says Skye suggestively.

“Is it just you two tonight?” Bobbi asks, completely ignoring that remark.

“Yeah, bars aren’t exactly Fitz’s scene,” says Skye, “so he and Trip are back at the apartment watching Netflix or something. Like, actually watching Netflix.”

“Precious,” Bobbi says. “It’s nice and peaceful for them, I guess.”

Jemma blushes. “Yes,” she says. “Very quiet.”

Mack and Bruce wander up and Mack waves. “Hey, guys,” he says with a grin. “Fancy running into you here.”

“It’s a popular hangout,” Bobbi replies blithely.

“Apparently,” says Bruce, chuckling. “It’s not terrible tonight, though. Not too loud or anything.”

“Always refreshing when you can hear yourself think in a bar,” Audrey giggles.

“You here with her?” Mack asks Bobbi, nodding at Audrey.

“Wouldn’t be very sporting to make her take her first run alone,” Bobbi replies, squeezing Audrey’s hand to show she means it nicely.

Mack smirks. “That’s good of you.”

“I’m having a good time so far,” Audrey offers. “Everyone’s being very, uh, hospitable.”

“There aren’t as many tourists tonight as sometimes,” Jemma snarks, “so the hospitality is going to be much more consistent.”

Skye snorts. “She means no bachelorette parties and shit. Y’know, the random straight people that wander into queer bars for laughs.”

“I can imagine that would be awkward,” Audrey says, grimacing.

“It is,” Bobbi agrees. “Worse is when it’s straight men.”

Bruce laughs and nods. “Been in some very awkward situations with straight men in this bar, actually.”

“You’ve been in some awkward situations with non-straight guys here, too,” teases Mack, to which Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Am I accurately assuming that the non-straight guy in question was Tony?” Bobbi prompts, smirking.

“How’d you guess?” says Bruce, returning the smirk. “He wanted to try and hook up with a guy, which worked out about as you’d imagine. There was karaoke involved. It was an Adele song.”

“Tony should really just try behaving like a human sometimes,” Audrey observes.

“That would be nice,” chuckles Bruce, “but not realistic, unfortunately. I told him to find another wingman after that.”

“Hopefully not Rhodey,” says Skye. “I think he’s smarter than that.”

“And he’s not exactly… unencumbered enough to be good at wingmanning,” Jemma suggests.

“Not that that would be enough to convince Tony,” snarks Mack. “But here’s hoping. Rhodey’s too good a dude to have to deal with that.”

“As dudes go,” Bobbi muses, “they’re either too good to have to deal with that or too bad to want to think about them playing the wingman at all, for the sake of potential targets.”

“Targets,” Audrey repeats, chuckling. “You make it sound so nefarious.”

“As far as Tony Stark and his ilk are concerned, it’s all nefarious,” Bobbi says.

Mack nods. “Pretty much. Well, anyway, we’ll get out of your hair for now.” He and Bruce head for a table, waving goodbye.

Jemma nudges Skye pointedly, one eyebrow up, and Skye echoes, “Yeah, we’re gonna do the same. Have fun, you two.” With a last wink, they leave too.

“You’re popular or we’re the source of gossip,” Audrey muses.

“Why can’t it be both?” Bobbi asks casually. “I mean, I think overall this is one of the nicer reasons to be gossiped about.”

“Yeah,” Audrey concedes. “It’s just funny.”

“Not denying that,” Bobbi says.

 

* * *

 

“It’s good to see you, man. Funny, back in high school I never thought I’d see a Ward at the gay bar.”

Skye’s head jerks in the direction that the voice is coming from, and she stops mid-word. “Ssh!” she says to Jemma, who looks confused.

“Well, back in high school I never thought I’d feel safe coming to the gay bar, so I guess that makes sense.”

“Glad it got easier for you, then.”

Skye grabs Jemma’s hand and hisses “C’mon!”, dragging her towards the bar, where the voices seem to be.

“What are you on about?” Jemma asks in a whisper, frowning.

“Somebody over there has the last name Ward,” says Skye softly, sneaking over closer to where the two men are talking.

Jemma goes pale. “I’m sure it’s not… it couldn’t be.”

Skye shrugs, nodding toward the guy she’s pretty sure was the one who identified himself as Ward. He says his goodbyes to the other guy and then turns back to the bar.

Skye takes this opportunity to slide into the seat next to him and say, “Hey, so, uh, I couldn’t help but overhear that your last name is Ward?”

The guy - who does bear resemblance to the Ward they knew - takes one look at Skye and Jemma, staring at him anxiously, and sighs, “You knew my asshole brother, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” says Skye warily. “I’m hoping that means you’re not a total shithead like him?”

“I mean, I try pretty hard not to be,” he says with a self-deprecating shrug.

“So who… are you?” Jemma asks softly, clinging to Skye’s hand.

“Thomas,” he replies. “The youngest of the Ward brothers, technically.”

“I’m Skye and that’s Jemma. So...you’re gay,” Skye says. “And not shitty? No offense but that seems crazy.”

Thomas presses his lips together. “Just because you grow up in a family of abusive monsters doesn’t mean you have to become one,” he says.

Skye nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. It must’ve been shitty, growing up like that. I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to dredge that up.”

“Believe me, it’s nothing I hadn’t already dredged up four times today,” he replies. “Can I ask how you knew Grant, or is that dredging too?”

“Kind of a long story, but basically, he was a creep at both of us for months and then he spent even longer ruining one of our friends’ lives,” snarks Skye. “It was _super_ awesome.”

“I am so sorry,” Thomas says, shaking his head. “I’m guessing she’s the one he got locked up for fucking over.”

“Yes,” Jemma sighs. “I don’t know how many of the details you’ve heard, but trust me when I say you’re happier not knowing them. Whichever you haven’t.”

He nods. “I can imagine, anyway,” he says. “I assume he got even worse with time.”

“Oh yeah,” agrees Skye. “He basically decided nobody should talk to her except for him, and then he hurt her bad enough to get her sent to the hospital. Thank god she left him after that, but then he started stalking her.”

“Christ,” Thomas mutters. “I wish that surprised me.”

“Well, Kara’s fine now,” Jemma says. “Or, she’s safe and she’s happy and she’s getting better and she’s got basically an entire shopping center rallied around her, so that’s something.”

Thomas smiles. “I’m glad,” he says. “Getting your shit together after being subjected to Ward family mindgames can be brutal. It’s good to hear she’s got support.”

“So, I’m guessing the rest of your family wasn’t stellar either,” says Skye.

“Nope,” he declares. “Our parents were such pieces of work that our oldest brother decided tormenting the two of us was the only solution. That and getting Grant to hurt me. Needless to say, I don’t talk to any of them anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jemma exclaims. “That’s - well, you’re apart from it now and that’s good!”

“It’s better than it was, anyway,” he agrees. “Nothing like walking on landmines every day to put normal mediocrities in perspective. But I actually get to be myself, which wasn’t the case when I was a kid, obviously.”

Skye nods. “Hey, that’s something. You here with somebody tonight, or…?”

Thomas nods to the crowd, smiling fondly. “Yeah, he’s more of a dancer than me, though,” he says. “I’m mostly here for the ambiance, but I’m not gonna gripe if he wants to hit the floor a few times.”

“Yeah, that’s the way with this one, too,” Jemma says, smirking. “Sometimes she can talk me into giving it a go, but that’s after drinking, usually.”

“Hopefully later tonight,” teases Skye, squeezing her hand. “She’s so cute when she does dance.”

“Do you mean that as a compliment or like, a backhanded compliment?” Jemma mumbles.

“No, I mean it,” Skye reassures, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “It’s adorable.”

A tall dark-skinned boy comes over to Thomas, grinning. “Hey,” he says. “You made friends while I was gone?”

“Apparently,” Thomas chuckles. “This is my boyfriend, Mack.”

Skye does a double-take. “Wait. I know a guy named Mack, kinda looks like you but taller. Is your last name Mackenzie?”

Smaller-Mack laughs. “Yeah, that’s Alfie, my brother. My name’s Ruben, but my friends call me Mack.”

“Oh my god,” says Skye, eyes lighting up. “ _Alfie_? Oh my god.”

“Yeah, you see why he goes by Mack too,” says smaller-Mack with a smirk.

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” Skye grins. “I wonder if Bobbi knows. Anyway, hi, I’m Skye and this is Jemma.”

“Hey.” Smaller-Mack nods and then turns to Thomas. “Gonna come out and dance with me or you want another drink?”

“Another drink,” Thomas says. “Either the alcohol will go to my head or another drink will buy me enough time for the dance floor to get a little more crowded so nobody will be watching.”

Smaller-Mack grins. “Alright.” He waves for the bartender.

“We’ll get out of your hair, then,” Jemma giggles. “We’re _so_ glad you’re not… well, awful.”

“Thanks, I think,” Thomas replies, chuckling.

Skye grabs Jemma’s hand and skips off to the table where Mack and Bruce are sitting. “Soooooo,” she says, eyes twinkling. “Alfie.”

Mack gives her an exasperated look. “Who told you about that?”

“Oh, nobody,” she singsongs. “Except your little brother. We just ran into him and he told us about your nickname.”

Bruce snorts. “I didn’t know Ruben was here tonight.”

“Neither did I,” says Mack, narrowing his eyes. “I should go kick his ass for this.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Jemma says pleasantly. “I think it’s charming.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” Mack assures her. “I just _should_.”

“Also, did you know he’s dating Ward’s brother?” Skye asks. “But he’s like, not shitty, so it’s fine.”

“Oh, Thomas?” Mack asks. “I knew he had a bad home life. Ruben said he lives with his best friend from high school, who’s got a kid or something. I guess Thomas has been helping her take care of the kid since she was born.”

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims. “That’s wonderful. That he’s doing that.”

“Yeah, he seems like a good kid. I met him once.” Mack smirks. “Our mom loves him. And she’s finally off my back about grandkids, so.”

Skye snickers. “I’m learning _so_ much about you tonight.”

“Great,” mutters Mack.

“Chin up,” Jemma chirps. “I’m sure it’s all meant with fondness.”

“Oh, totally,” says Skye, sitting down on the other side of the table. “Hey, look, Bobbi and Audrey are dancing.”

Jemma sits as well, a bit more sheepishly. “They certainly are,” she murmurs.

“Wait, I don’t mean to be rude,” Bruce says, “but aren’t the two of you...involved with her?”

“Kinda,” says Skye with a shrug. “We do stuff together, but she also does stuff with other people sometimes and it’s not a thing.”

“I mean, she did take Audrey to the prom,” Jemma adds. “So tonight was really more when than if, I think.”

Mack shrugs. “Hey, whatever works for you.”

 

* * *

 

“This is kinda loud, but it’s not as crazy as some of the clubs I’ve been dragged to,” Audrey murmurs. Or tries to murmur, but it’s probably more like soft shouting considering she and Bobbi are still on the dance floor, pressed close together and swaying.

“Dragged, eh?” Bobbi chuckles. “I hope tonight wasn’t you being dragged.”

“Definitely not,” Audrey agrees with a smile. “I’m kind of getting to the point where I need a water break, is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Bobbi says. “It’s important to drink water at clubs. But you knew that already, being a seasoned veteran of them.”

Audrey smirks, and shyly she takes Bobbi’s hand as she heads away from the dancefloor. “Are we the most interesting gossip tonight?” she asks.

“I mean, Hope and Pam just being Hope and Pam… isn’t really gossip,” Bobbi cracks, “so probably. We’re unexpected.”

“We went to prom together,” Audrey points out.

“People are… well, they don’t always make the same connections when it’s two women,” Bobbi says. “Sad truth.” Bobbi eyes the bar for a second before adding, “You gonna be okay if I go freshen up really quick?”

“I’m not exactly helpless,” Audrey replies with a fond roll of her eyes. “Squeeze in whenever you’re back. I’ll be here.”

She waves Bobbi off and then sets about trying to get up to the bartender. Easier said than done, but she’s not in too much of a hurry. While she’s inching over, a deep voice purrs in her ear, “What’s a place like you doing in a girl like this?”

Audrey startles, just a little, but she makes every effort to recover quickly. “I feel like any response I think up won’t be witty enough,” she laughs.

The other woman, who has frizzy blonde hair and yellow-tinted glasses, smirks and looks her up and down. “Face like that, you don’t need to be witty,” she says. “What do you know about Faraday cages?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Audrey says confidently. “It’s kind of a night for that.”

“Do you wanna know about them?”

“That depends,” Audrey murmurs. She’s pretty sure this is flirting, but it’s not any flirting she’s ever dealt with before. Not in a bad way, just… a way.

“Depends on what?” the woman asks, pulling off her glasses and absently gnawing on one of the legs. “You spoken for already?”

“Yes and no?” Audrey replies sheepishly. “I mean, I came with someone. But we’re not exactly…”

“You want a drink?” the woman asks. “I see you’ve got one already, but hydration’s important.” She winks.

“Well, that line was miraculously short for a bar bathroom,” Bobbi announces, sauntering up. “Did you make a new friend?”

“Somethin’ like that,” replies the blonde, turning to Bobbi with a grin. “And you are?”

“Bobbi,” says Bobbi, giving Audrey another amused look. “I’m her tour guide tonight, as it were.”

“And you’re doing a hell of a job. I’d take a tour from you _any_ day. How do you feel about dancing?”

“I think we were gonna rest for a few rounds,” Bobbi replies, leaving space for Audrey to disagree, “but in theory, pretty decent.”

The woman does something weird with her tongue and grins. “So I’ll hit you both up for that later then,” she says, and saunters off without another word.

“Was that another rite of passage?” Audrey asks with a slightly nervous laugh.

“Rest assured,” Bobbi says instead of really answering, “she and I are not the only girls in this bar who are into you.”

As if to prove this, another blonde woman slides up on Audrey’s other side and says, “Hey there, gorgeous. What’s your name?”

“Audrey,” says Audrey, looking at Bobbi for guidance. Bobbi, for her part, nods encouragingly. “And you?”

“I’m Sara. So what brings you here tonight?”

“Uh,” Audrey exclaims. “A date, sort of?”

“Mm, more’s the pity. I was gonna ask if you wanted a drink,” says Sara, smirking.

“I’m working on this one,” Audrey murmurs, trying for flirtatious, “but thank you.”

“I’m guessing you’re the lucky lady,” Sara says, turning to Bobbi. “I won’t get in your way.”

“Appreciated,” Bobbi smirks, “although ‘lucky lady’ makes me feel like I’m in the olden days. Which I’m very glad I’m not.” She reaches out to put a hand on Audrey’s arm, just a little bit possessive.

Sara laughs. “Aren’t we all. Sorry, sometimes I feel like I’m a little stuck in the past. I hope you two have a good night.” She gives them a little salute and wanders off with a last wink.

Audrey scrunches up her face, giggling nervously. “How didn’t I know I’m some kind of… chick magnet?” she squeaks.

“Maybe you’ve just been hanging out with the wrong people,” Bobbi shrugs.

“But I actually haven’t?” Audrey presses. “I mean, honestly, most of my friends here are… most of the girls are into girls? So?”

“Maybe it just wasn’t the time before,” Bobbi says philosophically. “Fill in the greeting card sentiment of your choice about good things happening when you’re ready for them, even if that’s got some problematic implications.”

Melinda comes over and smirks. “You two seem popular.”

“Apparently,” Audrey exclaims. “I would never have figured.”

“You’re a little different than the kind of girls who usually come here. People like different,” says Melinda.

“Is that a compliment to her or an insult to us?” Bobbi asks, though she’s mostly teasing.

Melinda smiles and rolls her eyes. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Morse.” She flags down the bartender and orders drinks for herself and Sif.

“I’d like the compliment,” Audrey chimes in, grinning. “I’m stacking up quite the collection.”

“You’re cute when you’re being arrogant,” Bobbi tells her.

“Better watch it,” teases Melinda, “you don’t want her getting _too_ arrogant.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Bobbi says. “She’s too sweet.”

“She’s also standing right here,” Audrey points out.

“Mm, you are,” Bobbi agrees. “Ready for more dancing yet?”

“Getting there,” Audrey says.

“You two should come dance too,” Bobbi says to Melinda. “I’m sure the crowds will part.”

“Once we finish these, sure,” Melinda says, grabbing the drinks the bartender gives her. “Have fun.”

“I like it here,” Audrey declares, finishing her own drink. “Everyone is being really cool.”

“We try,” Bobbi hums. She reaches for Audrey’s glass to set it on the counter, then reaches for her hand. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Audrey says.

Meanwhile, Skye and Jemma have wandered back to their own table, but when Skye sees Bobbi and Audrey head back to the dance floor she grabs Jemma’s hand and says, “Let’s go dance!”

“Actually dance, or spy while dancing?” Jemma asks.

Skye shrugs. “I mean, we can multitask.”

“You’re devious,” Jemma murmurs.

“You already knew that,” Skye replies, grinning. “So how about it?”

“Shenanigans,” Jemma says with a shrug of concession.

Skye squeezes her hand. “Love you. C’mon!”

“Love you too,” Jemma laughs, following Skye onto the dancefloor.

They end up on the edge of the crowd, dancing close together. Jemma’s not very good at all, which Skye finds endearing. “You’re so cute,” she murmurs in Jemma’s ear.

Jemma rolls her shoulders, she can’t help it. “Thanks,” she says. “You deserve cute.”

“That’s you,” says Skye, pulling her close. “Promise.” She nuzzles against Jemma for a moment and then adds, “Oh hey, look at Audrey and Bobbi.”

Audrey and Bobbi are also dancing very intimately, which isn’t a surprise but still makes Jemma blush. “Yes,” she murmurs. “They’re certainly… doing that.”

“What’s wrong?” teases Skye. “Not jealous, are you?”

“No,” Jemma says immediately. “It’s just… quite. A thing.”

Skye giggles. “Yeah. I’m glad they’re having a good time.” She’s quiet for a few moments before noticing something else and whispering “Holy shit!”

“What now?” Jemma asks, laughing.

“Sif and Melinda are _dancing,_ ” Skye says, nodding as subtly as she can. “Look!”

Sure enough, they are, and Melinda is actually _smiling_ , and Jemma’s eyes go wide. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d do that,” Jemma whispers, awed. “Especially not where people can see.”

“Seriously,” says Skye, grinning. “What do you think they’d do if I asked for a picture?”

“I don’t think I’d want to find out,” Jemma admits.

Skye snickers. “I kinda wanna go ask though.”

“What would you even… I mean, how would you?”

“I dunno. I’d go over and ask, I guess. Then I could run away if they said no.”

“Are you trying to get me to dare you?” Jemma laughs. “Because it won’t work.”

“Nah, I know that. I’d do it either way.” Skye grins and drops her hand before walking away. “Bye!”

Jemma backs away toward the safe and solid wall, gulping.

Skye dances over to where Sif and Melinda are, waits for what feels like an opportune moment, then says, “Hey!”

Sif laughs. “Hello! What brings you over here?”

“Dunno. Just felt like being friendly,” says Skye, trying for casual.

Melinda smirks. “And nothing to do with seeing us act like regular people, I’m sure.”

Skye makes an offended face. “What are you saying? I would never-” Then she grins. “Yeah, okay, that’s pretty much it. Mind if I take a picture for evidence?”

“What do you think, Mel?” Sif asks playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Melinda replies, “Don’t go putting it up on Twitter or anything.”

“Scout’s honor!” Skye says, nodding.

“You weren’t a Scout,” replies Melinda, but she and Sif obligingly position themselves when Skye holds up her phone to snap a picture. Once that’s done, she snorts and says, “Don’t neglect your girl, now.”

“Oh, I’m going back to her,” says Skye with a wink. “Thanks! Have fun!”

“You too,” calls Sif, amused.

Skye skips back to Jemma with a triumphant smile. “See! I totally did it!”

“You did,” Jemma agrees, and she leans to give Skye a kiss. “I’m proud of you.”

Humming happily, Skye runs her hand through Jemma’s hair. “Wanna go back out there, or sit down for a bit?”

“We could go back,” Jemma suggests, smiling almost shyly. “I bet Bobbi and Audrey are providing quality entertainment.”

“Oh yeah!” Skye’s face lights up and she tugs Jemma back onto the dance floor.

Jemma squeaks happily. “I don’t mind this, here,” she says. “This isn’t scary like a real club.”

“Good,” says Skye, putting her arms around Jemma again. “I’m glad you’re cool with it. Thanks for indulging me.”

“Thanks for indulging _me,_ ” Jemma laughs. “You’re very good at putting up with my social… foibles.”

“Aw, ‘course.” Skye kisses her cheek. “I love you, foibles and all.”

“I love you too,” Jemma murmurs, smiling. “This music less so, but I suppose it serves its purpose.”

Skye giggles. “Yeah, but y’know.” She glances around. “Do you see them anywhere?”

Jemma glances around. “No,” she says, sounding a little surprised. “We’d be able to see Bobbi in the crowd no matter what, I think.”

“That’s true. Shit, I guess they got away from us,” says Skye, giggling again. “I feel like sitting down again all of a sudden.”

“All right,” Jemma agrees. “Sitting sounds better if there’s nothing fun out here.”

“Hey! Isn’t dancing with me fun?” teases Skye.

“Well, it is, but you know what I mean,” Jemma says. “We’ll be together no matter what we’re doing.”

“Of course,” Skye says, kissing her. “Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

“So, what, you get tired of your other two?” teases Mack. Audrey’s in the bathroom, and Bruce went to get another drink, so he and Bobbi are alone at their table for the moment.

“No,” Bobbi says, rolling her eyes. “They’re lovely. Audrey is lovely too. The two things don’t cancel each other out.”

Mack chuckles. “Hey, whatever works for you. It’s nice seeing you happy.”

“As opposed to?” Bobbi challenges.

“Well, y’know. Last time we were in a bar together,” says Mack, smirking. “I’m glad you’ve figured stuff out since then.”

“We’ve totally been in bars together between now and then,” Bobbi exclaims, because that’s easier than getting emotional.

“Whatever. You know what I mean. The thing with Hunter.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’m pretty glad too, honestly.”

“Sorry. Didn’t want to bring up a sore spot. I’m just, y’know. I like it when my friends are happy.”

“It’s not sore,” Bobbi says. “I’m just crap at talking about that stuff. You know that.”

“I do. Lucky for you I’m not great at it either-”

He’s interrupted when Bruce sits back down. “Sorry, hope I’m not interrupting something,” he says, smiling a little nervously.

“You’re fine, we were just shooting the shit,” Mack says. “Hey, have you told Bobbi about that new project you’re working on?”

“Ah, I don’t think so.” Bruce turns to her. “It’s studying the effect of gamma radiation on certain types of plants, have I mentioned it?”

“Ooh,” Bobbi says. “I don’t think you have but you definitely should have.”

“Oh! So it involves testing certain fruit-bearing species, to see what effects it will have on their abilities to grow…”

By the time Audrey gets back, with their drinks refreshed no less, Bobbi is tuned into Bruce with almost unparalleled concentration, and it’s so kind of unexpected and pure that she lets out a little murmured, “Aw.”

Immediately Bobbi snaps to attention, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” she says, “that particular side of me doesn’t get that much airplay.”

“No, I think it’s cute,” Audrey insists, sliding into her seat. “You’re a dork like the rest of us.”

“You don’t know that half of it,” grins Mack. “She doesn’t advertise it, but she’s a huge dork.”

“I’m looking forward to finding out,” Audrey murmurs, and Bobbi actually blushes a little.

Which Mack notices, and he says, “Hey Bruce, you up for a bit of dancing? I wanna see if Ruben’s still here.”

“Oh, sure,” says Bruce with a nod, and they get up and leave.

“For what it’s worth,” Audrey says softly, “I’m pretty glad you wound up being my first date in a while. Or with a girl.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi smirks. “Glad it’s been working out for you.”

“Yeah,” Audrey nods. She leans in a little but stops herself. “Uh…”

“Go ahead,” Bobbi murmurs, smiling in what she hopes is an encouraging way. “Or do you want me to start?”

Audrey shakes her head, and tentatively she closes the distance, pressing her lips to Bobbi’s. After a moment she pulls back and asks, “Was that okay?”

“More than,” Bobbi replies, and she moves back in for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

Mack taps his brother on the shoulder. “Hey, long time no see.”

Ruben turns around, then grins. “Oh, hey, Alfie! Didn’t know you were here tonight.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Mack rolls his eyes. “My friend Skye came over to tell me all about how she learned a new nickname for me.”

Ruben snickers. “Whoops.”

“Thomas here with you?”

“Yeah, y’know. He doesn’t like dancing much,” shrugs Ruben. “Hey, this is Bruce, right? Nice to meet you finally. Alfie talks about you when he comes over for dinner but he hasn’t brought you yet.”

Bruce flushes and smiles. “I’m pretty busy,” he says, almost apologetically. “Grad school and all.”

“Woah, nice! For what?”

“Molecular biology. It’s kind of, um, complicated, and it bores some people, but I like it.”

“That’s awesome. So you guys just come over to say hey or you wanna dance?”

“We can dance a little,” says Mack, glancing at Bruce to make sure it’s still okay. Bruce nods.

“Great! I mean, I’m gonna kick your ass,” teases Ruben, “as usual.”

Mack grins. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.”


	110. you gotta let go to let it circle back around, to rise up you gotta learn to root down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye helps to organize a back-to-school drive for foster kids and impoverished students, and some of her friends help.

“Thanks for helping me out with this, guys,” Skye says, taking a sip from her drink. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” says Joey, smiling. “I mean, the arcade’s usually got a box out for some kind of drive or another, so the owner was really chill about letting me put in yours.”

Elena, who’s chewing, nods. After a moment she adds, “Yes, Ross too. We didn’t get a huge amount, but it wasn’t bad for two weeks. Plus I asked some friends for help, some of them have kids who’ve outgrown clothes.”

“Yeah. I just, I remember not having a lot when I was in foster care so I wanted to help some of the kids around here.” Skye shrugs and shoves the rest of her pizza in her mouth, mostly so she won’t have to say any more about that.

“It’s good of you,” Elena says with a gentle smile. “Thanks for asking me to help with it.”

“Oh, sure,” says Skye, swallowing the last of the pizza. “I mean, I know you just started at the mall but I figured it was a good way to like...include you in shit, and you’d know people we wouldn’t know, maybe.”

“Drax had a box in Knowhere too,” adds Joey. “And he said they got some kind of anonymous donation for school supplies too. Well, what he actually said was that he was supposed to call it anonymous but it was Gamora.” He smirks. “I guess it hit a nerve with her too.”

“Oh, wow, that’s great!”

“He also said they had to make sure Nebula didn’t try to ‘donate’ anything. Apparently she knows where to get a ton of kid-size shirts with swear words on them.”

Elena snorts. “That makes sense. Could be funny, but not a good idea.”

Snickering, Skye gets up to throw away her trash. “You guys about done? We should probably go and get stuff sorted out and set up.”

“Yeah.” Joey jumps up to follow her to the trash can, Elena right behind him.

They head out to the mall entrance, where Drax is guarding the boxes meant for clothing and school supplies as well as the partially full boxes they’ve brought. “There’s been no trouble!” he reports cheerfully. “I’ve been telling people who look confused what we are doing, so they might be inclined to help.”

“Thanks,” says Joey, leaning up slightly for a kiss. “You have to head back now, right?”

“Unfortuantely, yes,” says Drax, grabbing Joey’s hand to squeeze it. “I wish you a successful drive! Though I still think that is a confusing term, as it makes it sound as if you’re going somewhere when you aren’t.”

Elena smirks. “English is a confusing language.”

Joey laughs and waves as Drax turns to go. “Dinner tonight?”

“Yes! I will come to retrieve you as soon as we have closed.” Drax returns his wave and leaves.

Skye bumps Joey’s shoulder. “Drax and Joey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Joey rolls his eyes and bumps her back. “What are you, six?”

“Yup,” she replies cheerfully, going to set up the boxes. “Twenty three going on seven.”

Elena laughs. “I’ve seen you be more silly with your partners.”

“Oh, I’m not saying I’m not. I just like giving him shit.” Skye flashes her a shit-eating grin. “Okay, so I guess just make sure everything is in good condition if you haven’t already and put it in the right box?”

 

* * *

 

Since they’ve only just set up and it’s the first day, they don’t get too many people at first. Most mall customers just glance at the sign they have explaining the drive, and a few stop to ask questions and say things about coming back later. Mostly the people who come with donations are the ones Skye told about this beforehand, like Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, who show up about an hour after they’ve finished setting up.

“I hope you don’t mind the truly incredible collection of American flag merchandise,” Steve says with a smirk, starting to unload his bag.

Skye snorts. “I mean, there’s probably some patriotic football player out there who’ll love it. Or at least someone who’ll tolerate some of it.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to keep it forever,” adds Bucky, looking mock-offended.

“You give me more of it every year,” Steve points out. “And do I ever actually use any of it?”

“We used the underwear,” Natasha deadpans.

Joey and Elena snicker, and Steve declares, “We did. You’ll notice that’s not in the giveaway pile.”

“God, I hope not,” mutters Bucky, grinning. Then he adds, to everyone else, “Anyway, promise we brought actual stuff too. They have some stuff they got from work, and I had my sisters go through their kids’ closets.”

“Thank you,” Skye says. “Really, it helps.”

Natasha nods. “I know,” she says, smiling in a way that means she’s not going to expand on that thought. “I got some of the other dancers to pitch in too, some of them have kids.”

“I didn’t know you danced,” says Elena. “What kind?”

“Ballet,” Natasha says, overly casual. “I’m with the Midwest Ballet Company. The winter season starts pretty soon and matinee tickets aren’t too bad, if you’re interested.” Her tone is just slightly self-deprecating.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “She does this when people bring it up, but she’s fucking amazing and you should totally come.”

Elena laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Have you had much traffic yet?” Steve asks.

“Not really, but it’s the first official day and we haven’t even really advertised yet, so.” Skye shrugs. “It’ll be fine, I think.”

“Yeah, word’ll get around,” says Bucky. “We’ve gotta get to our shifts, but good luck.”

“Thanks!”

 

* * *

 

The next familiar face they see is Thor, who pulls up in his pickup with the entire back full of boxes. “Hello!” he calls, hopping out. “I bring you things from my family.”

“That’s great,” says Skye, grinning and coming over to take the first of the boxes he starts unloading. “Damn, this is a lot.”

“Yes, Mother enjoys charity.” Thor smiles fondly. “We even got Loki to part with some of his clothes from his high school days, although I’m not sure how appealing they’ll be to the average teenager.”

“Loki’s the Hot Topic guy, right?” Joey mutters to Skye, who nods. Then he snorts. “Yeah, I could see that.”

“Jane also sent some supplies from her store. Mostly notebooks and the like, some pencils and pens. She seemed very excited about the prospect of potentially aiding like-minded children.”

“It’s very nice of her,” Elena says.

Thor nods. “My love is passionate about her field, and she always enjoys being able to contribute in relevant ways.”

“Well, tell her thanks a bunch,” says Skye. “That stuff’s really important.”

“I’m glad!” says Thor, beaming. “I’ll help you finish unloading, and then I have a lunch date with Jane.”

“Jane’s a lucky woman,” teases Elena. “You seem like the perfect boyfriend.”

Thor shrugs goodnaturedly. “I feel it is she that is perfect, but many have said similar things.”

“Christ,” snickers Skye. “Hurry up and leave before we all start feeling inadequate.”

“I assure you that was not my intention,” Thor says with a wink.

 

* * *

 

“So I’ve already hung some at my school, and talked to some of my classmates,” Jemma says with a smile, needlessly straightening the sheaf of papers before shoving it in her backpack. “And Mum promised she’d advertise around the office.”

“You’re very industrious,” Bobbi says. “I feel like I should give you a pat on the head and call you a good girl.”

Predictably, this makes Jemma blush, though she does manage to say “Patting me might be a bit patronizing. Objectively.”

“Noted,” Bobbi laughs. “But you are a very good girl.” She kisses Jemma’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Jemma grins. “What about you?”

“Well, I gave a couple to Isabelle to put up at her gym and in her building, and I got one up at Applebee’s,” Bobbi says, and off Jemma’s horrified look she adds, “Via Trish! She took one to give Luke for his bar, too.”

“Good,” Jemma mumbles. “Not that I’m getting all… jealous girlfriend-type person. I just know, ah, well, Hunter is a jerk. That’s all.”

“He’s many more things than just a jerk,” Bobbi sighs. “I’m glad you figured that out on your own. A lot of people get tricked by his droll misanthropy.”

“Male misanthropy has never appealed to me,” Jemma laughs. “Or, well, I’ve got Fitz and that’s enough. And he and I have essentially the same sorts of misanthropy, so.”

“You’re cute,” Bobbi says. “Let’s go.”

They have the task of distributing flyers for Skye’s drive, but considering they already work in one of the best places to do that, what this amounts to is taking a walk downtown and searching for other reasonable spots.

“We could go to the strip mall where Rogue works,” Jemma suggests as they set out. “Or do you think Joey already gave Drax some to give her?” She frowns.

“We can head over and check,” Bobbi reassures.

They pas another little block of stores, similar to the Knowhere building, and Bobbi scoffs at the ever-present FOR SALE sign. “Is this place ever gonna fill up? It feels like it’s been empty for years.”

Jemma shrugs. “It’d be better suited to something niche, probably, and those come and go,” she says. “Do you think we should hang a flyer nearby, though? Just in case anyone is looking?”

“Can’t hurt,” Bobbi shrugs cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

“Would you rather have a head the size of a watermelon or a head the size of a tennis ball?”

Joey and Elena think for a minute. “Aren’t heads close to watermelons anyway?” Elena points out. “I’d rather that.”

“But if you had a tennis ball head, you’d always look like a turtle and it would be adorable!” says Joey. “I pick that one.”

Skye snorts. “Flawless logic. Joey, your turn.”

Joey ponders before saying “Would you rather face the walkers from _Walking Dead_ or the T-rex from _Jurassic Park_?”

“Ooh, good one.” Skye thinks but before she has a chance to answer, Thomas comes in dragging the largest suitcase possible.

“Hey,” he says. “I have too much stuff to hand over.”

“Wow,” says Joey. “Haven’t cleaned out your attic in a while?”

“Not exactly,” Thomas sighs. “I have some stuff that… well, for some reason big brother thought it would be a good idea to will me literally all of his possessions. I’m never going to do anything with them, so here some of them are.”

“Oh,” says Skye, glancing at the suitcase with barely concealed disdain. “Um, would you guys mind sorting through that? I knew his brother and I, uh, don’t really wanna get anywhere near his stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Joey says. “So you know him too?” He nods at Thomas.

“Yeah, sorry, this is Thomas. He’s...y’know that shitty guy I told you about that fucked with my friend Kara? Thomas was his younger brother. Emphasis on the _was_ , thank god. Anyway, Thomas is cool, I met him at the queer bar.”

“I don’t even know why he decided I was going to be the lucky one to deal with his leftover trash,” Thomas says, making a face. “It’s not like we’d spoken since… well, we hadn’t spoken in a while.” It’s clear he doesn’t want to tell the whole story again. “But I figured I might as well get it off my hands and to a good cause.”

“Well, I’m sorry he was so awful,” Elena says, making a face. “Someone will need it.”

“I hope whoever needs it is someone that would have bugged the shit out of him,” Thomas says, laughing without much humor.

Joey smirks. “We can sure hope. You doing okay? I mean...you’re obviously not sad, but…”

“I’m a little sad, but mostly because my family always makes me sad and thinking about them constantly isn’t exactly a picnic,” Thomas shrugs. “And the what could have been. It’s kind of just a weird feeling, though. Like I wouldn’t have exactly wished him dead, but it’s not…”

Skye nods sympathetically. “Hey, do you want my number? I’d be happy to talk with you if you needed it or to hang out or whatever.”

“That’d be cool,” Thomas says, smiling gratefully. “It’s just a really weird situation, but it’s sort of hard to get the psychology of it without context.”

“Totally.” Skye rattles off her number so he can put it in his phone, then he texts her so she can save his. “Anyway, thanks for this, and...yeah. Take care of yourself, dude.”

Jemma and Bobbi stroll up, both laughing, and Jemma’s first instinct, of course, is to run to her girlfriend with a smile. “We got them all hung up,” she announces.

“Nice!” Skye says, kissing her (to which Joey snickers and Elena wolf-whistles). “Thank you.”

“And we ran into that Kitty girl from the Jarvises’ Hanukkah party,” Jemma adds. “She offered to take one to hang at the synagogue.”

“Oh, cool! Good work.” Skye runs her hand down Jemma’s arm fondly.

Jemma grins, then waves to Joey and Elena, then notices Thomas and exclaims, “Hello!” To Bobbi she adds, “This is Thomas. We mentioned him? He’s very acceptable.”

Bobbi snickers. “Pleased to meet you, very acceptable Thomas. I’m Bobbi.”

“Pleasure,” Thomas agrees. “I’m just dropping off some stuff, I won’t keep you. You can keep the suitcase.” He smiles, waves, and ducks out.

“Alright, well,” says Skye. “I guess we should get started on that.” Her lip curls slightly. “I mean, I know it’s just clothes, but also, ew.”

“Don’t worry,” Joey says, “Elena and I can actually sort it. We’ll just ask you about stuff if we have questions.”

Elena nods. “We’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

One of their last drop-offs of the day is Trish, who shows up with a couple of shopping bags full of mostly sweatshirts. “I bring the first wave of gifts from Applebee’s,” she announces, laughing. “The weekday waitstaff’s collection of unused outerwear.”

“Awesome!” grins Skye. “You can just put it down over here.”

“How’s it going so far?” Trish asks.

“Pretty well. We’re getting a ton more clothes than school supplies, but hey, everything helps.” Skye smirks and says, “Don’t spread it around, but a certain dead dickbag’s brother brought some of his stuff too.”

“Nice,” Trish chuckles. “May they live a happier second life than first.”

“Yes,” agrees Elena. “Did you know him too? If it’s not rude to ask. It seems like he caused trouble for a lot of people.”

“I mostly only knew of him,” Trish says with a shrug. “But he did the worst shit, so.”

Joey laughs, a little awkwardly. “From what I hear, it’s good you didn’t.”

“Yeah, his gang buddies showed up at Applebee’s once and started hitting on me,” Trish continues. “It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever heard, but it sure wasn’t great. My girlfriend happened to be watching, though, and she and our boyfriend beat the shit out of them in the parking lot afterward.”

“Goodness,” says Elena, looking startled. “I hope they were both alright afterward?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty good at beating the shit out of people when it’s necessary,” Trish smirks.

“They were on the team to go get Kara’s dog back, right?” Skye asks. “Jessica and Luke don’t fuck around,” she adds to Joey and Elena.

“They were,” Trish says proudly. “Jessica especially kicked ass.”

Joey grins. “They sound fun. Hopefully we’ll run into each other sometime.”

“Hang out anywhere there’s liquor,” Trish says, rolling her eyes fondly, “you’ll see them eventually. Good luck with the rest of this, you guys.” With a wave she heads off.

“Thanks!” calls Skye. “Alright, more sorting!” She makes an exaggerated excited face and does jazz hands.

 

* * *

 

They call it quits around six thirty, since they’re all hungry and the clothing bin is almost full already. “I’ll come back first thing tomorrow and take some of it so they don’t overflow,” Skye says. “What do you guys want for dinner? I’m buying, it’s the least I can do.”

“Is it okay for me to say Chinese?” Joey says playfully.

“That sounds good,” agrees Elena, smirking.

Skye laughs. “I mean, Chinese is delicious so I don’t mind. Also Jiaying taught me how to find the really good Chinese restaurants, so I know of an amazing place right near my apartment. Let’s head back there and we can order in and watch a movie or something. Have you guys ever seen _Tremors_?”


	111. I can see it now it's all the same thing, just different wrapping around it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope S. and Jemma both have birthdays, and celebrate them accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's canon birthday is September 11, same as Elizabeth Henstridge. Hope doesn't have a canon birthday, but we're saying it's the 10th.

“So we’re going to start her off slow, right?” Trish says fretfully.

Luke nods. “I mean, I know what Jones is gonna say about it,” he snarks, rolling his eyes at Jessica, “but just make her a margarita or something.”

“Hey,” protests Jessica, “I brought this for me. Mostly.” She pulls the bottle of Jack Daniels out of Trish’s purse and sets it on the counter. “We’ll work our way up to it.”

“Not in one night!” Trish exclaims.

“I mean, I’m not gonna say no to the birthday girl,” says Jessica, smirking.

“I really hope the birthday girl doesn’t ask,” Trish mumbles.

“She’ll be fine,” Luke says.

“How’s it coming in here?” Hope asks with a big smile, poking her head in. She’s wearing a gaudy plastic tiara (Darcy insisted).

Jessica snorts. “Trish is arguing for no Jack Daniels your first time out, which makes sense, I guess. What kind of fruit do you like? We’re going with a margarita.”

Hope shrugs. “I’m not that picky? I guess strawberry sounds good.”

“Good.” Luke opens the container of strawberries and begins putting some in the blender. “How’s everything out there?”

“Well, Melinda and Sif actually showed up, so that’s fun,” Hope says eagerly. “Wanda is doing her best to mediate her brother, like usual, while Darcy tries to plan party games.” She giggles. “Malcolm kind of just seems taken aback.”

Jessica snorts. “Poor guy. It’s a weird mix of people. Hey, how much do you want in your first drink ever?”

“Whatever is the appropriate amount?” Hope suggests.

“I’ll pour,” Trish sighs. “Somehow I think we have different definitions of ‘appropriate.’”

Rolling her eyes, Jessica hands the bottle to Trish. “Whatever.”

“Not everyone has the same tolerance,” Trish explains as she mixes. “So it’s better to start out easy. We can always add more later.”

“Okay!” Hope grins. “Thank you guys.”

“‘Course. It’ll be nice to have you in the bar and not drinking straight Coke,” says Luke, grinning.

“Agreed,” Hope laughs. “I’ll definitely feel less square.”

“Aw,” coos Jessica with a smirk. “Luke and I can take you to the good bars, other than his. You definitely won’t be a square by the time we’re done with you.” She winks, so Hope can see she’s mostly kidding.

“Well,” Hope says, for her part just a bit taken aback (it’s that fraction of the mostly that’s not kidding). “Should we…?” She nods toward the door to the other room.

“Sounds good,” Trish says in a hurry, nudging Jessica and Luke out.

Hope beelines for the couch, where Wanda is sitting, seeming amused. “Cardboard Box made a friend,” Wanda says, gesturing at the chair where Melinda is sitting with a giggle.

The cat is winding himself around Melinda’s legs, purring up a storm. Melinda is making a face like she’d honestly rather Cardboard Box were a swarm of angry bees. Sif looks as if she’s torn between being sympathetic and laughing.

“Cute,” Hope coos, sipping her drink.

“I’m not a cat person,” says Melinda, rolling her eyes. “But I guess they like me.”

“Do you want me to put him in the other room?” Wanda asks, trying to hide her smile. “He’s a little too friendly sometimes.”

“Here, I’ll take him,” says Malcom, standing up to pick up Cardboard Box, who settles onto his lap and keeps purring.

Melinda smirks. “Thanks.”

“Why the fuck is your cat called Cardboard Box, anyway?” asks Jessica.

Wanda giggles again and shrugs. “It’s where he was born.”

This explanation seems to confuse everyone enough that they’re all silent for a few seconds until Sif asks, “How’s your drink, Hope?”

“It’s really good,” Hope says. “Everyone else is settled with theirs?”

“For a house party, this is practically gourmet,” Darcy announces, sitting on Hope’s other side and nudging her. “But it wouldn’t be a good house party if we didn’t play stupid games. Are you guys _sure_ you don’t have a ping-pong table? Or something that could be one?”

Pietro, who is fidgeting in his chair with a hackysack, shrugs. “Probably not? Neither of us care about ping-pong.”

“Well, I doubt anyone wants to play any drinking games that could involve nudity,” Darcy muses. “What about board games, do you have any of those?”

“Hey, we could tell our best drunk stories,” chimes in Jessica, eyes glinting. “I’ve got one. So Trish was in college, and had a big test or some shit, and she passed it, so we got _drunk_. Just completely shitfaced, and I said ‘hey, let’s skinny dip in the lake,’ and she came with. Remember that?” she asks, nudging Trish.

“I wish I didn’t,” Trish mutters, but she’s grinning despite herself.

“Oh my god,” Darcy exclaims. “That’s brilliant. I mean, as long as it wasn’t a nasty lake.”

Jessica shrugs. “I mean, not any more than any lake is when you’re putting your naked junk all up in it.”

“It was freezing cold,” Trish corrects, “and it was a really terrible idea.”

“So what you’re saying is, you wouldn’t be up for a repeat?” teases Luke.

“No I wouldn’t,” Trish replies primly. “Although drunk me cannot be held accountable to the promises made by sober me in this regard.”

Malcolm snickers. “One time right before we all graduated high school, a bunch of my youth group friends and I got our hands on some beer, drank until we were plastered, and snuck out to the park at like midnight. It was closed, so we were breaking the rules,” he adds, with mock solemnity. “And then we all laid there in a pile talking about life for an hour. Guys weren’t supposed to be alone with _girls_ , that might lead to sex. Totally didn’t, we were all chill.”

“Okay, but what conclusions did you reach about life?” Darcy asks, smirking.

“A lot of them decided life was gonna be better once we were all out of our tiny town and doing what we wanted,” says Malcolm with a shrug. “I’d already kinda decided I wanted to help people, so it wasn’t so much a dramatic conclusion for me as just continuing as normal.”

“That’s adorably innocent,” says Luke with a smirk.

“Yeah, no offense but you were a pretty lame kid,” adds Jessica. “Bet you’re glad you met us losers.”

Malcolm rolls his eyes and grins. “Y’know, insulting people when you’re trying to get them to compliment you isn’t exactly a foolproof strategy.”

“That’s kind of just her way,” Trish replies, smirking.

“Oh, I know,” says Malcolm fondly.

“If only we had the supplies for Norse beer pong,” Sif says idly. “That’s always entertaining.”

“What?” Hope exclaims, trying not to spill her drink. “How is Norse beer pong different than other beer pong, anyway?”

“There are a lot of complicated rules,” Sif replies with a shit-eating grin on her face. “For example, after every round teams must switch sides of the table. After a team has less than half of their cups, they must balance an empty bottle on their heads during each member’s throw, and take a shot if the bottle falls. After your team is down to three cups or less, you must throw over your shoulder. And so forth!”

“Geez,” Hope says. “That sounds really complicated. And kind of a disaster.”

Melinda snorts. “It really is. No one leaves the game without drinking an obscene amount.”

“Okay, but you’re fucking with us, right?” Darcy half-asks.

Sif shakes her head. “Some of the rules are more...optional than others, but I assure you this is a real game that we have played for years.”

“Real as in you’ve done it or real as in it’s an actual established thing?” Darcy presses. “Because I’ve watched this shit. It looks totally made up when you’re playing.”

“Our families have passed down the rules for several generations,” insists Sif. “As I said, the rules have changed at times, but the game itself retains its spirit.”

“The spirit of making shit up to get as drunk as possible, I’m guessing,” snarks Jessica. Sif laughs and nods.

“Honestly, it’s a good thing we don’t have the supplies,” Darcy says to Hope. “Everyone would be trashed in half an hour.”

“Maybe let’s not,” Hope squeaks. “I mean. I wouldn’t wanna mess up their house.” This with an adoring gaze at Wanda.

Wanda giggles. “Honestly, Pietro and I messed up quite a lot of this house as children. It’s probably nothing that hasn’t already happened. But thank you.” She squeezes Hope’s hand.

“Oh yes!” chimes in Pietro. “Father had to do repairs on the ceiling fan three times!”

“I can’t imagine you spilled entire bottles of beer as children,” Trish interjects, smirking.

“No, but we spilled every other kind of liquid, I’m sure,” Wanda says. “We weren’t particularly neat children.”

“Speaking of youthful indiscretions and alcohol,” Melinda says, “I got an ill-advised piercing my freshman year of college. I’d gone out with a boyfriend and drunk so much I could barely remember my own name.”

“Where!” Darcy exclaims, too excited to make it a question. “Tell us _everything_.”

“Navel,” says Melinda. “Andrew talked me out of my initial thought, which was apparently a tongue piercing. Then I went back to my dorm and slept for thirteen hours and woke up with the worst hangover I’ve ever had in my life.”

Hope’s eyes are probably the widest they’ve ever been. “That’s… I can’t even imagine.”

“I had an interesting time in college,” Melinda replies with a shrug. “Incidentally, if any of that gets spread around anywhere, I’ll know where to start asking questions.” She gives Darcy a look.

“Dude, I promise, secret’s safe,” Darcy exclaims.

Melinda nods. “Good.”

Sif leans over and whispers in her ear, “You just like intimidating them,” to which Melinda’s only response is a chuckle.

 

* * *

 

Skye pulls Jemma’s chair out for her gallantly. “Here you go, birthday girl,” she says, grinning.

“Gosh,” Jemma mumbles, one hand going to her face in pleased embarrassment. “How fancy of you.”

“I try,” teases Skye, putting her hand on Jemma’s shoulder affectionately.

“No you don’t,” snarks Fitz quietly. Skye hears him, but ignores him, and Trip just rolls his eyes.

“Was the whole point of this being dress-up to get me in a suit again?” Bobbi asks, smirking. “Because you could have just asked.”

Jemma blushes and Skye says, “Well, she wanted stuff to be classy, so...I thought that’d be classy.”

“It’s classy,” Jemma promises, grinning.

Skye looks pleased with herself. “You haven’t even seen the cake yet,” she says, nodding to the box on the other end of the table.

“Goodness,” Jemma grins.

“It’s really cool,” Trip adds. “She showed us pictures when she went to pick it up.”

Fitz nods eagerly. “You’ll like it.”

“I could guess that,” Jemma teases.

“Also, uh, sorry I couldn’t afford anything classier than Olive Garden,” says Skye, a bit self-deprecating.

“Oh, shush,” Jemma exclaims. “This is plenty classy and I don’t care. We’re here and that’s the important part.”

Skye leans over to kiss her cheek. “Well, good. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jemma beams. “And I love the rest of you, in various different ways.”

“Shucks,” Bobbi says, rolling her eyes playfully.

After they’ve ordered food and are all at least partway into their drinks (all except Trip, who is driving), Skye grins slyly and says, “So, Fitz...tell us a story about Jemma.”

“Oh no,” Jemma mumbles, staring into her drink with wide eyes. This isn’t going to end well.

Fitz snickers. “Well, she was pretty much in love with Christy Carlson Romano from _Even Stevens_ , and one time she had to do a project on the moon landing and I said she ought to do the song from the musical episode about it.”

“I was, I admit,” Jemma says, “but the entire point of that song is that it actually isn’t a good project and if nothing else, I could learn from Ren Stevens’ mistake.” She takes a dramatic sip of her drink.

“I think I missed that one,” Bobbi says, and it’s somewhat believable since she’s the oldest one here.

Jemma bursts into giggles and raises an eyebrow at Fitz.

Fitz is just tipsy enough that he says, “You still remember the words, don’t you?”

“We…” Jemma drags the first word out, looking like she can’t believe she’s doing this but also like she can’t not do this. “Went to the moon! In 1969! Not 1968 but a year laaater.”

“We went to the moon in 1969,” sings Fitz, very much off-key, “that’s when the astronauts first walked inside a craaaaaater!”

“Holy shit, you’re adorable,” Skye says fondly.

“Oh, it was a twenty-minute spectacular,” Jemma promises. “Also a song about how dreadful sixth period was going to be. I admit I thought of it just about any time anyone said those words together for many years.”

Trip laughs. “I kind of remember that. Not bad, you two.” He squeezes Fitz’s hand, and Fitz flushes.

“I see,” Bobbi says, nodding with some amusement. “Was this like a _High School Musical_ thing?”

“No, that aired three years after _Even Stevens_ ended,” Fitz says, in his slightly obnoxious know-it-all voice. “This was just one episode of the show, and it turned out to be a dream sequence. _High School Musical_ is in the more traditional format where musical numbers are integrated into the story for plot or characterization reasons, rather than throwaway jokes.”

Jemma nods. “Although that was lovely, too. They’re both lovely in different ways.”

Skye nudges Jemma fondly. “I bet _someone_ liked the math girl, right?”

“Maybe,” Jemma mumbles. “She was… yes.”

“So don’t we get a song from that too?” Bobbi prompts, smirking.

“You can bet there’s nothing but net when I am in the zone and on the road,” chirps Fitz, who has apparently had enough to drink that he’s very suggestible. “But I’ve got a confession, my own secret obsession, and it’s making me lose control!”

“Everybody gather roooooouuuund,” Jemma chimes in.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Trip says. “You guys know every word, huh?”

Fitz shrugs. “We weren’t cool kids.”

“We got by,” Jemma defends. “The cool kids weren’t very interesting, really.”

“True,” agrees Fitz. “It certainly seemed like we were having more fun.”

“And getting in much less trouble,” Jemma adds.

Skye grins. “Adorable. Fucking adorable.”

“Also there was the time she decided to go out with some boy from chemistry class, just to see,” Fitz says with a silly grin on his face, “and he turned out to be a bore and a half.”

“Well, you were the one who _followed me_ , so you’d know,” Jemma retorts.

He shrugs. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“And you were worried about being replaced, silly,” Jemma says. “He’s always been like that. Very attached. People are idiots about it, ‘course.”

Fitz rolls his eyes. “I’m not _that_ bad. I am glad people stopped assuming we’re together, though. That was always so irritating.”

“Me too,” says Skye, running a hand down Jemma’s back. “It’s so weird to think about you guys dating.”

“It really, really is,” Jemma says.

“And I imagine Fitz wouldn’t be much inclined toward… things,” Bobbi adds, smirking.

“Yes! Like, ah,” Jemma stammers, “well, he’s not interested in girls, and I… am. Which is nice, because it means, um, it means I can be interested in girls with my girls and it’s pleasant, but otherwise…” She trails off, looking embarrassed.

Skye smiles and grabs her hand. “You’re fine, honey. You’re cute.”

“You’re not making any sense at all, Jem,” Fitz says, but his tone is gentle.

“Don’t you have any stories where neither of us seems like a dork?” Jemma asks, hurriedly changing the subject.

Fitz snickers. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but that’s pretty much how we are.”

“That goes for all of us,” Trip says cheerfully. “Except maybe Bobbi.”

“Oh, I’m just better at pretending I’m not a dork,” Bobbi assures him. “I am, in fact, a huge dork.”

“Damn right,” Skye agrees. Then she adds, a little quieter, “Who else would have a lightsaber dildo for Christ’s sake?”

 

* * *

 

“...I’ll give it all I got, that is my plan! Will I find what I lost, you know you can bet on it, bet on it, bet on it!”

Skye stifles her snickers as she holds up her phone. Obviously, she’s recording the pair of them singing as loudly and dramatically as possible in the backseat.

“This is like a window to a whole other world,” Bobbi comments.

“Y’all are drunk,” Trip says fondly from the driver’s seat.

“Did you ever doubt your dream will ever come true?”

“Did you ever blame the world but never blame you?”

“I will never try to live a lie again!”

“I don’t wanna win this game if I can’t play it my way!”

This goes on all the way home, and then Jemma opens her door dramatically, nearly stumbles out of the car, and giggles. “Careful, honey,” says Skye fondly, helping to hold her up.

“It’s funny how you don’t think about things for ages and then - poof,” Jemma declares.

“Yes,” agrees Fitz, slurring more than a little. “I didn’ realize I still knew all the words.”

“It was adorable,” Trip says, grabbing his hand and letting Fitz flop against him. “If a little ear-piercing.”

“Should we be offended?” Jemma asks with mock-seriousness.

Fitz shrugs lazily. “I know I’ve got a rubbish voice. Sorry,” he says, giving Trip doe eyes.

Trip grins. “No worries. I’m glad you and Jemma are enjoying the night.”

“I promise not to do anything with the video,” Skye says. “I just wanted to have a record of how cute you are.”

“It certainly is cute,” Bobbi agrees brightly, which prompts Jemma to snuggle her face into Skye’s shoulder, blushing.

“Besides,” Jemma adds, grinning, “it’s not the silliest thing that I’ve ever done that made it online.”

“Oh really?” Trip raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Fitz looks a bit alarmed. “Yes, what’re _you_ thinking of?”

“You know,” Jemma giggles. “Now I shall kill thou and I shall kill Vampire as well.”

Fitz bursts into hysterical giggles. “I haven’t thought about that in _forever._ D’you think it’s still up, even? You didn’t go back and delete them?”

“And spare the internet that beauty?” Jemma exclaims. “It’s a gift to the _world_.”

“Am I going to regret asking what’s going on?” Bobbi asks, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not even sure,” admits Skye. “I mean, I get that reference, but I dunno what they mean by it. What _are_ you two talking about?”

“Do you want to say or should I?” Jemma laughs, fishing her keys out of her purse.

“It was your idea in the first place,” giggles Fitz, “you explain.”

“ _Well_ ,” Jemma says, “back in those same make-your-own-fun high school days, we discovered the terrible glory that is My Immortal, which,” she pauses to address Bobbi specifically, “it’s the world’s worst fanfiction. At the time it was hard to find a complete dramatic reading of it online, so I decided - since we had the proper accents anyway - we should make one.”

“It’s awful,” chortles Fitz, “just dreadful. We should make you listen to a bit so you’ll see.”

Skye’s also giggling. “Holy shit, yeah, I wanna see this.”

“Hear,” Jemma corrects. “We make sure to read all of the dramatic, improper punctuation and spelling errors, too.”

Fitz nods. “It’s riddled with them. Snape becomes Snap, the lead’s name is supposed to be Ebony but it turns into Enoby and such. It’s brilliantly awful.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Trip says, nodding too. “Show us.”

“Okay!” Jemma yelps, practically bounding inside and toward the apartment.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re all giggling hysterically as, on the YouTube video, teenage Jemma very calmly but dramatically reads, “Dracola used to be called Navel but it tuned out dat he was kidnapped at birth and his real family were vampires. They dyed in a car crash.”

“And if you’ll recall,” says teenage Fitz, “Hermione was also kidnapped at birth from vampire parents, so there’s clearly some kind of problem going on that nobody talks about in this universe.”

“This is so much worse than I remember,” gasps Skye. “ _So much worse._ ”

“This is a joke, right?” Bobbi asks, dumbfounded. “This has to be a joke.”

“There’s actually a huge debate about that,” Jemma says, pausing the recording. “It’s probably the most famously notorious piece of fanfiction on the internet, unless you count the mess that became _50 Shades of Gross_.”

“Yes, there are some who swear on it as a parody,” adds Fitz. “I think it is, personally. No chance of someone being _that_ incompetent. Don’t make it any less funny though.”

“Dumblydore,” Jemma interrupts, giggling hysterically.

“Bloody Rose Gothic 666,” says Skye.

Fitz starts laughing again. “Diabolo,” he manages to say.

“I put my middle finger up at them.”

Trip, grinning, says, “This is the best drunken shenanigans I’ve ever been a part of.”


	112. but I am what I am and I know what I'm not, and I know enough to know it's never gonna be much more than weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Angie run into an issue at work, and Steve and his bunch band together to help them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter of gratuitous X-Men cameos, apparently.

“...and we have one right now, Tandy, she’s a boxer-lab mix or something. Not even two, sweetest dog ever, she’ll come right up and lick your face.” Bucky grins. “I mean, the name is stupid, but it’s temporary. I’m hoping whoever gets her will have more sense.”

Angie coos. “She sounds adorable!”

“Don’t tempt us,” Peggy groans. “I’m sure Cody would love a friend, but we haven’t got the energy for two dogs, I’m afraid.”

Pouting a bit, Angie says, “I wasn’t getting any ideas, don’t worry.”

“Careful,” says Natasha, smirking. “James can sell anyone on any dog.”

Bucky shrugs. “I just want them all to go to good homes.”

“We know,” Steve says. “Someday, they will.”

“Gonna have to buy a farmhouse for all the damn animals we’re gonna have,” jokes Sam. “Like in that game we played with T’Challa.”

“You’d all be so cute in overalls,” Sharon grins.

“I’m not wearing overalls,” says Natasha quickly. “I’m definitely buying them for all of you for Christmas, though.”

Everyone is laughing about this and Angie is about to say something teasingly about helping her pick them out, when Miriam Frye approaches the table and clears her throat. “Beg pardon,” she says, “I don’t mean to interrupt your evening, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with Ms. Carter and Ms. Martinelli.”

Peggy frowns. “I get the feeling somehow that you didn’t just happen to stumble on us here.”

“You would be correct,” says Miriam. “I made some inquiries as to your whereabouts this evening. May I steal you for a moment from your...friends?” She raises an eyebrow at the five of them, who are giving her looks that range from baffled to suspicious.

“Is something wrong?” Angie asks.

“Nothing that can’t be mended,” says Miriam, trying for cheerful. “Shall we go out to the lobby? It shouldn’t take long.”

“Come on, love, let’s make it quick,” Peggy mutters, grabbing Angie’s hand and rising.

Once they’re in the lobby, Miriam rummages in her oversized purse before pulling out a small stack of papers. “I understand the two of you have a... _personal_ relationship,” she says, somehow making _personal_ sound like a dirty word. “Interfaculty relationships are, of course, permitted by the school, although some of us feel that they may lend unnecessary distractions to one’s duties as an educator. However, myself and a number of parents and students feel that the...unorthodox nature of your relationship might be distracting to the students as well as yourselves. Therefore, we’ve drafted this petition to ask you to keep all personal effects to do with said relationship off the school premises.”

 _“What_?” yelps Angie. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Miriam looks offended at her language, but explains, “Your engagement rings, and wedding rings when the time comes. If you would be willing to not wear them on the premises…”

“Why would we be willing to do that?” Peggy exclaims. “Last I checked, this was perfectly legal.”

“Legal is not the same thing as morally correct,” says Miriam. “It’s just that we feel this, along with your choice for the musical last spring,” she nods at Angie, “does not represent the values that we associate with the school.”

Angie looks like she might deck Miriam in the face. “God forbid our gay kids see you can grow up and be _happy_ , huh? You’d rather they just be secret and miserable their whole lives, no matter how short they are.”

“Who, exactly, is we?” Peggy asks icily.

“As I said, myself and some of the students and parents,” says Miriam vaguely. “I was intending on presenting it to Principal Phillips to argue our case, but I wanted to ask you in person in the hopes that we could settle this quietly.”

“Nothing about this is going to be quiet,” hisses Angie.

Miriam shrugs. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. The two of you are valued faculty members and I regret that it’s come to this.”

“That it’s come to you trying to run us out on a rail because of some puritanical notion of propriety?” Peggy questions, voice low. “Yes, that is a shame.”

 

* * *

 

“What was that about?” Steve asks when Peggy and Angie return.

Furious, Angie snaps, “Oh, just that she wrote up a goddamn _petition_ to ask us not to wear our fucking engagement rings at school.”

“ _What_?” Sharon exclaims. “That’s absurd!”

“It’s not a surprise, unfortunately,” Peggy sighs. “Although - I do wonder why she thinks it’s the rings themselves that would be the problem. Students don’t automatically know that we’re _queer_ -engaged by looking at them.” She rolls her eyes bitterly.

“I don’t think a lot of the kids probably know you guys are a thing,” Steve says earnestly. “A lot of us had no idea back when.”

Peggy smiles indulgently. “I think a few more of them have figured it out, but it’s not exactly the source of campus gossip,” she says.

Natasha scoffs. “As if it _would_ be. That’s the kind of thing that’s scandalous for a week and then everyone forgets about it.”

“Yeah, and I kinda feel like this isn’t even legal,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t looked into the laws that much, but since she’s not even your actual employer, I mean…”

“Oh, it’s ridiculous,” Angie agrees. “She’s on one of her damn crusades again and we’re just the latest in a long line of targets. Phillips is gonna laugh her out of his office, if she even gets that far. I’m just pissed she came at us while we weren’t even _working_ , just trying to live like regular people!”

“You said she had a petition?” Bucky asks. “Who the hell would even sign something like that?”

“She said parents and students, which probably only means a few of them, but still,” Peggy sighs. “Conservative sorts.”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to get up a counterpetition,” Sharon says. “Get more people signing ours than theirs so in the _unlikely_ event that it holds any weight, we can fight it.”

“Yes, you’re a Carter,” Peggy grins. “It’s certainly appreciated.”

Natasha bumps Sharon’s shoulder with her own. “Always coming to the rescue, this one. And him,” she adds, nodding at Steve.

“I just try to help when I can,” Steve shrugs.

“Well, it’s appreciated,” sighs Angie. “It might blow over without any trouble, but Miriam can be pretty tenacious.”

“We got your backs,” says Sam.

 

* * *

 

“Anyway,” Steve is saying, “this woman is the same teacher who always gives them trouble, and this is just going too far.”

Drax frowns. “That is despicable! Would you like me to pay this woman a visit? I am told my fists can be very convincing.”

“Please for the love of whatever you believe in, don’t do that,” Gamora deadpans. “We don’t want to make _more_ trouble for them.”

Shrugging, Drax says, “I was merely offering.”

“I could slash her tires,” Nebula chimes in from the desk.

“That’s probably not going to get anything done either,” Steve says, “but I’ll tell Peggy and Angie you offered. They’ll probably be flattered.”

“Well,” Gamora says awkwardly, clearing her throat, “sorry about the whole… thing.”

 

* * *

 

“This is outrageous!” Thor says. “That anyone would be so callous as to try to forbid expressions of love - I’m appalled!”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Steve nods, “but your support is appreciated.”

Thor shakes his head. “Please tell Ms. Carter and Ms. Martinelli that I am willing to do anything else they may need to help. And I’m sure Jane will agree, when I tell her.”

Thor’s coworker, Kurt, saunters over. “What’s going on?” he asks in his soft German accent.

After Thor explains, Kurt scowls. “This woman sounds like the worst kind of Christian. And I considered becoming a priest!”

“She’s a piece of work,” Steve agrees. “I never had any of her classes, but that was on purpose.”

“Let me sign this too,” Kurt says, offering his hand. “I spent too long feeling like an outcast because of my feelings to put up with that sort of thing from others now.”

“Thank you,” Steve says with a grateful smile, handing the petition over. “Every little bit helps.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, good!” Steve exclaims. “You’re all here.”

“What’s going on?” Jemma asks, frowning.

“It’s ridiculous,” Steve says. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” nods Skye. “Are you talking like funny ridiculous or terrible ridiculous?”

“Terrible,” Steve sighs. “One of the teachers at Peggy and Angie’s school is trying to petition to ban them from wearing their engagement rings.”

“No!” Jemma exclaims. “That’s horrible!”

Fitz tilts his head. “What is even the _point_ of that?”

“Preventing them from promoting their lifestyle,” Steve says. “It’s a rotten idea, but she’s always got something like that going.”

“ _Wow,_ ” Skye says, clenching her fist. “Fuck her.”

Trip shakes his head. “Can’t believe some people are such dicks.”

“Can’t she get fired for this?” Fitz asks. “I mean, isn’t it harassment or something?”

“It’s certainly more personal than some of the stuff she’s pulled,” Steve shrugs, frowning. “We’re doing a counterpetition, if you’d all sign?”

“Of course!” Jemma says. “I can’t believe anyone would try to do something that cruel. Especially to Peggy and Angie, they’re…” She trails off.

Skye grabs her hand and squeezes it, then asks, “Have we got like a game plan or anything to get her to back off?”

“So far, just the signatures,” Steve admits. “Beat her at her own game, is the thought.”

Trip shrugs. “Honestly, just showing her that enough people are willing to push back might do it. People like this are mostly just scared and mean. If you show them you’re not gonna put up with their bullshit, they’ll tone it down at least. Usually.”

 

* * *

 

“Pears or plums?” Sam asks.

“Well, you know how Buck feels about plums,” Steve smiles.

Sam snickers. “Plums it is,” he says, starting to pick them out.

“Oh,” Steve exclaims, glancing around, “Victoria and Isabelle. I haven’t talked to them about the petition yet.”

“Go ahead, I’ll finish with the plums,” says Sam with a smirk. “Oh, and grab some pasta on the way back, will you?”

“Promise,” Steve nods, heading across the produce section to where Victoria and Isabelle are apparently perusing salad. In greeting, he says, “Go show Sam, he’ll be so proud of you.”

“Excuse me?” Victoria asks, but she’s smiling.

“Salad,” Steve says. “Sorry, it’s kind of a joke.”

Isabelle snorts. “Sam’s the one who convinces the rest of you to eat like actual humans, right?”

“Something like that,” Steve chuckles. “Actually, though, I came over here to ask you guys for a favor.”

“Depends what it is,” Victoria says, which is still more of an answer than most people would get.

“Sharon’s aunt and her girlfriend got engaged,” Steve explains, “but one of the other women who teaches at the same school as them wants to ban them from wearing their rings at work. She’s working up a petition, so we’re running a counterpetition to prove there are decent people out there who’ll stand up against bigotry like that.”

Isabelle grimaces. “Well, it’s always nice to be reminded that some people will never see us as people.”

“Anyway, would you guys be willing to sign?” Steve asks, rummaging in his pocket for paper and pen.

“Of course,” says Isabelle. “I’d like to do a lot more, but I shouldn’t elaborate.”

“I’m sure nobody will tattle,” Victoria murmurs, strangely playful.

“Well, if you really want to hear, I’ll tell _you_ later,” teases Isabelle, then turns back to Steve. “Got a pen on you? I don’t, sorry.”

“Here,” Steve says, offering. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course,” Victoria says. “This hits home, so.”

Isabelle smiles fondly at Victoria. “Did you just admit something affected you?” she murmurs. “You’re getting soft.”

“It’s an exception,” Victoria shrugs.

 

* * *

  

“...so then I told him my first memory was watching my uncle play _Zelda II_ while I sat in his lap, and that I begged for my own console for my fifth birthday and have been gaming ever since, and he could just fuck off.” Jubilee takes a self-satisfied swig from her drink. “Then he left.”

Sharon chuckles. “I hope he was appropriately chastened,” she says.

“I would say it’s a better bet that he just felt pouty and maybe fired off a couple of sexist tweets,” Jean nods. “But it’s nice to dream.”

Jubilee snorts. “Whatever. That’ll teach him to question my geek cred.”

“Do guys ever stop being so immature?” Jean, who’s a good few years Sharon’s junior, asks.

“I wish,” Sharon laughs.

“If you’re lucky, they’re not total shitbags,” adds Natasha. “Our boys are pretty great. But some of them are shitbags forever. At least the two of you don’t have to worry about that for now.”

Jean giggles, nudging Jubilee’s shoulder. Jubilee smirks. “One of my thousand benefits.”

“You two are cute,” Natasha says. “Sharon mentioned to me awhile back that one of her coworkers was stressing about some girl, so I’m glad you worked it out.”

“I hadn’t done the girl thing before!” Jean defends, laughing. “And I didn’t want to mess up our friendship.”

“Lucky for you, you’re irresistible,” teases Jubilee.

“Well, gosh,” Jean exclaims, batting her eyelashes.

“This is so charming,” Sharon says to Natasha. “The honeymoon stage, proverbially.”

Natasha smirks. “What does that make us, then?”

“Something that doesn’t involve a marriage metaphor because that might freak you out?” Sharon teases.

“That’s an acceptable answer,” Natasha says with a grin.

“Gross,” snarks Jubilee.

“We know,” Sharon chirps.

Natasha nods smugly, then turns to Sharon. “Hey, so you had that thing you wanted to ask them about _…_ ”

“Right!” Sharon says. “Right. So my aunt’s coworker is trying to ban her from wearing her engagement ring to school, because she’s engaged to another teacher who’s a lady, so would you guys be willing to sign a petition opposing that?”

“Oh, fuck yeah I will,” says Jubilee. “That’s so shitty!”

“It really is,” Jean agrees. “I’m so sorry. Tell them I’m sorry.” She reaches across the table to grab the petition and scribble her name on it.

“Thank you,” Sharon says. “I mean it might not even come to anything, but we have to try.”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you guys for coming out tonight,” Sharon says, nodding to Matt and Foggy.

“I mean, we’ll never say no to someone buying us food,” Matt says cheerfully.

“Claire explained that we needed some legal advice, right?” Steve asks.

Foggy nods. “Yeah, she did. She said something about a teacher trying to ban other teachers from wearing rings?”

“Sharon’s aunt, ah, Mi… Ms. Carter, she’s been teaching high school for years, and she’s engaged to one of the other teachers, Ms. Martinelli,” Steve sighs. “Because they’re two women, one of the other staff members is fired up.”

Matt scowls. “What exactly is she doing?”

“She’s trying to take action so they can’t wear their rings at school,” Sharon says. “A petition, to start. I’m sure that won’t be the last of it.”

“Well, Foggy and I did some checking into the local laws and she really doesn’t have any legal standing at all,” he replies. “Especially because she’s not actually their employer.”

“Yeah, the only issue might be if you think the principal might be going to take it a step further and ban all rings, or something,” Foggy adds.

“I can’t imagine Principal Phillips caring enough to do anything like that,” Steve admits.

Matt finishes chewing his food and then nods. “The counterpetition’s not a bad idea, though. At the very least, the numbers will present a strong argument.”

Sharon grins. “I thought it might help,” she says. “Because god knows Miriam isn’t worried about the law as it stands. She’s worried about ‘moral decency.’” She rolls her eyes.

Foggy laughs. “Oh, one of _those_. Yeah, good luck with that.” He takes a drink. “Didn’t you say she’s done stuff like this before too?”

“Book-banning, trying to stop the big queer school musical, all that,” Sharon agrees.

“Are we sure she didn’t come out of some satire novel?” Matt asks, smirking.

“Not 100% sure,” Sharon says. “And even if she did, we still have to deal with her.”

Foggy takes a long drink. “Surprised you’re not having one of these, then,” he teases.

“I’m seriously considering it,” Sharon declares.


	113. he can be ordinary in the best ways and still dance like a poet through every word he says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's 30th birthday is coming up, so his partners team up to make it the best one ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's canon birthday is September 22nd. He also shares it with Bilbo and Frodo Baggins and Kara Danvers/Supergirl.

“So I hope you know that he’s totally gonna use this to film you running,” teases Natasha as the four of them walk upstairs toward Sharper Image.

“Why would he do that?” Steve asks, making a face.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grins. “‘Cause you look hot when you run,” he teases.

“Then he’d be filming all of us,” Steve declares with a smile.

“You’re the only one who has a route,” Sharon points out. “Hell, I do most of my running indoors, which is significantly less interesting to watch.”

“It’s interesting for me, if I’m perving on you,” corrects Natasha with a smirk.

“I hope Sam doesn’t film that,” Sharon retorts. “You wouldn’t exactly look good.”

Natasha snorts. “Not like he wouldn’t be perving too.”

“You guys standing there gawking is one thing,” Sharon shrugs. “Videoing it is another.”

“Aw, well, he wouldn’t do it if you don’t want,” Bucky interjects. “He’d probably just do it to Steve to give him shit.”

“Explain this to me,” Steve says. “Because I’m not really sure where the giving shit comes in.”

“You outrun him like it’s nothing. So following you with the droid, that’s his way of getting even. Plus, y’know, the view is good too.”

“I guess,” Steve shrugs. “I kind of think he’s going to be using it for more than vague revenge, probably, but maybe that’s just me.” He’s smirking. He’s being a shit. He knows it’s not just him but he also knows saying it is silly.

Natasha snorts. “ _Well_. Can’t blame him.”

“For which part?”

“Wanting footage for less innocent purposes,” she teases, bumping her shoulder against him.

“Are we still talking about revenge or did we go back to the dirtier stuff?” Steve deadpans.

“Whatever you want it to be, Rogers,” she says with a playful shrug.

Sharon rolls her eyes. “I’m really trusting you guys that this is a good idea,” she says.

“Oh, it is,” Natasha says. “He does actually want to be able to film shit. And it’s got VR capabilities, I know he wants to play with that.”

Bucky nods. “He’s gonna geek out so much.”

“Good,” Sharon nods. “That’ll be fun. I like doing nice things for him, he does his best to have everyone’s backs and stuff.”

Natasha looks mock-offended. “And the rest of us don’t?” she teases.

“I mean, you _do_ ,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “But Sam’s different about it, y’know?”

“I do, yeah. He deserves something nice.”

They enter Sharper Image and are greeted by Tony, who has on a vague “customer greeting” face before he realizes who they are. “Oh,” he says. “Uh. Hi, guys.”

“Tony,” Steve says with a polite nod.

“Fancy running into you here,” says Natasha, smirking.

“Are we all going to stare at each other for a while?” Sharon asks sweetly.

Tony coughs. “Uh, no, not unless you want to, and I definitely see the appeal of that. What are you here for?”

“This drone,” Bucky says, holding out his phone with the product information from the Sharper Image website. “It’s Sam’s birthday on Thursday, so.”

Tony glances at the screen and nods. “Okay, okay, good solid choice. We’ve got one of those, for sure. But could I maybe draw your attention to the Steady Cam 4K Professional?” He gestures to one that seems to have its own display case.

“Yeah, that’s about $800 out of our price range,” says Natasha dryly.

“We want to treat him, but we’re not exactly moneyed,” Steve points out.

Tony shrugs. “Hey, it was worth a try. Can’t say I’m not putting any effort in.” He turns to go to the back, calling, “Gimme a sec, I’ll have the other one for you.”

“Wow,” Bucky says once he’s left the room, “he’s almost being civilized.”

“It’s probably an act to lull us into thinking he’s changed,” Sharon decides.

Natasha snorts. “Maybe, but I’m not convinced he’s that good of an actor.”

“Probably not,” Steve sighs. “I’m not sure Tony is capable of change.”

It’s not a minute more before Tony reappears, holding the box. “Sure I can’t get anything else for you? Camera, speakers, new phone? Personal...massager?” This last is directed at Sharon and Natasha only.

“God, no,” Sharon groans. “You guys don’t even sell any good ones.”

Tony looks a bit miffed. “How do you know?”

“Trust us,” says Natasha with an eyeroll. “I think we’re done here.”

“Alright, alright.” Tony leads them to the register and starts ringing them up.

“Thank you,” Steve says, trying to refrain from jumping to their defense even though a line like that really deserves it. “Don’t worry about giftwrapping it.”

Tony shrugs. “You’re the boss. Cash or credit?”

“Cash,” Steve says, which prompts everyone to start pulling out their wallets.

Once that’s all done, Tony says, somewhat reluctantly, “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” says Bucky with a shit-eating grin as they leave.

 

* * *

 

“You guys, this is an obscene amount of fruit,” Sam says, laughing just before he takes a bite of a strawberry.

“I told them it’d be too much,” Steve replies brightly.

Bucky scoffs. “Geez, first you say we need to eat _more_ fruit, now this is _too much_ fruit, there’s just no winning!” Then he winks.

“Sure isn’t,” Sam agrees cheerfully, eating another strawberry. “Eat a plum, Buck.”

“We thought about getting a chocolate fountain to dip them in too,” says Natasha, “but Steve thought that might be overkill.”

“Well, does anyone really need a chocolate fountain? Someone would have to take it home after,” Steve declares.

“That would be just terrible,” deadpans Bucky.

“We don’t have that farmhouse quite yet,” Steve replies with a cheerful shrug. “It’s a space issue.”

Sam snorts and replies, “Yeah, a lot of farmers have a chocolate fountain.”

“Oh, so we’re actually _farming_ on the farm now,” Sharon laughs.

“I mean, can you get farmhouses without the farms?”

“I’d be okay with this,” interjects Natasha, smirking. “I mean, I’m not gonna do any of the farming, but I’ll watch you guys farm. Sounds hot.”

Sharon snorts. “I’m trying to imagine it and all I’m getting is Steve chopping wood like a disproportionately pretty lumberjack,” she says.

“Really?” Steve asks, but he’s laughing.

“You so would,” snickers Bucky. “We’d never run out of firewood.”

“Yeah, maybe we should just make sure we get a house with a real fireplace so we can make Steve chop wood for us,” Sam teases.

“What if I refused?” Steve asks, but he’s grinning.

“C’mon, Rogers, _pleeeeease_?” says Bucky, putting the slightest exaggerated whine in his voice.

“I shouldn’t have to be the only one chopping wood,” Steve replies, raising an eyebrow.

Sam sighs exaggeratedly. “Alright, alright, I’ll help,” she says with a grin.

“Not today, though,” Sharon chimes in. “It’s your birthday. We get to spoil you.”

“Yeah, you can sit back and watch the hypothetical wood-chopping,” says Natasha. “I could try it, I guess. Also, hey, someone go get the cake.”

Sharon springs up to do, giggling, and Steve starts clearing space. By the time she’s returned, a sizable gap has been made in the fruit display where she can set the cake - which is decorated to look like Optimus Prime.

“Happy birthday,” Sharon croons, grinning.

“This is awesome! Did you guys make it?”

“Sharon and I baked it, and Steve decorated,” says Bucky. “It was Tasha’s idea though.”

“Yeah, I’m not much for the baking, but I googled pictures of him,” shrugs Natasha.

“Well, it’s great.” Sam gets up to hug and kiss them all. “Thanks, you guys. Love you.”

“We love you too,” Steve says, grabbing his hand to squeeze.

“Although,” Sam adds teasingly, “I’m guessing it’s not as healthy as some of the cakes I make.”

“Nope,” Natasha replies, “but you’ll live, Wilson.”

Bucky goes to get the lighter and candles they brought and Natasha adds, “Better bring the fire extinguisher in case all these candles set something else on fire.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I'm thirty. The rest of you aren’t _that_ far behind me.”

“Every little bit counts,” Sharon chirps.

“Says the baby of us all,” he replies, leaning over to peck her cheek fondly. “Respect your elders, child.”

“Excuse me!” Sharon exclaims. “Do you wanna go back to library detention?”

Grinning, Sam raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize that was on the table for today. You offering?”

“I mean, if you really want, but we were kinda thinking we’d keep it to pleasure exclusively today,” says Natasha with a laugh. “You’ve been good, you deserve nice rewards.”

“Can’t say I object to that,” snickers Sam.

Bucky returns and begins setting up the candles. “What’d I miss?”

“Banter,” Sharon declares. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

They light the candles, sing a slightly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” and Sam obligingly blows them out. “See, nothing lit on fire. Satisfied?”

“Very, old man,” replies Natasha.

“We need plates,” Steve realizes, laughing. “And silverware. Be right back.” He hops up to grab such things.

Bucky grins. “So, better get started on your will then.”

“You get nothing,” says Sam cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

“So,” says Natasha after they’ve eaten cake (and more fruit, at Sam’s playful insistence). “Next is presents. We’ve got two for you.”

“Ooh, I feel so spoiled,” says Sam.

“You should,” Steve says, rising and going to the kitchen again, this time for a box gift-wrapped in hand-illustrated bird-patterned paper that he presents to Sam with a grin.

“Holy shit, did you draw those?”

Steve nods. “I’ve been working on it,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck.

“I feel like I gotta be super careful with this,” admits Sam, gingerly picking the tape off. “I could frame this.”

“I told him we could’ve just bought some, but he insisted,” says Bucky fondly.

“I didn’t see any in stores that I liked,” Steve replies, shrugging.

“Well, it’s gorgeous,” replies Sam, pausing to kiss Steve before returning to carefully pull off the paper. “Oh my god, you didn’t!”

“We did!” Sharon beams. “This was a good decision, I’m guessing.”

Sam nods, grinning widely as he looks at the box. “And it’s got red on it! You guys are the best.”

“We know,” says Natasha smugly as she comes over to give him a kiss. “But you’re not actually calling it Redwing, are you?”

“Yes, and no Urban Dictionary page you pull up with convince me otherwise,” Sam says, sticking his tongue out.

“Maybe not everyone will know,” Steve suggests. “But now we have two options. You can play with your new toy, or…”

“Or?” Sam’s smirking like he knows what the answer is.

“Or we have _another_ present for you,” purrs Natasha. “Spoiler, it’s sex.”

“Yeah, you can make us do whatever you want too,” says Bucky.

“Well,” says Sam, putting the box down on the table carefully, “happy birthday to _me._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://www.sharperimage.com/si/view/product/Virtual+Reality+HD+Camera+Drone/204816?trail=) is the droid Sharper Image has, and which we were writing about, but if you'd prefer to imagine it's more like the one from the movie, we won't mind at all.


	114. but your airtight drums were bleeding and now it's all on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miriam tries to sanitize the high school's community Halloween event; the mall retaliates with their own event; some uninvited characters crash it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: Nazis and all that comes with them.

**HARVEST FESTIVAL DRESS CODE**

  * ****No costumes that are shorter than your fingertips****
  * **No visible undergarments**
  * **No swimwear**
  * **No skintight apparel**
  * **No occult or Satanic costumes (i.e. witches, devils, etc.)**
  * **No visible tank top/spaghetti straps**
  * **No see-through costumes**



**ANY costume is subject to inspection or questioning from the event coordinators, and violators of these rules may be asked to leave the premises.**

 

* * *

 

“What the hell is this?” Angie asks, waving the flyer around.

“This is yet another example of Miriam’s nonsensical attempts to purify the world around her,” Peggy says. “ _Harvest Festival_. Exactly what harvest is she referring to?”

“Souls, probably,” chirps Dottie from the couch, turning around to smirk at them. “The question is, for salvation or the slaughter?”

Angie rolls her eyes. “It’s bullshit. Little kids aren’t thinking about trying to be sexy, they just like dressing up! And it’s not like one of us would wear a burlesque outfit to this thing.”

Dottie coughs. “Well, there goes my idea.”

“You forget last year’s… policeman debacle,” Ana points out, rolling her eyes.

“Knowing Thompson, he’ll find a way to break this dress code, too,” Peggy sighs.

Angie huffs. “Either way, there’s gotta be something we can do about it. Y’know?”

“This has clearly already gone through Principal Phillips,” Ana says with a frown.

“Yeah, but…some way we can protest, or find a loophole, or something!”

“She’s pretty well taken the actual trick-or-treat out of the event,” Peggy muses, “perhaps we could hold our own somewhere else?”

“Doesn’t Sharon work at the mall?” Dottie asks. “Could see if they’d be willing to host something over there.”

“We could!” Peggy agrees, beaming. “It might be something of an ordeal to organize, but I think we owe it to the kids.”

“I think we should come up with costumes that’ll stick it to Miriam too,” says Angie, eyes gleaming.

“Oh, Edwin and I already have costumes in mind,” Ana grins. “There’s no rule on her list about off-the-shoulder dresses, or French maids either.”

Dottie snickers. “It sounds like maybe there _should_ be. I didn’t know you two were so...adventurous.”

“Considering she’s a Disney character, I’d hardly qualify it as adventurous,” Ana replies, but she sounds smug (that is, after all, some of the joke).

“Actually,” says Dottie, smirking, “I have an idea for the rest of us.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re _so_ understaffed,” Whitney whines, tossing her (brown, ringletted, and fake) hair. “I thought this was supposed to draw volunteers.”

“Yeah, didn’t you have your niece and some of her friends here last year?” Thompson asks Peggy, scratching his head (the long blond wig he’s wearing looks cheap).

Peggy raises an eyebrow. “Sharon and her friends had other plans this Halloween,” she replies. “Excuse me, Harvest Festival. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she got scared off last year, and I wouldn’t wish her having to look at you with a straight face, Fabio.”

Thompson pouts. “Harsh.”

Angie snickers. “She’s not wrong.”

“And what are _you_ supposed to be, anyway?” he shoots back. “A ghost?”

“Actually, yes,” sniffs Angie. “I’m Gertrude Aldridge, of the Aldridge family. My family locked me in the cellar and fed me through a slot in the door. Now I’m trapped and awaiting my chance for vengeance.”

“I take it you didn’t see _Ghostbusters_ ,” Colleen calls. She, Peggy, and Sarah are all clad in matching jumpsuits; Dottie kind of matches, in that she’s wearing the jumpsuit, but it’s zipped down to her bellybutton (what’s underneath is the skimpiest crop top she could find, because that’s not technically against the rules).

Thompson wrinkles his nose. “Nope.”

“Your loss,” says Gabe cheerfully, adjusting the silly black mask around his eyes. “We took the kids, we all had a blast.”

“They’re not really all kids anymore, are they?” Peggy laughs.

“No, but we made them dress up as larger versions of the Parr kids anyway.”

“It was only right,” says his wife Lara, grinning.

“Did you take pictures?” Whitney asks, sounding bored. “The only point of good Halloween costumes is to take pictures to show off.” Her own Scarlett O’Hara costume is very slowly amassing attention on Instagram.

Gabe shrugs. “A couple, but it’s not really our thing. Nora took some selfies. It’s a teenager thing, I guess.”

“Oh,” Whitney sighs.

Dooley, wearing what seems to be one of his regular outfits but covered in orange cat hair, wanders over holding a bowl of candy and asks Jason, who’s wearing a silly wig, a sillier mustache, a suit, and a coordinated vest and tie that have an astoundingly terrible pattern. “What’re you supposed to be?” he grunts.

“Neil deGrasse Tyson,” says Jason cheerfully.

“Oh,” Dooley says, clearly still baffled.

“What are you?” Sarah asks him.

“My couch,” says Dooley, without further elaboration.

“Boy, we know how that is, don’t we, honey?” Sousa says, cheerfully nudging Violet. They’re both dressed like the early 1950s and carrying stuffed dalmatians.

“Do we ever,” Violet agrees, grinning.

Dum-Dum and Morita, wearing (respectively) the same Tigger outfit from last year with a cowboy hat and a reasonable facsimile of van Gogh’s outfit, amble over. “Miriam’s got them doing some idiotic fall wreath craft,” says Morita, smirking. “We snuck over.”

“The kids are barely having it,” snickers Dum-Dum.

“I think they might start a riot, honestly,” says Jarvis, who’s given up on holding his candlestick arms in the proper positions.

“If they do, I’m not cleaning it up,” sighs Ana, repositioning the skirt of (fake) feathers she’s suffering through for the sake of art.

Phillips is the last to wander over, several minutes later, and the only indication that he put any effort into his outfit at all is that he’s wearing an army hat. “They’re almost done,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I expect she’ll be over here any minute, wanting to know why we’re all just standing around.”

Sure enough, Miriam bustles over not long after that, looking stern. “Everyone stop standing around and _do_ something!” she says, sounding exasperated. “I cannot run this entire event myself!”

Rose, who’s wearing a Wonder Woman costume and daring anyone to say anything, says, “I don’t see how that’s a costume,” nodding to Miriam’s cornucopia sweater.

Miriam huffs. “ _I_ am a child of God,” she says haughtily. “Now come, there’s work to be done!”

Everyone reluctantly follows her, Dottie muttering, “Does that mean she’s usually not?”

 

* * *

 

 

“So Jane and Helen are doing okay, down at their store,” Maya reports, setting her basket of refill candy down. “They haven’t gotten the problem kids yet, but everyone else has been pretty cool, apparently. And Thor and Kurt are just having a blast.”

“Good,” nods Melinda. “Kohl’s is good, and Hot Topic. Loki was up to his usual bullshit.” She rolls her eyes. “Carina told him off, though.”

Bucky snorts. “Why am I not surprised. Anyway, they’re all good at the bookstore.”

Since Sharon’s aunt mentioned the “harvest festival” going on at the high school, Sharon took it upon herself to organize a non-ridiculous trick-or-treating event at the mall. It’s been going pretty well so far, with a steady stream of kids since the “harvest festival” finished absurdly early. A lot of the more child-friendly stores are open and the employees are acting as the candy dispensers, but Bucky, Melinda, and Maya are some of the volunteers on refill duty.

They’re hanging around trying for awkward small talk when Sif, her absurd Viking hat balanced somewhat precariously on her head, comes over. “I brought cookies from Volstagg,” she says, handing small bags to Maya and Bucky. “And I was thinking we could go...refill some candy together,” she says to Melinda with a wink.

Maya and Bucky make exaggerated gagging noises while Melinda rolls her eyes and says, “Sounds good.” She grabs Sif’s hand and says, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Yeah, take your time,” teases Bucky. “It sure can take awhile to....dispense candy.”

“Good luck,” Maya snarks as they refill their refill buckets and head off.

They head to the other end of the mall toward the Lego Store (only stopping to make out for a minute or two, and out of sight of anyone), waving when they spot Rhodey standing in the entrance. “Nice jumpsuit,” teases Sif.

Rhodey grins. “I mean, Kara and her friends had the rest of the Ghostbusters under control, I figured I might as well be Kevin.”

“Well, you look the part,” says Melinda with a smirk. “Much smarter, though.”

“Thanks, glad to hear it,” he replies.

They’re about to head out when Melinda hears a couple of loud voices from further down the aisle. “I can’t fucking believe Candy Tyme isn’t giving out candy,” one of a group of several male (adult) Ghostbusters is grumbling loudly. “I mean, it’s a candy store! What the shit!”

Melinda raises an eyebrow. “Someone’s not in the Halloween spirit.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking maybe we wanna see if Hill or Fury is around?” Rhodey asks.

Sif shakes her head. “Maria’s stuck chaperoning a group of the ‘difficult’ kids.”

“Of course.” Rhodey sighs. “You guys up for a bit of hooligan wrangling?”

“Always.” Melinda looks oddly pleased by the idea.

As the group comes up, mostly scowling, Rhodey says, “Hey, uh, we don’t care if you guys are here, but could you maybe keep it G-rated? There are kids here.”

One of the guys curls his lip and says, “Don’t tell me what to fucking do! What are you, a cop?”

“No, we’re not corrupt or Nazi enough to be the police,” snarks Sif. “But if you don’t quit being assholes, we’d be happy to kick your asses.”

“Bring it on, bitch,” says one, brandishing his proton gun like a club.

Melinda and Sif automatically drop into fighting stances, and Rhodey, after glancing around to make sure there are no kids in sight, joins them. “I guess this is gonna be more interesting than we thought,” he mutters.

 

* * *

 

Maria’s currently cursing her no-nonsense reputation, because maybe if people didn’t know her as “that woman who takes no shit” she wouldn’t have gotten stuck with a group of kids who are...well…

“Swear to god, if you try to bite someone one more time, I’ll lock you in the jail cell,” she says to an eight-year-old named Ethan who’s dressed as a zombie and has already left bite marks on her arm.

He sticks out his tongue. “I’m hungry for braaaaaaiiins!”

“Yeah, whatever,” she sighs. “C’mon, little b- troublemakers, let’s head down this way.”

She’s trying to herd them in the direction of the bookstore, and also trying to keep two of them from getting in a fight over Reese’s peanut butter cups, when she spots two figures who are definitely _not_ children but also not mall employees heading in that direction too. She raises an eyebrow and begins to walk a little faster.

By the time she and the kids arrive at Pages, one of the Hydra guys (and they’re _definitely_ Hydra guys; even though they’re wearing shitty Ghostbusters jumpsuits she recognizes at least one of them) is trying to chat up Hope, who’s apparently there helping Wanda and looks deeply uncomfortable. “It really looks like a maid outfit though,” he’s saying, leaning towards her. “It’s sexy.”

“It’s a pioneer girl’s birthday outfit,” Hope squeaks. “And. Stop… that.”

He’s in the middle of saying something else probably equally gross, his friend leering behind him, when Maria calls, “Hey, asshole, you wanna back off?” She ignores the shocked giggles from the kids behind her and adds, “If you don’t leave that girl alone you’re not gonna like the consequences.”

“What’s it to you?” the guy asks, sneering. “Friend of yours? _Girlfriend_?”

“No, I just hate creeps who won’t take no for an answer.”

“And _I’m_ her girlfriend anyway,” says Wanda, coming up behind Hope to put her arm around her protectively. “But even if I wasn’t, you’re making us uncomfortable and you need to leave.”

“I think we can do whatever we want,” says the other one, taking a step towards her menacingly. The other smirks and starts to walk towards Maria.

Maria sighs. “Kids, none of you move a _muscle,_ ” she says, and bounds over to hit him square in the chest with her taser before his first punch even connects.

While he’s writhing on the ground and moaning, she can hear the shouts of “Wow!” “Oh my god!” from behind her. Once she makes sure he’s incapacitated and has handcuffed him, she turns back to the kids, who are all watching her, eyes wide. “If your parents ask, you never saw any of this,” she says sternly. “You had a totally normal trick-or-treat and nobody tasered anybody.”

They’re all too stunned to do anything but nod and mumble, “Okay.”

Then she turns back to make sure the other guy isn’t causing trouble, only to see Wanda beating him over the head with his proton gun. “Alright, so that’s under control,” she mutters, pulling out her walkie-talkie. “Hey Fury, we’ve got a situation here.”

 

* * *

 

“Give us a call when you’re done here, all right?” Violet says. “Let us know you got out all right.” She, Sousa, Jarvis, and Ana have been called down to the security office to help walk the children out of the mall, since they were in charge of shepherding some of them _to_ the mall in the first place after Miriam’s debacle.

Peggy nods. “I’ll be sure to,” she agrees. “Hopefully it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“I guess that’s one thing to say for Miriam’s mess,” sighs Rose. “No Nazi gang members.”

Jarvis chuckles, though it sounds more sad than amused. “That’s quite a statement. Alright, I suppose I’ll head down this way.”

Most of them head out to sweep the mall, and Angie rolls her eyes. “Leave it to these guys to ruin everything nice.”

“It is rather their M.O.,” Peggy agrees grimly.

“Goodie,” Rose says sarcastically.

“Hey!” comes a shout from nearby. When Peggy and Angie turn to look, there’s a group of three Hydra members standing behind them. “You look like shit in that jumpsuit, you should take it off for us,” sneers one of them.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Peggy calls back, folding her arms. “Although, neither was kicking your ass, and that’s certainly about to happen.”

“Please, bitch,” scoffs another. “Not a chance.”

“Care to test that theory?” Peggy retorts, nodding toward the nearest exit.

“With pleasure.” The two follow her out, and the last one glances after his friends before turning to Rose and saying, “Didn’t realize they made Wonder Woman outfits for fat girls.”

Rose’s expression says she’s about three seconds from grabbing a chair and beating him with it, until T’Challa suddenly slips into the conversation and says, “If you are going to continue to insult her, you’ll have me to contend with.” He’s wearing a silly-looking storebought cowboy costume, but he still manages to look powerful enough that the statement is threatening.

The Hydra guy leans forward as if he’s thinking about fighting T’Challa, then shakes his head and bolts for the exit.

“Thank you,” Rose says, grinning. “I actually don’t mind being a damsel if you’re the one coming to my rescue.”

T’Challa laughs. “Happy to help. The costume suits you.”

 

* * *

 

Clint bursts into Yankee Candle so dramatically that he almost knocks over a display of pumpkin-scented candles. “Are you okay?” he gasps.

“Uh, yes,” Laura says. “What’s going on?”

“Nazis! They’re all over the mall, I guess, starting shit, and I came to make sure you were okay,” he pants.

“I promise no Nazis have come to start shit with me,” Laura says. “I could just threaten them with fire if they did.”

“Oh.” Clint blinks. “I guess that’s true. But, uh, anyway, if you wanna go to a...safer...place I’ve talked to Raina and she’s totally cool with you hanging out down there while we get it under control.”

“I mean, I guess?” Laura says. “I don’t super need the safety thing, but I guess I’d rather not be alone right now, and I’m guessing you have to go help.”

“Sorry.” Clint looks chagrined. “I’m kinda good at punching stuff, I guess, so they need me.”

“It’s not a thing,” Laura says. “I’m proud of you. Let me just lock up in here.” From there, she speeds through turning the lights out and ushers him out of the store, pulling down the gate behind them.

Clint takes her hand as they walk down towards the weed store. “Never a dull moment, huh?” he says cheerfully.

“Nope, never,” she agrees. “You want me to have some ass ice waiting for you?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no,” he teases. “I’m not planning on falling on them but you never know, I guess.”

When they arrive at the weed store, Raina’s talking to a woman wearing a Ghostbusters jumpsuit. Ironic. “Oh, hey,” says Clint. “Everything still good here?”

“Very,” Raina beams. “I was just getting caught up on something. Elektra is my spy tonight, isn’t that right?”

The woman - Elektra, apparently - snickers. “Something like that, yes. And you are?”

“Clint,” he says. “I was just coming to, uh.” He gestures at Laura.

“He was escorting me over,” Laura chimes in.

“How sweet,” says Elektra. “I hear we have a bit of an issue tonight.”

“Yeah, it’s the damn Nazis again,” sighs Clint. “If you see dudes in Ghostbusters suits, probably punch them?”

“You mean like that?” Elektra asks, nodding behind him. Sure enough, there’s a group of them heading their way.

“Yeah, actually.”

“Come on,” Raina says, waving Laura inside. “Let’s get out of the way. I’m not in the mood for racists tonight.” With that, they duck inside the store and head for the back.

Clint glances at Elektra. “You any good at hand-to-hand stuff?”

“I dabble,” she says, but she’s reaching into her suit for something. Something that’s shiny. He decides not to ask any more questions.

 

* * *

 

Vanessa is just minding her own business, occasionally doling out candy because Steve asked her very nicely and she wasn’t in the mood to come up with an excuse since they’re going to the same party later, currently checking her cell phone, when a male Ghostbuster yells, “Hey sexy, you can bite me anytime!”

She rolls her eyes. “These teeth are plastic, they wouldn’t do any good,” she mutters. “Not exactly ideal for piercing arteries.”

He ambles over. “Well, I bet your mouth is good for other things.”

“Telling you to fuck off?”

It’s at this point that Elektra, whose jumpsuit is lightly splattered with something that might be fake blood except it looks a little too dark, slinks over and says, “Am I interrupting something?”

Vanessa smirks as the Hydra guy responds, “Yeah, but that might be okay. How d’you feel about threesomes, baby?”

“Not with you,” Elektra says sweetly, before flicking her wrist and throwing a knife right into his shoulder.

It’s at this point that Vanessa decides to study the wall very intently while Elektra makes quick work of him, and as he drags himself away Elektra asks, “Are you alright?”

“More annoyed than anything,” Vanessa shrugs. “Those thugs can be so trite.” She pauses, looks Elektra over appraisingly. “Much obliged for the rescue,” she adds.

“My pleasure,” purrs Elektra, her eyes flicking over Vanessa. “I’m Elektra. And you are?”

“Vanessa,” replies Vanessa. “You’re the knife girl.”

Elektra laughs. “That’s an interesting reputation. Ah well, I’ve had worse, I suppose. You work here?” she nods at the gallery.

“Yes,” Vanessa says, looking Elektra over none too subtly. “I have a great appreciation for beauty.”

“As do I,” replies Elektra, smiling. “Since it seems we’re safe for the moment, I’m interested in getting to know you better, Vanessa.”

“I wouldn’t object,” Vanessa coos. “Come inside, I’ll shut the gate and we can… talk.”

“Excellent.” Elektra follows her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Vanessa/Elektra is canon in the _Punisher Max_ run.


	115. I know that it's your soul but could you bottle it up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Tony's Halloween party; the party is just getting started, and so is Tony, apparently.

“I wish Rhodey didn’t have that dumb trick-or-treat thing to do,” grumbles Tony.

“Rhodey works at an actual children’s store,” Pepper soothes. “It would be wrong if the Lego Store wasn’t trick-or-treating, and it would be wrong if Rhodey didn’t help the store out.”

Tony pouts. Honest to god pouts. “It’s not like there aren’t other people who work there.”

“Rhodey is good at this kind of thing, though,” Pepper says. “Better than most.”

“I _guess_.” Tony tosses the orange tablecloth on the side table (it’s plastic, but fancy plastic, because the pool room doesn’t have enough Halloween shit in it yet). “Just seems like he could’ve been here to help if he really wanted.”

“He’ll be here later,” Pepper sighs. “And you can boss him around all you want then. Right now you need to learn to share.”

“But I don’t like it,” says Tony. “It’s no fun.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“Oh, I always listen to myself. I talk to myself all the time, actually, did you know that’s a sign of genius?”

Pepper stares at Tony, disbelieving. “I’m going to go check on the food,” she says instead of responding to his question, heading out.

“Okay,” he calls after her, trying for casual, “I’ll just...be here. All by myself.”

It’s not for too long, though, because Bruce and Mack soon wander into the room. “Hey,” Bruce says, grinning and waving the hand that’s not holding Mack’s (it’s holding a plastic cutlass) a bit shyly. “Or should I say ‘yarrr’.”

His outfit is the silliest pirate outfit in the whole world and Tony finds it weirdly adorable. “Hey. The peg leg’s a nice touch,” he says with a nod before turning to Mack. “And what’s your costume?”

Mack’s wearing what looks to Tony like a generic old-timey outfit from maybe the 1800s, but before he can respond to the question, Skye pops out from - Tony swears - nowhere to start singing “How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence, impoverished, in squalor grow up to be a hero and a scholar?”

Tony blinks. “What…”

“The ten-dollar Founding Father without a father got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a self-starter, by fourteen, they placed him in charge of a trading charter,” chimes in Elena, who also seems to have come out of nowhere.

Trip appears behind Skye to add, “And every day while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away across the waves, he struggled and kept his guard up, inside, he was longing for something to be a part of, the brother was ready to beg, steal, borrow, or barter.”

Tony just continues to look baffled, so Mack laughs and sings, “Alexander Hamilton, my name is Alexander Hamilton, and there’s million things I haven’t done, but just you wait, just you wait.”

“Wait, like the guy from history? What does singing have to do with anything? I mean, not that I’m objecting, you have a nice voice, very smooth...”

“It’s a musical,” Bruce explains. “Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote a three-hour musical about Hamilton the historical figure, entirely in rap and hip-hop. He also cast almost every role with actors of color, which reframes the typical historical narrative from the perspective of today’s America. You should definitely give it a listen, it’s excellent.”

“Oh.” Tony tilts his head, as if thinking. “Well, uh, nice...ruffles.” He waves his hand awkwardly at Mack’s shirt.

“Thanks.” Mack grins. “You a tiger?”

“Oh, I’m Tony the Tiger. Because it’s clever, y’know.” Tony does an exaggerated thumbs up. “They’re grrrrreat! Or whatever. Anyway, I’m gonna go find a drink, you’re welcome to tag along.” He leaves, fairly certain they won’t.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, hey, he probably still has a pool table, yeah?” Foggy asks. “We could get a game started. We haven’t played pool in awhile.” He nudges Karen. “You were pretty good last time.”

Karen chuckles. “I could probably be pretty good this time too,” she says, but then she catches sight of Kara frowning at her phone. “Hey, hon, what’s up?”

“Text from Rhodey,” Kara says. “Looks like there’s a bunch of Hydra guys dressed up like original Ghostbusters giving everyone shit.”

Matt frowns. “Do you think they need help over there? I could…”

“No!” exclaim Foggy and Karen at the same time. Foggy puts his hand on Matt’s arm, as if that’s going to stop him from going anywhere. “They’ll be fine,” he says. “Most of the people there are pretty badass, they can handle themselves.”

“They’re taking care of it,” Kara agrees. “Just, they might be a little bit late.” She stows her phone in her jumpsuit pocket like she’s resolving to stop thinking about it, but that’s easier said than done, clearly.

Karen nudges Kara’s shoulder. “Hey,” she says softly, “they’re okay. They’re taking care of it. I’m sure he’s kicking ass, and Raina’s probably just being Raina, and I’m gonna bet Elektra probably already knocked someone out. Everyone’s fine.” She links her arm with Kara’s affectionately.

“Yeah,” Kara says, trying for a smile. “I’m sure they are. This is just… I don’t like it.”

“I know,” Karen murmurs. “But they'll be here soon, and you can see for yourself they’re okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kara says, shaky but trying.

“So,” Foggy says, artificially bright, “Pool? D’you know how to play pool, Kara?”

“Not really,” Kara admits. “You hit balls with sticks. Not really sure why.”

“While we wait for the others to get here, we could teach you,” Matt offers.

“Yeah?” Kara prompts. She’s pretty sure they’re coddling her a little, but she’s not too proud to refuse it.

Foggy nods. “Sure! We taught Karen, right, Karen?”

“Right!” Karen agrees, grinning.

They’ve taught Kara the basics and are just starting on the first game when Tony wanders in, holding a beer. “Oh, hey,” he says with a lazy grin. “Karen, right?”

“We’ve definitely spoken to each other before,” Karen replies.

“Yeah, I remember. You guys playing a round of pool? Mind if I join in?” He grabs a cue without waiting for an answer.

Foggy frowns. “I mean, it’s Kara’s first game, so talk to her about it.”

“How about it?” Tony asks, turning to Kara. “I’ll go easy on you, promise.”

“Uh,” Kara says, trying not to wince. “I’m not really into it.”

“Really? It’s a good game. I mean, if you don’t wanna play me, I get it, I’m intimidating.” Tony winks at Karen and says, “We could go a round after they finish?”

“Maybe I was too vague,” Kara interrupts. “Not into playing you. And I’m getting the feeling Karen isn’t either.”

“Yeah, not so much, no,” Karen says, pouting exaggeratedly. “We’re good here.”

“I’ll play you!” says Foggy. Matt snorts.

Tony barely manages to keep from making a face. “Y’know what, never mind, I’ll just leave you guys to it.” Then he turns to Kara and adds, “Rhodey’s on his way, he says the Nazi problem is under control.”

“I didn’t doubt that it would be,” Kara replies, a bit befuddled.

“I just thought you might wanna know ‘cause, y’know. You have that...thing with him. He hasn’t said anything, but I know how he gets.” Tony shrugs.

“I… have a thing where we’re close and we talk, yes,” Kara says. “Which we were doing a few minutes ago, so.”

“Cool,” replies Tony, too casually. “I won’t get in the way or anything, I get it. How about you, Karen, you have any...things with anyone?”

Karen’s eyes go wide. “I’m not planning on having one with you, if that’s where you’re going with this,” she says.

“That wasn’t where I was going with that, actually,” he says, glancing pointedly at Kara.

“Uh,” Kara squeaks, her confidence suddenly failing.

Matt coughs. “Tony, your doorbell just rang, you should see who it is.”

“How did you hear that? It’s all the way across the…” Suddenly Tony seems to notice the way Matt is frowning and holding a spare pool cue just so, and he nods. “Well, enjoy the game,” he mumbles, and leaves.

“You okay?” Matt asks Kara. “He’s an ass.”

“Yeah,” Kara mumbles. “I just wasn’t expecting… whatever that was.”

“Expect asshattery wherever Tony goes,” Karen sighs. “That’s the easiest policy.”

“I guess,” Kara says.

Foggy smiles encouragingly. “So, pool! If you still wanna, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “That sounds like a good idea.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow,” Skye says once they step inside and she can hear the background music. “I didn’t realize people _actually_ listened to Maroon 5. Like, on purpose.”

“I mean, someone must,” Jemma says doubtfully. “They make money, don’t they?”

Fitz makes a face. “Allegedly.”

“You guys wait here, I’ll be right back,” says Skye, slipping away.

Trip chuckles. “That’s never a good thing to hear.”

“Have faith,” Jemma grins. “I’m sure she’s got a plan.”

Several minutes later, “1999” starts blaring from the speakers and Skye ambles back over, looking smug. “I fixed it.”

“See?” Jemma says to the boys, giving her girlfriend’s hand a squeeze.

“Did you already have this on a playlist?” Fitz asks, eyebrow raised.

“Maybe.” Skye shrugs innocently. “Hey Jem, wanna dance?”

“Please,” Jemma chirps, holding out her hand to let Skye drag her about. Skye does so, tugging her over to where a couple other people are dancing.

“I’m guessing you’d rather not dance,” Trip teases Fitz.

Fitz flushes. “I think I’ll need a drink first,” he says with a grin.

“Hey, we can do that.” Trip leads him off in the direction of the bar.

Meanwhile, Skye is doing her best to get Jemma to dance on-beat, which is proving difficult. “Luckily for you, I find bad dancing adorable,” she says affectionately.

“That’s very lucky,” Jemma agrees. “Luckily for you I’m willing to dance with you anyway.”

Skye pulls her closer to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

“How long till Tony realizes what you’ve done?” Jemma giggles.

“I dunno. If he’s got any sense he’ll leave it. Bowie and Prince are way better than the crap he was playing.”

As if on cue, Tony wanders into the room looking perplexed. “Okay, who messed with the sound system? Although, whoever you are, major kudos on your taste. I can’t even really be mad, although I do wonder if it’s all going to be Prince and Bowie. Can’t really argue with your taste, though.” He spots Pepper over by a punch bowl and, going over to her, asks, “Hey, you wanna dance? In a totally non-romantic or sexual way, I mean.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, somewhat fondly. “I guess I could do that.”

“You don’t _have_ to,” says Tony, smirking. But they start to sway casually together. “Again, I swear there’s no hidden motive here.”

“There’s always a hidden motive with you, Tony,” Pepper points out.

Tony pouts. “How dare you know too much about me.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she shrugs.

“Fair point. I gotta ask, is there any scenario where you’d consider dating me? Outside of my being a sea captain or something, because I get seasick like that. But a plausible scenario.”

“I’ve never been into sea captains,” Pepper says.

“Okay, but you get my point, right? What would I have to do to get you to go on a date with me?” Tony gives her an almost beseeching look.

“Grow up, for one,” Pepper replies. “That’s not an invitation for you to try, or a promise that if you do try anything would come of it.”

“Yeah, but I thought it was worth asking,” says Tony with a shrug. “Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m not one for self-reflection.”

“No,” Pepper says, drawing it out sarcastically. “Why the sudden bout of it, then?”

“Dunno. Was just...thinking. About how to get people to like me. I mean, you only kind of like me, but still.”

“I like you,” Pepper replies, almost snappy. “Just not that way, to sound middle school about it.”

Tony laughs. “Yeah, I know. I was just wondering...since you’re, y’know, an...ideal sort of person, what would need to change.”

“For me, a lot,” Pepper says, because honesty is the best policy right now, probably. “But I’m not everyone. I do agree with everyone that cheesy pick-up lines are best used ironically or not at all, though.”

“Damn, really? Alright, I’ll figure something out. Thanks, Pep.” As the song ends, Tony lets go of her and steps back. “See, all done. That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

“Now did I say it was going to be?”

“No,” replies Tony. “But I wanted to point it out.”

Pepper’s about to reply when Christine comes up behind her to tap her shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?” she asks with a smile. “As...fun...a dance partner as he is, I couldn’t help but wonder if you’d like a dance with me.”

“I don’t see why not,” Pepper says cheerfully. “Lead the way.”

“Have fun,” says Tony, but he can’t help but sound a bit petulant.

“We will,” replies Christine, smirking and leading Pepper away.

Tony’s back to pouting, even though there wasn’t anything _wrong_ with what Christine did. He glances around the room, checking for other unpartnered people. He doesn’t exactly find one, but what he does find is Bruce, standing next to Mack.

Tony shrugs and wanders over. “Hey,” he says to Bruce. “You wanna dance?”

Bruce blinks. “Uh, sure,” he says, glancing somewhat apologetically at Mack. “You good if I do that?”

“Whatever you want,” says Mack, who seems more amused than upset.

“Then, uh, sure. I’m not much of a dancer,” Bruce warns Tony as he leads him away.

“Oh, me neither. You can step on my toes, it’s totally fine.”

“So that’s happening,” Bobbi murmurs, sidling up to Mack and smirking.

Mack rolls his eyes. “At this point it’s mostly just funny.”

“Does he realize it’s the most one-sided love triangle ever?” she asks.

He laughs. “I think ‘love’ is a pretty strong word for whatever his deal is, but he sure doesn’t give up easy.”

“Well, you know, that’s what they call this kind of shit,” Bobbi shrugs. “But okay, it’s a one-sided whatever. Pretty ridiculous.”

“It is, but if it bugged Bruce he’d tell Tony to knock it off. And I’m not worried,” Mack says, watching Bruce awkwardly try to move to the beat. “He’s got it under control.”

“You’re so much more relaxed about this sort of thing than most men,” Bobbi says, chuckling. “Most straight men, anyway.”

Mack snorts. “You know me, I’m not a jealous guy.”

“You’re not,” Bobbi agrees. “It’s refreshing.”

“Glad I could help,” replies Mack with a chuckle.

A couple minutes later, Bruce comes back over and Tony heads off to bother someone else. “D’you wanna dance?” Bruce asks Mack. “I figured not, but.”

“You figured right, Doc,” reassures Mack. “You know me, I’ve got two left feet too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bruce smiles and slips his hand into Mack’s.

“Wow, gross,” Bobbi remarks, waving at them playfully as she makes herself scarce.

Meanwhile, Tony has spotted Hope and Pam and goes over to say hello. He’s never actually spoken to Pam before, which he suspects isn’t an accident. “Hey there,” he says, offering his hand casually. “I’m Tony, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Sure enough, Pam looks apprehensively at Hope before answering, but Hope nods permission. “That’s Pam,” Hope says coolly, and Pam reaches to shake Tony’s hand.

“Hi Pam,” says Tony. “I feel like it’s a shame we’ve never talked before. I bet you’re really good at conversation.”

“I’m okay at it,” Pam replies, her eyebrow raised.

“So what are you dressed as?” Tony asks, looking her up and down very obviously.

“Oh, don’t you know?” Hope says, draping an arm around Pam territorially. “Xena and Gabrielle.” The _obviously_ is implied.

Ah.” Tony nods. “Never really got into that. You guys look good, though.” He’s still mostly looking at Pam (possibly because he’s afraid to make eye contact with Hope).

“Thanks,” Pam says, faking a smile. “They’re kind of classic in the community, so.”

Tony nods again, slower, like he knows what “community” means (he doesn’t). “Makes sense, makes sense. Well, coming from someone who knows absolutely nothing, I dig it.”

Pam not-subtly covers her midriff with her arms, which makes Hope’s eyebrow go up. “And you decided boys should get to be allegedly sexy animals too, I guess?”

“I mean, yeah, sure. Couldn’t resist, with the name.” Tony grins. “Not that you’d be the best person to ask about how effective it is, but still.”

“Tony the tiger, that’s, that’s a kids’ thing, right?” Pam asks innocently.

“Technically, but they sell sexy costumes of kids’ characters all the time. You ever looked at a costume website? It’s ridiculous.” Tony laughs. “Nothing’s sacred on Halloween.”

“Oh, I just meant, I don’t quite remember the joke,” Pam says with a sweet smile.

Tony blinks and replies, “Oh. Yeah, like Frosted Flakes. They’re grrrrrrrrreat!” He strikes the pose again, even though he’s pretty sure it’s a lost cause.

“Oh,” Pam repeats. “That’s, uh, cool.”

“I thought so,” says Tony with a shrug. They stand around looking at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before he adds, “Well, you know where to find me if you want, ladies.”

Hope narrows her eyes. “We do,” she says, her hand sliding very obviously onto Pam’s ass and steering her away.

“I’m okay,” Pam mutters, shaking her head. She doesn’t sound very sure of that.

“Tony’s not the worst person, but he’s kind of a creep sometimes,” Hope says. “If you’re not prepared for it, I could imagine how it would be weird. You’re okay.”

Pam glances up, feeling weirdly apprehensive. “Thanks,” she says. “I haven’t been to a big thing like this in a while, I guess. My, uh, my ex. She was more for small, classy things where nobody really paid any attention to me one way or another, but even if they did the guys knew her enough to know not to get sketchy at me.”

“Yeah,” Hope says, frowning. “Let’s…” She turns a doorknob and motions Pam inside. “We could just be quiet in here a little while, okay?”

“That sounds nice,” Pam agrees. “It’s kinda funny how you get sweet when nobody is looking.”

“You’re not nobody,” Hope says playfully, making her way over to the couch. It appears to be yet another living room (makes sense that a house this big would have so many). “Come over here, princess.”

Giggling, Pam goes to nestle into Hope’s side. “Aye-aye,” she murmurs. “You’re comfortable.”

“I don’t really go out of my way, but thanks,” Hope teases, threading fingers through Pam’s hair.

 

* * *

 

Trip and Fitz are dancing together in a corner, Fitz much more reluctantly than Trip. “Sorry,” he says, as he stops on Trip for the third time.

Trip grins. “No worries, you know I don’t care about that.”

“Still.” Fitz nuzzles against Trip’s shoulder. “I suppose you’ve been putting up with this sort of thing for two years, though.”

“Not putting up with,” corrects Trip. “The only thing I put up with is your insistence that _Farscape_ is a better show than _Next Generation_.”

“It is!” Fitz says, grinning playfully. “The puppet work alone makes it one of the greatest sci-fi shows of all time!”

“But Rygel.”

“You get used to Rygel over time! He becomes sort of endearing,” argues Fitz good-naturedly.

“If you say so,” chuckles Trip, squeezing Fitz’s hand.

“I do,” Fitz replies, tossing his head. “Now if we were talking DS9 vs. _Farscape,_ I’m not so sure.”

“I wouldn’t ask that,” agrees Trip. “It’d be impossible.”

He pulls Fitz a little closer and after a minute or so of comfortable silence, Fitz says, almost shyly, “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Doesn’t feel like it’s been two years,” Trip says, kissing him on the cheek.

Naturally, this means a camera flash goes off in their faces, and that in turn means it’s the fault of Darcy, currently clad in a bluish-gray semi-sheer halter dress and a red wig. She is clearly unapologetic.

Fitz yelps. “ _Really_?”

“You were so cute!” she exclaims, as if this excuses it.

“You couldn’t have just let us be?” grumbles Fitz.

“Not my way,” Darcy shrugs cheerfully.

Trip smirks. “I know, but maybe find someone else’s cuteness to capture right now? Kinda trying to have a moment here.”

“Point me in the right direction and maybe I will,” Darcy challenges.

Trip glances around and spots Jessica, Luke, and Trish, who are all sort of dancing together. Or, Trish is dancing, and Luke and Jessica are looking respectively nonchalant and irritated. “How about them?”

“They’re not gonna be into it,” Darcy says, but this doesn’t stop her from going over and starting to play paparazzi.

“Whoa,” Trish says once she notices, but she’s laughing. “A little warning wouldn’t hurt.”

“A little warning would make it not a candid photograph,” Darcy chirps.

“Because that’s what’s important here,” quips Luke.

“They’re not going anywhere,” Darcy shrugs. “It’s just a hobby.”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “I’m deeply flattered you picked us.”

“It was a very good suggestion, actually,” Darcy grins, nodding in Trip and Fitz’s direction. She might as well share the blame, after all.

“Oh, great, I’m glad we can spread the blame around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Rygel is just the worst part of Farscape. Sorry.


	116. holding my breath until I know you're alright because the water will only rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Tony's Halloween party; certain relationships are discovered and some typical party shenanigans happen.

When the people who were on mall trick-or-treat duty start showing up, Tony hovers close to the front door, staring at it. Rhodey’s one of the last to enter, and Tony throws himself at him, almost knocking Rhodey over. “You’re okay!” he says, holding Rhodey in a vice grip.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine,” says Rhodey, hugging him back and grinning. “We got it taken care of. I kicked some ass.”

“Of course,” says Tony, finally stepping back a little. “I wasn’t worried. I mean, I was, a little, maybe.” He shrugs. “I knew you could take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, I got this one guy in the throat! It was pretty cool.” He glances around. “How’re things here?”

Tony shrugs. “It’s a party, so, y’know, standard awesome. You want a drink? You deserve one for punching a dude in the throat.”

Rhodey laughs and nods. “Sure, a drink sounds good.”

“Dude! What even happened?” Darcy exclaims at her nearest friend, who happens to be Tegan (who’s clearly flushed even under the bright red thunderbolt painted on her face).

“It was incredible,” Tegan says. “These assholes showed up just to make trouble I guess, and Melinda flipped one of them completely over when he tried to come at her. For example.” She grins sheepishly.

“They’re never going to learn,” Darcy sighs, but she’s grinning too.

Sif, overhearing Tegan, nudges Melinda. “Seems you have a fan,” she says with a smirk, nodding in Tegan’s direction.

Melinda snorts. “It’s not like you weren’t equally impressive,” she says, but she’s smiling ever so slightly.

“Flatterer,” Sif says, giving her a quick kiss. “Drinks?”

“Yes please.”

“Hello,” calls Elektra to Karen and Kara, striding over to join their group. She looks smug, and there’s unmistakable blood stains on her jumpsuit.

“Holy shit!” Karen yelps. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

“What _happened_?” Kara asks, eyes big.

“I’m totally fine,” says Elektra, grinning. “I ran into some of those Hydra men. Or, they ran into me.”

Akela, who’s also dressed as a Ghostbuster, nods approvingly. “They deserved what you gave them, I’m sure.”

This seems to calm Kara, who smirks and murmurs, “Did they run into you _ten times_?”

Elektra snorts. “I wasn’t counting. But they were as bad as the man in that song, or worse.”

Foggy’s eyes are wide and he’s staring at Elektra like he half-expects her to lunge at him. “Do you just look so satisfied because you killed those guys, or…”

“I might have met someone...else.” Elektra winks.

It seems to take Foggy a second to figure this out, but once he does he stammers, “D-did you have sex? In the _mall_?”

“I was wondering why your scent was like that,” Matt mutters with a grin.

Elektra smiles coyly, tosses her hair, and doesn’t reply.

“Holy shit!” Karen says again. “Who’d you bang?” She looks around at the new arrivals, trying to decide. “Was it Tegan? Did you bang Tegan?”

“No,” says Elektra with an affectionate eyeroll.

“Helen from the science store?” Matt asks, sounding amused.

“Bereet?” Kara chimes in. “I don’t know if you’d consider yourself a good girl to hook up with, but I bet she could use a good girl to hook up with.”

Elektra laughs. “I’m sure she could, but no, neither of them.”

Foggy frowns, obviously thinking hard for possibilities. “That new guy from the Sprint store? Raina?”

“They’re both lovely, but no.”

“We’re running out of people,” says Matt with a laugh. “Those guys from Kohl’s, either one of them?”

“ _Loki_?” Foggy yelps.

“I’ve had more than my fill of his type,” replies Elektra. “No.”

They’re all puzzling over who else could be left, Elektra watching smugly all the while, when Vanessa saunters over and kisses Elektra on the mouth. “There you are,” she croons. “I got some wine.” She produces two glasses from seemingly nowhere and hands one to Elektra, smirking all the while.

“Thank you,” hums Elektra, leaning against her.

Everyone else looks varyingly astonished - except Akela, who is nodding approvingly. Foggy sputters a bit and finally just says “What?”

“Hi, Vanessa,” Matt says, trying to keep the confusion out of his voice. “Nice to...see you.”

“Hello, Matthew,” Vanessa murmurs. “Foggy, girls. We haven’t missed anything _fun_ , have we?”

“Uh,” Kara says, startled. “Not really? I sort of learned how to play pool.”

“And basically told Tony to fuck off, it was awesome,” Kara adds, grinning.

Elektra grins too. “Well done, Kara,” she says, nodding in approval.

“He was being really weird,” Kara says dismissively. “It was either that or listen to him go on for another ten minutes.”

Akela snorts. “He’s getting desperate.”

“Delightful,” Elektra says, rolling her eyes.

Just then Rhodey comes over, waving. “Hey!”

“Hey!” Kara exclaims, leaning in to give him a hug. “Congratulations.”

“For what, surviving Nazis?” He laughs. “Wasn’t that bad. I got a throat punch in, it was pretty awesome.”

“Something like that,” Kara says. “That’s pretty badass.”

“Yeah. I brought some leftover candy too.” He holds up a giant baggie of it. “I mean, Tony got to it first, but there’s still plenty in there.”

“What kinds?” Karen asks. “Because I admit I’m kinda feeling like eating a lollipop in front of Tony just to fuck with him. Sorry.”

Rhodey laughs. “I think there might still be some Tootsie Pops in there? And like, some M&M packs, Skittles, mini candy bars, I dunno. You’re welcome to dig around.”

“Can we dump it on the pool table?” Kara suggests.

“Sure.” Rhodey arranges the pool cues so it creates a small barrier for the candy and then spills the bag onto the table.

“Oh, here’s a couple of Three Musketeers, Matt,” Foggy says, handing them to him before grabbing a random handful of candy for himself.

Matt smiles. “Thanks, Fog.”

Akela carefully selects two packs of Starburst and three Kit Kats before stepping back.

“Would you like any?” Elektra asks Vanessa.

“You’re plenty delicious,” Vanessa says. It’s not a proper answer, but it’s funny.

Elektra smirks, Matt snorts, Foggy looks scandalized once again, and Karen (unwrapping a successfully-located red Tootsie Pop) deadpans, “But candy’s probably safer to eat in public.”

Vanessa laughs loudly. “Have you always been so hilarious?”

“I mean, I’d like to think so,” Karen replies easily.

Rhodey raises an eyebrow at Kara. “Is that new?” he murmurs, nodding at Vanessa and Elektra.

“Very,” Kara says. “Like as of tonight new.”

“Huh.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky asks quietly once they’re on the front porch.

“What’s going on?” Steve murmurs, concerned.

“It’s nothing, it’s...could we find a quiet room or something once we get inside and just hang out in there for a bit?” Bucky looks a little embarrassed. “It’s, y’know.”

“Of course,” Steve says, a little too loud. “Is there anything else you need, or just…”

“I wouldn’t say no to food.” Bucky grins, though he seems tired. “Punching Nazis really takes it out of you.”

“We could go find something,” Sharon chimes in earnestly.

“Would that be okay?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “Go on, we’ll be right behind you.”

As soon as they’re in, Steve gets Tony’s attention, who comes over with a slightly puzzled look. “Hey, Rogers,” he says, brow furrowed. “I’m guessing this isn’t an invitation to dance?”

Steve shakes his head. “We’re going to go find some quiet for a little while,” he says. “Don’t bother us unless it’s necessary, all right?”

Tony’s expression softens just a bit. “Yeah, no worries. Any room you want, they’re pretty much all free.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, all business. “C’mon, Buck. let’s go find someplace.”

Bucky sticks close to him until they find a door that’s far enough away from most of the noise. “This good?” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah, sure.” They head inside and Bucky collapses on the giant (but immaculately made) bed. “Sorry, it’s just...been a long night.”

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Hope V. calls from across the room, where she and Pam are currently snuggling. She seems amused, not bothered, which is good. Keeps this a little more even. “Let’s rejoin the masses, princess.”

“I’m game,” Pam agrees with a smile, and they stroll out, politely avoiding the boys.

“Popular spot,” Steve jokes, aiming for silly.

Bucky chuckles and pats the bed next to him. “Good thing you’re so persuasive, or whatever.”

“I don’t know what I’d call it,” Steve says, laying down and gently draping an arm over Bucky’s waist. “But it’s working, so that’s what’s important.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nestles against him. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Steve hums, rolling up the wing/sleeve of his outfit a bit. “It okay if I rub your back a little?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” As soon as he feels Steve’s hand on his back, Bucky sighs contentedly.

“I’m sorry all this shit keeps happening,” Steve says plainly. “We don’t need to get into any more details if you don’t want, but I still… I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault,” murmurs Bucky, who sounds calmer already. “But thanks. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve promises. “Sort of wish we could tell those guys off once and for all, but I’m fine.”

Bucky laughs. “‘Course you do. If you had your way, we’d barge into their hideout guns blazing.”

“We’ve already done that,” Steve points out, smirking.

“True, but you know what I mean. You just liked having an excuse,” teases Bucky.

“Well, they deserve it,” Steve shrugs. “After everything they’ve done.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing. I just think it’s cute that you want to take them on.” Bucky snorts. “Y’know. Cute in that sometimes I wanna strangle you for putting yourself in danger.”

“Someone has to do it,” Steve says. “It’s important.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bucky reaches out to run his fingers along Steve’s thigh. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s forehead (or at least, through the fabric of the hood on his bear costume).

Shortly after that, someone taps on the door gently and Natasha pokes her head in. “Oh, good,” she says. “We were kinda just tapping on every door we found. Luckily, it’s too early in the night for anybody to be using these rooms for sex,” she adds with a smirk.

“You guys doing okay?” Sam asks, who’s right behind her. “There wasn’t like, much, but we brought some fruit and chips and stuff.” He nods at the two paper bowls, precariously nestled in one of the wings of his bird onesie.

“Thanks, guys,” Bucky says, sitting up and waving. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sharon says. “You’re good. There’s not much going on out there yet, anyway.”

“Yeah, turns out we’re not the only ones who went for the furry option this year,” jokes Natasha, adjusting the gold unicorn horn on her head. “There are a ton of animals out there.”

“Hey, it’s easy,” Sharon shrugs, tugging her giraffe outfit down. “Don’t look to be too many doubles, at least.”

Sam nods. “And hey, ours all fit.” He grins slyly at Steve. “Especially _yours._ ”

“I’m choosing to be flattered by that,” Steve replies loftily (his animal is, of course, a bald eagle).

Natasha comes over to sit down at the foot of the bed. “Got room for a few more?” she asks playfully.

“Nope. My bed now. Fuck off.” Bucky spreads out as much as he can, grinning.

Which means, of course, Natasha just moves one of his arms and rolls under it before he can react. “Nice try,” she says with a wink.

“Dammit. Alright, alright,” says Bucky, rolling over so he’s nestled against Steve (who’s still sitting up) while spooning her. “I _guess_ the rest of you can come too.”

Sam flops down on his other side. “Oh damn, this is a nice bed. Rich people have good taste.”

Sharon snuggles in, too, laughing. “One of the advantages of this party being _here_.”

 

* * *

 

“Twenty nine, thirty, thirty one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty f…”

There’s a series of groans as Tony dismounts the keg stand (mostly just from Rhodey, but also Darcy who has been filming the whole affair). “Not bad, not bad,” he says, once he’s recovered. “Thirty three and a half, was it?”

“We’re not counting half-seconds,” says Maria, rolling her eyes. “Thirty three.”

“Still.” Tony shrugs. “I believe I beat yours, Thor?”

Thor grins good-naturedly and whaps Tony on the back, nearly sending him flying. “I gladly concede this victory, but I think you may have a formidable opponent in Drax.”

Drax steps forward, looking eager. “I am more than ready!”

Tony gestures to the keg. “All yours.”

“Thank you.” Drax grabs his hand and pumps it enthusiastically, before climbing onto the keg with help from Volstagg and Hogun. Once he’s settled, they begin counting.

“One, two, three, four…”

“Well, this is very fraternityesque,” Maya comments, raising her eyebrows.

Maria snorts. “Yeah, sorry. I’m so used to it I don’t even think about how dumb it is.”

“Don’t apologize,” Maya laughs. “This is just… really something to see.”

Maria squeezes her hand. “Thanks for putting up with it. Mostly I just like watching Tony act like an idiot.”

“You don’t need a kegstand to do that,” Maya points out, smirking.

“True, but if he’s going to do it anyway, I might as well watch.”

“Have they ever roped you into one of these?” Melinda asks Sif. They’re sitting nearby, only half-watching.

Sif tosses her head. “I plead the fifth,” she replies, grinning.

“Well, that means yes,” replies Melinda, reaching over to run her hand through Sif’s hair fondly. “How many times?”

“Not many. Most of them were afraid of me, they knew I could drink them under the table.”

“...thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine, forty!”

Drax pumps his arms triumphantly after getting down. “Will anyone challenge me?” he calls.

“Hey, Sif!” Fandral says. “How long’s it been since you did one of these?”

“Not long enough,” she says, rolling her eyes and smirking. “Or are you still sore I beat you all those years ago?”

“Oh, come now!” coaxes Volstagg. “Surely you can beat Thor’s measly twenty five seconds!”

Thor snorts. “I choose not to be offended by that.”

Darcy rearranges her phone so it’s point at herself as she shouts “Do it!!”

“Do it, do it, do it!” Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, and Thor join in.

“Alright, alright,” says Sif, rolling her eyes again as she gets up and walks over to the keg stand.

Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky and the others have finally decided to rejoin the party, and what they walk in on is Sif doing her keg stand while onlookers chant, “...thirty seven, thirty eight…”

“Holy shit,” says Sam. “Did we dimension-hop into my college years?”

“...forty four, forty five, forty six, forty seven, forty eight…”

Sif tips off the keg onto Volstagg, who helps her right herself, and bows when there’s a burst of applause. “Well,” she says, drawing out the word. “Guess I’ve still got it.” Then she makes her way over to Melinda, only wobbling a little, and sits on her lap, looking smug.

“Well done, I think,” says Melinda with a chuckle, wrapping her arms around Sif’s waist.

Looking a bit awed, Drax says, “You have indeed won the night!”

“She does that,” Thor says, grinning proudly.

 

* * *

 

“So I _think_ the bathroom is this way,” Darcy says, shrugging cheerfully. “Or one of the bathrooms. Wouldn’t it be weird if a house this big only had one bathroom? That would probably be illegal or something. But the one I remember is down here, I think.”

Hope S. grins, although with a bit of nervous energy. This is what she’s learned from living with Darcy: any event with her can be an adventure, which is usually a good thing. “Have you been here a lot of times?” she asks.

“Literally just for Halloween and Ace’s movie premiere,” Darcy says. “But this is Halloween #3 here, so I’m not entirely unfamiliar.” She smirks. “The first year I took over the stereo, which definitely kicked ass. I’m pretty sure we all broke Tony’s brain doing the Time Warp.”

“He’d really never seen that before?” Hope exclaims. “I can’t believe that. I mean, _I’ve_ seen that movie. Like ten times. I thought everyone had.”

“Me too,” Darcy shrugs. “But I guess some people’s cultural educations are lacking. Anyway.’ She nods to a door in front of them. “I’m like, ninety-five percent sure it’s that one.”

Hope nods and goes to open the door, but the second she does she yelps. Fury and Irani are seated on the couch, having previously been kissing but now both glaring. “Do you mind?” Irani asks.

“We don’t go barging in on _your_ private lives,” says Fury.

“I’m so sorry!” Hope squeaks, fluttering her hands in front of her face.

“It’s definitely my bad,” Darcy calls, getting close enough they can see her. This doesn’t entirely help, since she’s grinning. “We were just looking for a bathroom. I got confused about which way to point her, apparently.”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Hope repeats.

“I believe it’s a few doors down,” Irani says. “Would you mind passing along that this room’s occupied for the time being?”

“Of course,” Darcy coos, waving as she tugs Hope away.

“Holy shit!” Hope says, her voice probably the highest-pitched it’s ever been.

“I know, right,” Darcy laughs, giving a slightly evil smile. “C’mon, let’s find the real bathroom and then we can start spreading the word.”

This means that as soon as they’re back in the main room, Darcy full-on _runs_ over to where most of the keg stand participants and audience are still lingering. “Guys!” she exclaims. “Fury and Irani are definitely making out in the other room!”

“...I don’t think that’s what Irani meant,” Hope sighs, shaking her head.

But it’s Darcy, and Darcy cannot be deterred. Next she zips over to the Knowhere crowd, repeating herself in a rush. “Fury and Irani are getting busy and oh my god you should have seen their faces.”

Rogue starts giggling. “I mean, long as they’re havin’ fun I guess that makes sense.”

“Where, so I can avoid it at all costs,” snarks Nebula.

Quill looks as if he’s processing that people over the age of 40 still have sex, which means Gamora has to roll her eyes. “You’re actually surprised about this?” she mutters.

“Anyway they’re in one of the rooms down the hall, which is what I’m probably supposed to be telling you,” Darcy adds blithely.

“Wait, who’s in one of the rooms down the hall?” asks Tegan, coming over with a beer in hand. “I mean, I know people have been in most of the rooms probably.”

“Oh, Fury and Irani,” Darcy chirps. “They’re making out.”

“Why did you need to tell me that!” Tegan exclaims. “I really, really didn’t need to hear that.”

“I’m not sure anyone did,” Hope mumbles sheepishly.

“Jesus Christ,” sighs Maria. “Well, work tomorrow’ll be a blast.”

“I’m gonna go see who else I can tell,” Darcy declares, running off.


	117. nothing left of expectations, just you and me: impulsive creations with an alibi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of Tony's Halloween party: Darcy does her annual absurd costume contest (where everyone wins but some people win more) and Howard appears.

“Welcome, welcome!” Darcy yells, spreading her arms wide and gesturing to the group, who are sitting down (mostly) calmly. “It’s time for the second annual _everyone gets a fucking prize_ costume contest! Hosted and judged almost exclusively by _moi!_ ”

Ian starts applauding, which is hysterically nonsensical.

“I’m not sure how much of a contest this is if we _all_ get a prize,” Tony says with a wry smirk.

“Depending on your interpretations of the awards, some people might still be winners more than others,” Darcy replies cheerfully. “For our very first award of the night, I present the ‘is that really even a costume?’ award to Rosalind and Coulson, the lady and her butler.”

Rosalind (who in fact is wearing a slightly more formal version of her everyday power skirt combo) stands, smirking, and actually claps twice to remind Coulson to join her. “It really isn’t,” she hums, coming to fetch the certificate. Coulson looks a little sheepish, almost blushing.

“And somewhat on that note, I’ve got a Least Surprising (and Most Adorable) for big Hope and Pam, playing some of the most famous gal pals in television history,” Darcy announces, grinning. Neither Hope nor Pam intend to make a fuss, but Hope does very obviously lead Pam up and show her off a bit.

Tony leans over to Pepper and mutters, “Gal pals?”

Pepper smirks. “I’ll explain when you’re older.”

“Our low-effort passel of critters is up next, with Most Adorably Coordinated,” Darcy grins, fanning out five certificates and waving them in the air.

“A passel, huh?” Sharon asks.

“We are adorable,” Sam says with a grin, ambling up to take his paper.

“Damn right.” Natasha tosses her head, making the yarn mane shake.

Darcy smiles, daring to reach out and pet Natasha just once. “Our straightforward Best Couple’s Costume award goes to Jessica and Luke,” she continues, grinning.

Jessica snorts. “I mean, can’t go wrong with Jack Daniels and Coke,” she says, gesturing to her black Jack Daniels logo shirt and Luke’s corresponding red Coca Cola shirt.

Luke rolls his eyes. “At least I didn’t have to wear a real costume,” he says.

“It suits you guys,” Darcy promises, grinning. “Somewhat on a similar note, grown-up Laura and less-a-grown-up Clint are up next, for Most Adorable Visual Pun,” she announces. The two of them are wearing half of a box each, representing Nerds candy, and they’re standing in the back of the room because it’s hard to sit with a box on.

“Admittedly, it was the internet’s idea,” Laura says brightly as they make their way forward, “but it was totally worth it.”

“Who doesn’t love Nerds?” Clint asks.

“I assume that’s rhetorical,” Darcy quips. “Next, Best Twin Costume for the Koenigs!”

“Oh, we’re not twins,” says Eric as the pair (dressed as Thing One and Thing Two) walk up. “Just brothers.”

Darcy looks baffled for a second, but quickly withdraws a Sharpie from her bra and changes the award to read “Best Identical Brothers Costume.” “That better?”

“Yup!” says Billy cheerfully. “Thanks!” They both do the Vulcan Salute as they leave.

“O-o-okay then!” Darcy exclaims, trying to shake off whatever weird she’s feeling. “Although I could have said something about you clearly halfway recycled, I present Most Childhood Affirming to Thor and Jane, with an aside that it’s a good thing they’re lions otherwise it’d be weird if you cosplayed as African royalty or whatever.”

Jane, in her own fuzzy lion outfit this year, declares, “You’re kinda ridiculous.”

Thor laughs. “She raises a fair point. Simba and Nala are good characters and I found last year’s outfit easy to repurpose.”

Darcy salutes. “Also on the Disney note, Most Charming Genderswap to smaller Laura and Cessily!”

Cessily giggles, tugging Laura up. They’re dressed as Buzz and Woody and Laura looks mildly confused. “I’ve never seen these movies,” she explains, “but Cessily is going to show them to me tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” murmurs Cessily, squeezing her hand.

Darcy grins sort of goofily, but she’s not going to say anything to ruin the mood. “Now, these next few go together. First we have Mike, with Best Dad.”

Mike, who’s got a fluffy pink lion’s mane and a pink fuzzy onesie on, grins. “Thank you, thank you,” he says with a playful bow. “I don’t know that Ace is ever gonna take off that Steven shirt.”

“Stay up here a bit,” Darcy encourages. “And following that, Gamora gets Best Girlfriend (And Also Girlfriends, Because Lesbians).”

Gamora, dressed as Garnet and not looking entirely comfortable with the prospect, stands up and heads for the front. “It made sense,” she says with a shrug.

“And finally, looking hilarious with each other’s colors on, Nebula and Carina get Best Actual Girlfriends!” Darcy announces. She actually applauds once the whole bunch is in place.

Nebula snorts. “Her idea,” she says, nodding at Carina. “Mostly.”

“Well, since these two were… and then since Ruby and Sapphire, you know,” Carina blusters. “It works out.”

Mike grins. “I think it’s great. You three put in way more effort than me, though. Don’t they look great?”

Gamora actually blushes a tiny bit, and Carina blushes a lot, which means Nebula grabs her hand and looks almost proud. “Thanks,” she says, with something like a smile.

“And Best Actually Canon Ship (Fight Me), which is highly similar, goes to Victoria and Isabelle!” Darcy announces. “I mean, I definitely thought Daphne and Velma had a little something something going on on the side. Like, who needs that Fred guy?”

Victoria laughs. “The 1970s and heteronormative America needed that Fred guy, unfortunately,” she says, tossing her red wig. “But it’s nice to know that’s changed.”

“Definitely,” says Isabelle, adjusting her oversize novelty glasses. “They almost let Velma have a girlfriend in the last animated series!”

Darcy nods approvingly as she hands them their certificates. “We’re heading into the queerest part of our evening, friends,” she says in an announcer voice. “Next up, Trip and Fitz with Best Fandom Compromise!”

It’s easy to see them coming, because Fitz is wearing a neon orange and white flight suit and Trip is wearing commander’s gold. “He won’t agree that _Trek_ is better, so we did the best we could,” says Trip with a grin.

Fitz snickers. “I could beat your ship in a race,” he teases.

“Oh, I know it,” says Trip good-naturedly. “Slow and steady, baby.”

“Oh my god you guys are disgusting, I love it,” Darcy crows. “Similarly, with a side of extra queer ‘cause why not, Best Memes for Skye and Jemma. Explain it, you guys.”

They look sort of like Hot Topic threw up on them. Skye grins and gestures to the bright purple streaks in her hair, the overexaggerated eyeshadow, and the corset and fishnet stockings she’s wearing. “So there was this really, really bad _Harry Potter_ fanfic called _My Immortal,_ like infamously bad. Basically incomprehensible. The author made up her own character called Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way, and she’s dating Draco and she’s super emo and ridiculous and it’s so bad. Anyway, so I’m her.”

“And since the author wrote that Ebony is bisexual, we’re extrapolating,” Jemma adds, grinning. Her own outfit is similarly dark and leather-covered, though it also contains a very 90s plaid skirt. “I’m B’loody Mary Smith, alias Hermione Granger, who somewhere along the line discovered she was an adopted vampire and Gothed herself out accordingly, so hard she somehow switched houses and became a Slytherin.”

Tony blinks. “Your costumes always require way too much backstory,” he says.

Skye shrugs. “But they’re awesome!”

“Oh, look, an example of exactly what the next group of costumes does! Karen, Kara, Elektra, Akela and Rhodey are given the grand prize award of Most Likely to Make Manbabies Cry!” Darcy exclaims with a shit-eating grin.

“C’mon,” Karen says, nudging Kara. “Told you we were going to win.”

“It’s not even an ordered contest,” Kara protests, but she’s laughing, clearly pleased.

Elektra raises an eyebrow at them, but says nothing. Akela looks smug.

“I can honestly say making manbabies cry wasn’t our goal, but we’re glad to achieve it,” Karen announces smugly.

“Wasn’t our _only_ goal,” adds Elektra, winking.

“I’m just here to be the eye candy,” chuckles Rhodey.

“You’re very good at it,” Kara promises.

“Stay up here for a sec,” Darcy says, getting their certificates passed around. “Since you’re coordinated with our next couple groups, too. Matt, Claire, and Foggy have our award for Most Spoopy.”

Matt laughs. “I’ll take your word for it,” he says. He’s dressed as one of the pilgrim ghosts from _Ghostbusters_ , and Foggy’s next to him as the inmate ghost.

Claire, as Gertrude Aldridge, snorts. “We all look awesome,” she says.

“Not as easy as you’d think, pulling off a ghost costume,” Darcy says. “Which brings us to… Seriously, Are You Actually Ghosts? Raina and Lorelei, this one is yours.”

They’re both wearing what appears to be elegant lingerie from the 1800s in “ghostly” shades of mostly gray and white, and looking incredibly smug. “Yes, we’re ghosts,” Raina agrees, looking out into the crowd and (for reasons unknown to most) winking at Clint. “My name is Taffeta, and I died of cholera.”

“My name is Delilah and I was murdered by a gold miner,” Lorelei adds. “See my bullet wound?” A reasonable approximation of one is makeupped just above her left tit.

“Well, that’s… something,” Darcy says. She does give them both a once-over, because she knows they won’t mind and they do look damn good, before continuing. “Most Fitting for vampire Vanessa.”

Vanessa happens to come up just as the large group is sitting down, and she very obviously grabs Elektra’s ass as they pass, smirking. “Much obliged,” she croons.

“Most Adorably Sexy is Linnea,” Darcy continues. Linnea, a sexy butterfly, accepts her award with no words but a kiss blown out into the crowd (Fandral thinks it’s for him, which it isn’t). “And Best Ironic Costume is for Christine!”

Christine, wearing a storebought “sexy” orange slice and orange tights, struts up and strikes a pose. “I basically found the most ridiculous costume that was on sale.”

“And you succeeded,” Darcy promises. “As did I. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but… Appreciate My Genius.” She does a little twirl.

“Uh,” says Tony. “I’d love to, since I am a certified genius, but I also hate feeling like I don’t get the joke, which I kinda do at the moment.”

Pepper rolls her eyes fondly. “She’s a bit character from _Game of Thrones_.”

“In the season finale, Grand Maester Pycelle was visiting a whore, and she asked him for money and he blew her off, and then he left the room and got murdered,” Darcy explains brightly. “I mean, I’m said whore after she got dressed, but since now we’ll never know if she got her money I decided to give her some attention.”

“Alright,” says Tony, still looking a bit puzzled. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen you wearing.”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “And your award, Mr. Stark, is Most Likely to Make Anyone Cry.”

“I’m offended,” grumbles Tony. “It’s grrrrrreat!”

“We’re also looking at you wearing a red scarf and a bodysuit,” Darcy points out. “I’m not gonna say why they’re crying, that’s their business, but.” She shrugs cheerfully. “Fandral the _sexy_ Ghostbuster gets Best Use of Halloween Hypocrisy.”

“I’m not a hypocrite!” protest Fandral, pouting (in what he thinks is a sexy way but that mostly just looks ridiculous).

“No, you’re not,” Darcy says. “I just mean like, costume websites and shit.”

“Alright, I suppose,” he says, taking the paper.

“To Peter Quill, I award Good Tribute,” Darcy announces.

“Thanks!” Quill says, dancing his way up (his Bowie outfit is perfectly serviceable).

“And to one Ms. Tegan Piper, I award Best Tribute,” Darcy continues with a grin.

Tegan, who’s got an incredible ice blue jumpsuit in addition to her Ziggy Stardust makeup and hair, beams. “Why thank you,” she says, giving a little bow.

“And Bereet gets this year’s Prettiest Princess,” Darcy announces.

Bereet, complete with ballgown and voluminous brunette wig, is Sarah from _Labyrinth_ , which explains why she’s being awarded after the two Bowies. “Even if she’s not technically a princess, I’ll take that,” she says good-naturedly.

“Good,” Darcy says. “And as another princess, this one of the moon… Bobbi gets Best Use of Childhood Hero.”

“One of these years we’re all going to do this at the same time,” Bobbi teases. She, rather unsurprisingly, is a Silver Millennium-era Princess Serenity, and she keeps blowing her wig’s bangs out of her eyes.

Darcy nods approvingly. “On the subject of blondes with pigtails, Trish gets Best Use of Spite,” she continues. “Care to explain?”

Trish nods, leaning on her baseball bat. “I felt that it was important to give the world a live-action Harley Quinn with neither booty shorts nor degrading typography,” she explains. “I designed it with the cartoon and video game in mind, but also with the knowledge that this outfit was presumably supplied to her by an outside party who expected her to kick ass in it and not just look like cheesecake art.”

“But I mean, she looks hot anyway, right?” Jessica asks smugly.

“Up to you to decide,” Trish replies breezily.

“And now for the dude whose name I now know is Happy, Most Charming Villain,” Darcy says.

“Thanks,” he says, tipping his top hat. “It’s the animated series Penguin costume, mostly.” He adjusts his purple bowtie.

“Not from the animated, but still kicking ass is our Best Superhero, Elena,” Darcy chirps.

Elena, who’s rocking a Batwoman costume, looks proud as she goes up to get her award, while Quill nudges Gamora. “Isn’t hers the _only_ superhero costume?”

Carina leans forward, looking solemn. “Best and only aren’t mutually exclusive,” she says.

“Most Appropriate Gaming Avatar belongs to Pietro the hedgehog,” Darcy announces.

Pietro zips up to grab it. “He’s my favorite,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I can see why,” Darcy nods. “Hogun gets Most Ridiculous Amount of Effort.”

Hogun’s wearing the armor from _Halo_ , which was almost definitely not intended for just this party. “I was going to build this anyway,” he says with a shrug.

“It’s super cool, though,” Darcy assures him. “Loki gets Most Fitting.”

“I’m glad someone sees the similarities,” Loki says, though his voice is muffled through the Kylo Ren mask. He strikes what he thinks is a cool pose with his lightsaber.

Darcy tries not to laugh. “Yeah, something like that,” she says. Most everyone in the audience understands that this is not the compliment he’s taken it as. “Anyway! For Mack, we have Yay Hamlet!”

Mack snorts. “Well played. Don’t worry, I promise no six-hour speeches.”

“The world thanks you,” Darcy declares. “Audrey gets Most Adorable Detailing.”

As Audrey, who’s dressed as Audrey Hepburn and carrying a plush deer, goes to take her certificate, Sharon smirks and muses, “I’m surprised Bobbi didn’t dress as a deer.”

“Unlike the rest of you, I’m not a furry,” Bobbi replies blithely.

“Dearest Rogue gets Best 00s Tribute,” Darcy continues, blowing a kiss.

Rogue winks at her. She’s wearing a black bustier with a red skirt and black crinoline, and looking appropriately emo. “Payin’ tribute to my teenage self, I guess,” she jokes. “I sure loved me some Evanescence.”

Darcy grins. “Best Obscure Awesome Movie goes to MJ,” she announces.

MJ saunters up in her cheerleading uniform, turning around so everyone sees the fake blood smeared on her face and down her front. “ _Jennifer’s Body,_ ” she explains. “She’s a succubus.”

“I award Most Appropriate Use of a Classic Television Character to Maria, as apparently minimalist Wednesday Addams,” Darcy smirks.

“Thanks very much,” says Maria, remaining appropriately straight-faced as she gets hers.

“And even though I knew this was coming because I’ve seen it put together all month, I’m giving Most Adorably Nostalgic to little Hope,” Darcy says.

“Thanks, I think?” Hope replies, chuckling.

“Care to explain?” Hunter asks, tilting his head.

“Oh, uh, there were these dolls when I was growing up that were historical, American Girl dolls, and this is an outfit the Swedish immigrant from the 180ss wore,” Hope says, blushing.

“Melinda gets this year’s Best Recycling,” Darcy says, nodding approvingly. Melinda came in the beat-up Furiosa costume she wore to _Fury Road_. Melinda nods her thanks.

Irani is awarded “why did you leave early when you put so much effort into that gorgeous outfit,” which Karen takes for her with an embarrassed shrug. Irani and Fury almost certainly left early because Darcy and Hope walked in on them, but she’s not going to say that.

From there, awards are given to Ian (Best Use of Prop, as per the axe somehow fastened to his head so he can pass for Bifur from _The Hobbit_ ), Volstagg (Most Jolly, in his customary Santa outfit), Malcolm (Best Ironic Use of Upbringing, as he came as an angel), and Heimdall (Most Weirdly Intimidating, as a wizard). It’s going fairly smooth until Hunter, as some sort of cowboy, gets the award for “Most Unbelievable.”

“I think I’m offended,” says Hunter, but he takes the award anyway, giving Darcy a suspicious look.

Then T’Challa, in a better cowboy outfit, gets Fanciest Hat.

He laughs and tips it at her. “I’m flattered.”

After that it’s more smooth sailing for a while. Awards go to Sif (Best Cultural Costume, for her Viking outfit), Drax (Best Minimal Effort, considering he came as an MMA fighter and basically is one anyway), Pepper (Most Charmingly Simple, with her classic witch costume), and Bruce (Best Traditional Dork, with his classic pirate costume).

“Most Adorably Wholesome is for Hannah,” Darcy announces. “Who is the most innocent cat I’ve ever seen on Halloween.”

“Thank you?” Hannah giggles.

“Best Use of Adorable Pajamas is for Joey,” Darcy says.

Joey grins and shrugs. “I mean, I already had this, and I guess I picked the right year for it.” It’s a onesie with a dog’s head hoodie.

“Helen gets Best Inspiration From Day Job,” Darcy declares.

“I’m a DNA strand,” Helen explains to the audience, smirking. It’s not the most apparent costume if you don’t get the joke.

“And almost as if you planned to match, in terms of weird biology stuff, Wanda gets Most Accurate Costume for her rendering of a brain cell,” Darcy chuckles.

Wanda giggles. “Thank you, I tried! It’s important to be accurate.”

“Maya gets Least Effort (Hilariously),” Darcy proclaims, laughing. Maya’s wearing a t-shirt that reads “Error 404: Costume Not Found.”

“I see,” Maria murmurs playfully, “the fancy costume was just to impress me.”

“What can I say,” Maya shrugs cheerfully.

“And finally, Fury gets Cleverest Lack of Effort,” Darcy says with a triumphant grin.

“He looked like he was just wearing his regular clothes,” says Hope, frowning.

“He was an undercover spy,” Darcy explains.

Coulson, looking deeply embarrassed, comes up to claim Fury’s award. “I guess I’ll, um, give this to him next time I see him,” he says, looking as if he would really rather not.

“Congratulations, everyone!” Darcy yells, gesturing grandly. “You’re all winners but some of you more than others. With that rousing speech, I turn the party back over to our host.”

Tony snorts. “Alright, hooligans, disperse! Have fun. Don’t break anything, we already did that last time.”

 

* * *

 

Kara and Karen have been sitting at the bar for probably fifteen minutes, just drinking and giggling, but it figures that would get interrupted, and spectacularly.

“Hey there,” says a male voice, which happens to belong to one Howard Stark. “You two are looking lovely tonight.”

Kara flinches, which makes Karen flinch sympathetically. “Yeah, it’s a night for that,” Karen says warily, reaching for Kara’s hand.

“I see you’re dressed as Ghostbusters,” he continues. “That was a pretty good movie. You ever seen the original?”

“Yeah,” Karen says. “Watched it with Foggy once. It was okay.”

“Oh, who’s Foggy?” he asks, almost too casual. “Brother, boyfriend…?”

“Roommate,” Karen says. “Friend who is a boy.”

“Interesting. A girl as pretty as you, if I were your boyfriend and I knew you lived with a guy I’d be concerned.”

“Aren’t you Tony’s… dad?” Kara asks icily, turning to glare at him.

Howard shrugs. “Isn’t age just a number? Some women like older men.”

“Oh, I was just thinking I could really see the family resemblance,” Kara mutters.

“Everything alright over here?” Elektra says, sidling up and looking warily at Howard.

“Just some unexpected attention,” Karen replies, falsely bright.

“Oh?” Elektra takes a sip of her drink and raises her eyebrow.

Howard grins. “We’re just talking. And who might _you_ be?”

“Elektra,” she says, smirking. “You?”

“I’m Howard. This is my house, actually.”

“Oh, so _you_ are Tony’s father,” Elektra says. “I’ve heard...so much about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?”

“Many things,” she replies.

He laughs. “So, Elektra, are you friends with those two?” He nods at Kara and Karen.

“Oh yes,” she says. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m wondering if maybe you can convince them to join me upstairs for a little fun. You’re welcome too, of course.”

“Well, I have only one response to that,” she purrs, and leans forward as if she’s going to kiss him before tossing her drink in his face. While he splutters, she rolls her eyes. “None of us are interested, Mr. Stark. I suggest you leave us before I take the opportunity to show you what I have hidden under my jumpsuit. I suspect it’s sharper and more dangerous than what you’d enjoy.”

He hurries away without another word.

“Are you both alright?” she asks, turning back to Karen and Kara. “I assume you approve of that.”

“We’re fine,” Karen says. “Thanks, though.”

“I’m not sure what it is about parties that makes those types swarm,” Kara mutters.

“Because they think they can get away with it,” Vanessa drawls, strolling up. “Saw the whole thing. I must say it was very… noble of you, Elektra.” She says this suggestively, of course.

“Oh?” Elektra preens. “Thank you. Is it worth a reward, perhaps?” She drops her voice at the last bit, so that only Vanessa can hear.

“Perhaps,” Vanessa hums. “Why don’t we go and see?”

Elektra takes her hand and follows her out of the room, head high.


	118. and when the lights go out and I'm all alone, I've got no reason to be crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of Tony's Halloween party. Things are mostly quiet and everyone seems to be in an okay place.

Christine’s dancing quite contentedly by herself - she saw Vanessa earlier but the other woman seemed, well, busy, and good for her - when she feels someone sidle up behind her. A male voice murmurs, “Well, aren’t _you_ a vision.”

She barely manages to stifle her groan and turns around to see who it is. Then she almost does a double take. “Mr. _Stark_?” she asks, incredulous. She’s met him very briefly, once, and listened to way too many stories from Tony about his shitty parenting. She’s not sure what the hell he’s doing hitting on _her_.

“The one and only,” he says with a grin. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

“Yes, actually,” she says flatly. “Tony and I were involved for a little while. I was over here sometimes for a few months.”

“Oh!” Howard doesn’t miss a beat. “He has good taste, that boy. I don’t suppose I can interest you in the original model?”

“Gonna have to pass,” she says, rolling her eyes.

As if he’s Beetlejuice or some shit, Tony suddenly appears, frowning. “Uh, Dad, what are you doing?”

Howard shrugs. “Getting to know some of your friends. They’re interesting people.”

“You’re not _getting to know them_ , you’re hitting on them,” snaps Tony, “and the last thing I need is my dad scaring off my guests-”

“I’m not scaring them off-”

“You _are_ , she’s like half your age, Dad-”

“Some women like more experienced men-”

Christine coughs loudly. “I’m literally standing _right here._ ” When they stop talking over each other to look at her, she adds, “Yes, Mr. Stark, you _are_ making me uncomfortable, and no, Tony, I didn’t need your help to get him to leave me alone. Now I’m going to go get a drink, and neither of you are going to follow me.” She stalks away before they can respond.

Tony and Howard blink at each other for a moment, then finally Howard says, “Can’t see why you let that one go. She’s a spitfire.”

 

* * *

 

Elena is perched on a chair, waiting for Joey and Drax to return from the snack table, when a dark-haired man wearing a smoking jacket comes over to her. “Hey there,” he says with a winning smile. “Someone so gorgeous as yourself shouldn’t be left all alone.”

Elena blinks. “Thank you?” she asks warily.

He waves as if brushing her thanks away and sits down next to her. “That costume really flatters you, are you Batlady or something?”

“Batwoman,” she says, rolling her eyes just slightly. Then she adds pointedly, “Who is a lesbian.” She isn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He pouts just slightly. “Don’t tell me you are too.”

“What was your name again?” Elena asks, wondering where the hell the other two are.

“I’m Howard, and you?” He scoots the chair a little closer.

“Elena,” she says, reluctantly, trying to slide the chair away.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Where’s that accent from, hm?”

“I’m really not interested in having this conversation,” Elena says pointedly.

“Aw, c’mon…”

He reaches for her arm, and Elena instinctively elbows him. Luckily, her glove has a series of spikes on it that - they aren’t sharp enough to _wound_ , but they make Howard yelp and almost fall off his chair when she hits him with them. “I would appreciate it if you would leave,” she says darkly.

Apparently, that’s enough to convince him to leave.

“Damn,” says Joey, coming over with a grin on his face. “You showed him, huh?”

Elena snorts. “I suppose I did. You missed his attempts at being charming.”

Drax is grinning too, and he offers her the bowl of chips he’s holding. “Well done!” he says, giving Elena an affectionate (though gentle) slap on the arm. “You should be proud!”

Tossing her head, Elena grabs a handful of chips. “I am,” she says smugly.

 

* * *

 

Maybe it’s the idea that lightning won’t strike twice that leads to Karen and Kara staying at the bar awhile longer, sipping their drinks mostly in quiet (or as quiet as it can be in any room at Tony Stark’s house where there’s bad dance music playing and dozens of people swarming around). But after enough of that, and knowing Kara, Karen starts to worry. Very gently she squeezes Kara’s hand and murmurs, “You okay?”

Kara startles, like she wasn’t expecting the question (or any question). “Hm?”

“Are you okay,” Karen repeats, though this time it’s not a question, really. “You’ve got distant worried-face.”

“I…” Kara trails off, shakes her head. “It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not,” Karen replies. “You’re upset, clearly, and that’s not stupid. What’s up?”

“I just hate it when guys hit on you!” Kara exclaims, then immediately she glances down at the bar, embarrassed. “I mean, it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t even have…”

“Shouldn’t even have what?” Karen asks.

“It’s stupid to get all territorial of you,” Kara mumbles. “I mean, I don’t _own_ you. That’s a wrong way of thinking. I just… it makes me feel really weird when guys come up and skeeze on you.”

“Why’s that, hon?” Karen pauses to make sure she’s got a good hold of Kara’s hand.

“Well for one, they’re always really gross,” Kara says. “Like they don’t wanna get to know you, they just think you’re pretty. Which you are! You’re gorgeous. But that’s… that’s not all there is to you, y’know?” She makes a face. “And then I start to worry, because you’re so pretty and everyone can see that and, and I’m…”

“You’re gorgeous,” Karen whispers. She could talk about how getting hit on is no picnic for her, either, but she doesn’t want it to come out wrong. Instead she takes a breath and repeats, “You’re gorgeous and the good news is, I don’t want to get to know those guys either.”

“I just feel really dumb,” Kara sighs. “Getting all possessive when we’re not even…”

“I don’t mind, you know,” Karen murmurs. “I think we’re plenty… enough to where a little of that’s okay. I mean, if you wanna be.”

“I kinda think I do,” Kara says, and before she loses her nerve she leans over to kiss Karen’s cheek.

Rhodey’s a few seats down, chatting with Pepper (Tony’s disappeared to god knows where) and giving Kara space, since it seems like she wants to mostly hang out with Karen tonight. He doesn’t mind, not even when he sees her lean over and kiss Karen’s cheek. This isn’t really a huge shock - he knows they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately - and he’s enough of an adult to not need to whine about it, like Tony.

“Hey, something going on?” Pepper asks quietly, raising an eyebrow.

Rhodey chuckles. “Nothing serious. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Pepper asks.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, then adds, “I guess Kara and Karen are a thing now. Good for her, she should be happy.”

“She should,” Pepper agrees. “Is that… I mean, are you…” She sighs. “You should be happy too, y’know.”

“Aw, thanks, Pep.” He smiles at her. “I’ll be okay. It sucks a little, I really like her, but we’ll still be friends, I think. I wanna keep hanging out with her.”

“Yeah,” Pepper nods. “You’ll do it, I bet.”

Rhodey shrugs again. “Thanks.” Then he takes another drink.

“Hey,” Pepper says, “what say we go dance?”

“What?” He’s more than a little surprised.

“Dance,” Pepper repeats. “I hear that’s what people do at these things, sometimes.”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, sure, why not.” He gets up and playfully offers her a hand, grinning.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s just wandering around the edges of the room where most people are dancing when he spots Rhodey and Pepper entering the room. He’s about to wave to them, when they start to dance...with each _other_?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mutters, glancing around for someone to ask to dance just so he doesn’t look as pathetic as he feels. He spots Rogue, who’s leaning against the wall and watching Darcy and Ian attempt a swing dance to “Little Red Corvette,” and sidles over to her. “Hey,” he says.

Rogue starts, as if she wasn’t expecting someone to talk to her, and then nods back at him. “Hey.”

Tony hesitates for a second, and then before he’s quite sure what he’s doing he says, “Don’t you get jealous?”

“Say what?” Rogue raises an eyebrow at him.

“Of, y’know.” Tony nods at Darcy and Ian. “Them. Or him, I guess. I’m assuming you and he don’t do stuff the way you and her do.”

Rogue snorts. “Nope to both. It’s just kinda how we are. Darcy likes us both, an’ I like her, and Ian’s okay, I’m just not into him that way, so we all hang out an’ sometimes she wants to make out with me an’ sometimes with him and it don’t really matter in the long run, it’s all just fun anyway.”

“Really? Huh. So you don’t care that they’re out there dancing without you?”

“Oh, hell no, I can’t swing dance. And I don’t like dancin’ much anyway.”

“Oh.” Well, there goes that plan.

Natasha, who’s close enough to listen to the whole exchange (even though she and Sharon are also swing dancing, slightly better than Darcy and Ian), laughs. “Well, he’s up to his old tricks,” she mutters to Sharon.

“Color me the exact opposite of surprised,” Sharon drawls.

“You think there’ll ever be somebody unlucky enough to divert his attentions from everybody else?”

“I pity that person and pray they’re nonexistent,” Sharon says. “Let’s twirl.”

Natasha does, grinning. “You’re not bad at this,” she teases.

“I think you’ve taught me pretty well,” Sharon agrees brightly.

“You’re a fast learner,” counters Natasha.

“I have a pretty good incentive,” Sharon smirks.

Natasha snickers and pulls her close for a quick kiss.

Clint, who’s been dancing normally with Laura, watches wide-eyed as Sif and Melinda join in the swing trend. Apparently Sif is taking advantage of her height to swing Melinda around almost acrobatically, and it’s kind of mesmerizing to watch. “Hey, do you wanna try that?” he asks Laura. “I mean, I’ve never led before, usually Nat does, but…”

“I mean, if you don’t mind that I’m going to stumble over my own feet,” Laura replies. The two of them have at least undressed down to their box-colored body suits, so they don’t have to worry about that particular detail.

He grins. “Nah, it’s fine. Okay, so first thing we need to do…”

And they’re both trying, really, but part of the problem is that Laura doesn’t have a ton of rhythm and Clint isn’t actually very good at it either, without Natasha to lead. “Whoops,” he says, grinning sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly.

“No, no, you’re okay! Turns out I kinda suck at this.” He kisses the back of her hand. “Back to regular dancing?”

“Sounds good,” she agrees.

Skye giggles. “Hey, you wanna dance?” she asks Jemma, offering a hand. “Can’t be that hard.”

“Sure,” Jemma says brightly. “Though I feel some moshing would be more appropriate, all considered.”

“I mean, probably, but nobody else seems to agree.” Skye takes her out and starts to lead. “Never done this before, so I dunno!”

“Have I told you lately you’re adorable?” Jemma asks.

Skye grins. “That’s the alcohol talking, I can tell.”

“No,” Jemma says. “Maybe. I mean,it might be the alcohol making me say it but it’s true no matter what.”

“You’re adorable too,” teases Skye, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek.

Rosalind, meanwhile, is critically surveying the growing amount of couples on the dance floor. Some of them seem to know what they’re doing (Bobbi and Audrey, which isn’t a surprise) and some of them are faking it decently (Karen and Kara, who make up for their slight inability to dance with any rhythm by having a sense of humor about it) and it’s a tempting enough prospect that she turns to Coulson and says, “We should be dancing.”

Startled, he nods. “Uh, okay. Should I lead?”

:I can, if that isn’t too strange for you,” Rosalind replies with a slightly ironic smile.

“No, not at all.”

She nods. “Then let’s go,” she says, holding her hand out to him and gesturing toward the vague area where the other couples have decided to dance.

He lets himself be led out and tries to follow her lead, but as it turns out he’s just not very good at dancing either way.

“Hm,” Rosalind murmurs, making a face.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, looking sheepish. “I’m trying.”

“I know,” she says. “I do appreciate it.” Maybe the alcohol she’s had is making her slightly nicer than usual.

“Should we keep going?” he asks.

She considers this for a moment. They’re not making anyone else look bad or proving they themselves look good, so there’s really no point. “I’m going to sit,” she says. “Grab me another drink, would you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, relieved.

Meanwhile, Drax and Joey are attempting to join in the dancing, very badly, but it’s charming enough and they’re both smiling. Carina looks sort of like she wants to join in, but Nebula is wearing her usual “fuck dancing” expression, so MJ sidles over and asks, “Hey, Carina, you want me to take you out for a round?”

“Would that be okay?” Carina asks Nebula, smiling nervously.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Nebula shrugs. “I’m sure not going out there. Have fun or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Carina says, clearly relieved, and she turns to MJ with a smile.

“C’mon,” MJ says, grabbing her hand and tugging her out.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, you two,” Bobbi croons, appearing behind Skye and Jemma and draping her arms along the back of the small couch they’re sitting on.

“Hey!” Jemma exclaims, eyes lighting up. “Where’s Audrey?”

“On her way home to go to bed like a responsible adult,” Bobbi smirks. “Early rehearsal or something. I didn’t push.”

“Aw, bummer,” Skye says. “But hey, if you’re gonna come hang out with us I won’t complain.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bobbi shrugs. “Plus, she seemed like she was feeling all antsy dog mom. I don’t really get it, but I get why it would make sense to her.” She smiles, clearly making an effort to brush it off. “I’m good for some hanging out, though. Like a very _irresponsible_ responsible adult, I made sure I wasn’t scheduled for an early shift tomorrow.”

Jemma giggles. “How smart,” she says. “Want to sit?”

“If you’d be so kind,” Bobbi replies, smirking.

Skye scoots over obligingly. “Here!”

Bobbi wastes no time nestling in. “You been having any fun tonight?”

“As much as any Halloween,” Jemma agrees. “Everyone looks nice and Tony isn’t too ridiculous and we haven’t been gatecrashed by any Nazis this year, so that’s nice!”

Skye snorts. “Yeah. We were dancing for a bit, now we’re just people watching.”

“Always a good choice at this kind of shindig,” Bobbi agrees.

“I was actually just about to Skype my mom, if you wanna join in?” Skye offers.

“Sure,” Bobbi says. “Just checking to see what nonsense they’re up to this time?”

“Yeah. She said she was gonna rope Lincoln into something stupid and I wanna see it,” says Skye, grinning.

“That’ll be nice,” Jemma giggles.

Skye dials and when the screen flashes to Jiaying she smiles and says “Hey! How’re things over there?”

“Well,” Jiaying says, clearly trying not to laugh too much, “the night is still young. We already brought the kids through for safe indoor trick-or-treat. Now we’re just… entertaining adults.”

Alisha appears over Jiaying’s shoulder, grinning and waving. “That sounds like we’re plying them with booze and sex,” she says. “We’re not. I mean, there’s beer and stuff, but mostly we’re just having an optionally costumed get-together for our people.” Those at the shelter, she means.

“Wow, Mom, that’s some seventies hair,” teases Skye. “Is that part of the costume or…?”

There’s a bit of commotion onscreen as Jiaying passes the phone to Alisha to give a full once-over of her outfit. “We’re Charlie’s Angels,” Jiaying explains, grinning. She takes the phone back to show Alisha’s own similarly terrible-vintage getup.

Skye starts giggling. “Holy shit, nice! Where’s the other one?”

“Here,” says Lincoln from offscreen, sounding less than thrilled about it. Alisha laughs and takes the phone to very slowly, very dramatically reveal him in all his supposed glory.

“Holy shit!” Jemma yelps, then slapping a hand over her mouth and giggling quietly.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Which makes him all that much better of a sport for putting up with it,” Alisha laughs.

“We’ve been a big hit,” Jiaying adds wryly. “Even the kids who are too young to understand still think it’s funny.”

“I’m Charlie,” says Gordon from offscreen, sounding amused.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” says Skye delightedly.

“What’re you,” Lincoln asks, sounding confused, “a Hot Topic model?”

Skye snickers. “No, I’m Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way, and this is my girlfriend B’loody Mary Smith. They’re from a spectacularly shitty _Harry Potter_ fanfic,” she explains. “It’s infamous.”

Lincoln blinks, still looking confused. “Oh.”

“I can send you the video files of Fitz and I reading it aloud,” Jemma chirps.

“That sounds charming and ridiculous,” Jiaying offers. It’s not an invitation, but.

“Hey, everyone,” Bobbi chimes in, waving. “I’m Princess Serenity.”

“You sure are,” Alisha replies approvingly.

Skye rolls her eyes and grins. “Well, hey, glad you guys are having fun.”

“We are,” Alisha promises. “Mostly.”

“We’re not keeping you from anything, are we?” Jiaying asks.

“Nah, it’s getting on towards the end,” says Skye. “We were dancing a little earlier, we’re kinda just hanging out now. Probably gonna call Tadashi and all of them later too.”

Jiaying nods, smiling. “That sounds very pleasant,” she says.

They chat for a bit more before saying goodnight. Then Skye calls Tadashi.

“Hey!” he says once the call connects. He’s wearing a huge white dog head. “Good to hear from you guys!”

“Yeah, figured we’d check in. Are you Snoopy?” Skye grins. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m Woodstock!” Hiro chimes in, shoving his face into the phone to wave.

“Aw,” Jemma exclaims. “You’re adorable.”

Hiro scoffs. “People keep saying that.”

“You did agree to dress as a tiny bird,” teases Tadashi. “You were kind of asking for the ‘adorable’ comments.” Hiro blows a raspberry at him.

“Feed me, Seymour!” calls Wasabi from further back, using one of his vine-arms to move the giant Audrey 2 head so they can see his face.

“Hey, Wasabi,” says Skye. “Nice costume.”

“How long did that take to _make_?” Jemma asks, clearly impressed.

“Eh, a couple months, I wasn’t working super quickly-”

He’s interrupted by Fred, who announces, “I’m a plant too!” He’s unmistakably a marijuana leaf, which has a stupid cartoon face on it.

“You… are definitely that,” Jemma agrees, trying not to grimace too obviously.

“Hi!!” Honey exclaims, dragging Gogo over and making one of the boys turn the camera their way. “Hi! How are you guys?!”

“We’re good,” says Skye, chuckling. “I like your angel wings, Honey.”

“Thank you!” Honey giggles. “See? Gogo and I go together.” Gogo, conversely, is dressed as a devil and looking rather less enthusiastic. “Hi,” she says, smirking.

“I take it you don’t want to be called adorable either,” Bobbi drawls.

Gogo chuckles. “Rather not, yeah. You look good though. From _Sailor Moon,_ right?”

“Yup,” Bobbi agrees. “Figured I did the miniskirt thing last year, I’d go a little more elegant this year. And it’s fun being fake royalty.”

“It looks great,” Tadashi says, taking the phone back. “And you two too, although, uh, gonna need an explanation, sorry.”

“Oh no worries, it’s weird,” Skye says. “You know _My Immortal_? The fanfic, not the Evanescence song.”

“Yes…?”

“Well. Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and B’loody Mary Smith, at your service!”

“Oh my god, that’s genius,” Wasabi says.

“We try,” Jemma chirps. “And succeed, I think.”

“You definitely do,” agrees Tadashi. “What’re you guys up to tonight?”

“Y’know, Tony Stark’s big house party. We drank some, we danced some, now we’re just hanging out. You?”

“We’re at the cafe, cause Aunt Cass is having a party,” explains Hiro. “Mostly a ‘sit around and eat cookies’ party, but hey. Cookies!”

“Cookies are nice,” Bobbi agrees. “Nobody’s been scared off by Mr. Weedy?”

“Nope,” says Gogo wryly. “Cass did make him promise to bring his own ‘special’ brownies if he wanted them.”

“They’re _deeeelicous_ ,” Fred sing-songs.

“And responsibly consumed?” Jemma asks hopefully.

“Yeah, don’t worry, he’s fine,” says Wasabi. “He’ll just sleep it off.”

Jemma shrugs, making a doubtful face. “Well, all right.”

“Oh, look, look!” Hiro holds up his own phone, which is showing pictures of a chubby tortoiseshell cat in a dragon costume. “Mochi wouldn’t wear it for very long, but I got some pictures anyway.”

“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” squeals Skye.

“He looks sort of miserable, but in a way that he’s tolerating,” Jemma observes.

Tadashi laughs. “He’s used to it. This one put rocket boots on him one time,” he says, nudging Hiro.

“Only once! And not for very long! I just wanted to see what would happen.”

“Other than your cat flipping shit because he’s wearing rocket boots?” Bobbi asks, smirking.

“They didn’t even work, he was totally fine!” protests Hiro.

“I was gonna see if he could breathe fire,” interrupts Fred, “but Cass said no.”

“How would you even - I don’t think I want to know,” Jemma sighs.

Tadashi laughs. “Don’t worry, Mochi’s upstairs now. Probably sleeping.”

“Good. Sounds like he’s had a rough night,” teases Skye.

 

* * *

 

Babysitting is not Lorelei’s forte and nothing will ever change that, but she’s good at reading people and figuring out what they need. Given that Raina is off counseling Kara about some intimate problem best not discussed with an audience (which everyone can pretty much guess and which causes Lorelei to hope that Rhodey won’t suddenly become horrible), she’s the person currently idly watching the little ones. Pietro is just running around like he always does, but Wanda is on a chaise longue by one of the doors, looking overwhelmed, and Hope is with her. It’s a kind of overwhelmed Lorelei knows well, which means at the most tactful opportunity she approaches and says, “Not really your thing, is it?”

Startled, Wanda looks up. “No,” she admits, blinking. “I mean I, it’s better with, with her here, but I-”

“There’s a sitting room down the hall,” Lorelei says. “Go utilize it.”

“Is that okay?” Wanda asks. “No one’s using it?”

“I would knock before you barge in,” Lorelei says, smirking at Hope, “but last I checked it’s free.”

“If you’re sure,” says Wanda, still looking anxious.

“I think that sounds nice,” Hope says shyly. “Just relaxing for a little.”

Wanda nods, squeezing Hope’s hand and pressing closer to her.

Luckily, it’s unoccupied, and Hope ushers Wanda into the room before shutting the door, looking only slightly like she’s out of her depth but entirely like she’s trying to do right. “Wanna sit?” she asks comfortingly, nodding toward the couch. “We could sit.”

Wanda nods and lets Hope guide her to the couch. She’s quiet for a minute or two, just breathing, then she finally says, “I’m sorry, it’s just...it’s been a long night.”

“You’re fine!” Hope exclaims softly. “I promise. I’m not exactly… well.” She tries to smile reassuringly. “Could I, maybe, your hair?”

Wanda nods again. “Please?” she asks, voice very small. “That sounds nice.”

“I think so too,” Hope agrees. Very gently she starts raking her fingers through Wanda’s hair. “Your hair is really pretty, you know.”

Sighing, Wanda shuts her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do,” Hope says. “I like just playing with it, it’s really… well, it’s pretty. Also you’re pretty.”

“Thank you.” Wanda tips her head toward Hope. “You are too. You look cute in that dress.”

“Thank you,” Hope echoes. “I, I always wanted to dress up like this when I was a kid but I never got around to it, so why not, I figured.”

“It’s cute,” Wanda repeats, smiling. “You’re cute.”

Hope blushes. “You are too, you know,” she says. “I wanna… I don’t know. I wanna be a nice thing for you even when everything else isn’t.”

“You are,” Wanda says, leaning her head on Hope’s shoulder. “You’re very calming.”

“I mean, good, I guess,” Hope murmurs, laughing softly. “I never really thought about that one way or another, but I’m glad it’s working.”

Laughing a bit nervously, Wanda replies, “I mean it, I promise. You’re very nice to be with.”

“Thank you,” Hope says. “You are too. I really don’t mind just having… quiet time, or whatever? This is nice. Nicer than the party, even.”

“Okay. I wouldn’t want to be, um, an inconvenience.”

“You’re not!” Hope promises. “It’s fun being with you out there if you’re having fun and stuff, but it’s also fun being in here with you if that’s better for you. I wanna…” She wrinkles her nose, seeming to be struggling to find words. “I wanna help.”

“Thank you,” says Wanda. “I appreciate it.”

 

* * *

 

Quill has been sitting near Tegan and Bereet for the last ten minutes, trying to join in the conversation and mostly failing. He wandered over to talk to Tegan because he was hoping maybe she’d want to talk Bowie too, which she did...until Bereet wandered over. Now he’s not really sure how he got excluded from the conversation.

“I mean, it’s not like _Labyrinth_ is a paragon of healthy relationships or anything,” Bereet is saying, laughing nervously. “But, I dunno, there’s something about Bowie in those tight pants that was kinda significant to… something for me, developmentally.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Tegan says, nodding sagely. “But I mean, it makes sense, I guess. For me it was always the androgyny that was so cool. The kind of playing with gender and gender roles, how he made it look so fabulous.”

“Yeah,” Bereet giggles. “And the trendsetting!”

“I watched _The Man Who Fell to Earth_ like a thousand times as a kid,” Quill says, but he might as well have said nothing.

“Like, it wasn’t always perfect, it wasn’t always bright and happy, but everything he did was _interesting_ ,” Tegan agrees. “It wasn’t quite like anything anyone else came up with.”

“He didn’t halfass things,” Bereet nods. “It’s admirable. If nothing else, he was consistently strange and he owned it.”

“But he made strange cool,” Tegan says. “And for that, I thank him.”

“Yeah, I like how he didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought,” Quill tries to chime in. “He was really authentic.”

Tegan seems to notice this exactly long enough to nod approvingly in Quill’s direction before she starts in on something else, at which point he decides maybe slinking away quietly is the most dignified thing to do. Maybe Drax or Gamora is up for hanging out.

 

* * *

 

Rhodey and Pepper are just sitting at the bar talking and hanging out (they don’t get to a lot without Tony, so it’s nice) when Tony wanders by, clearly sloshed out of his mind and singing along with “Moonage Daydream” very off-key. “Well,” says Rhodey, grinning, “I think that’s my cue to go do some wrangling.”

“Want help?” Pepper asks. “I feel bad leaving you to it alone.”

“Sure,” Rhodey agrees, getting off the stool and walking after Tony. “Hey, hey, c’mere. You can serenade me all you want once you’re in bed, okay?”

“Do I have to?” whines Tony. “There’s a party!”

“It’s winding down,” Pepper says diplomatically. “A good half of your guests have already taken off. Nobody will mind.”

He points at the ceiling. “Music’s still going.”

“Would you go see about shutting that off?” Rhodey asks Pepper quietly, laughing.

She nods, hurrying off in the appropriate direction.

“Let’s go, time for bed,” says Rhodey, nudging Tony out of the room and toward the upstairs.

“Was a good party,” mumbles Tony. “There was a kegstand, dancing, drinks…”

“Nobody broke anything,” Rhodey points out.

“Yeah.” Tony nods, like maybe his head is too heavy for his neck. “Hey, where’s your girl anyway, shouldn’t you be, y’know, _busy_?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “She’s not _my_ girl, Tony. And I’m pretty sure she’s with somebody else now anyway.”

“Oh. Well, fuck her,” says Tony cheerfully. “You deserve _better_.”

“It’s really fine,” Rhodey says. “She’s an adult, and I think we’ll still hang out. Though I appreciate your jumping to my defense.”

“What’re friends for?” slurs Tony. “Hey, if you wanna stay over tonight…”

Rhodey laughs. “You know, I might. We’ll see. Don’t trip up the stairs.”

“How’s this?” Pepper asks, coming up behind them. Sure enough, the music has stopped and the house is calmer. “Are you ready for bed now?”

“‘f I have to be,” says Tony, only grumbling a little. “Do you wanna stay too? Rhodey’s staying.”

“I could stay,” Pepper agrees. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be.” She’s trying to make this sound like a funny joke, like of course she doesn’t because it’s the middle of the night.

Rhodey guides Tony to his bedroom and then points at the bed. “Sit. I’ll get stuff for you.”

Tony sits obediently. “You guys had fun, right?”

“Yeah, I had fun. You had fun, right Pep?”

“I did,” Pepper declares. “It wasn’t too crazy.”

“Good.” Tony’s eyes are starting to droop.

Eventually the three of them are sprawled in Tony’s king size bed, Rhodey facing him and Pepper on his other side. He mutters “G’night” and then passes out so quickly it’s almost unbelievable, snoring.

“Hey Pepper?” Rhodey asks quietly.

“What’s going on?” Pepper asks.

“Oh I just wanted to say thanks, for, y’know. Hanging out and stuff.” Rhodey laughs. “I’m really not mad about Kara or anything, but it was nice to have somebody to talk to.”

“Aw,” Pepper says. “Of course. Sometimes things happen, but you’re a good friend and I want to be there for you.”

“Well, thanks. Happy Halloween.”

“You too,” she murmurs. “Should we sneak downstairs to make sure everyone’s getting home safe? Or would Tony notice and freak out?”

“Eh, they’ll be okay. They’re adults. I’ll text Darcy and deputize her,” he jokes, reaching for his phone.

“How efficient and yet daring of you,” Pepper jokes.

He snorts. “I know she’s still here, and she knows everybody, might as well put her to work.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Halloween revelers!” Darcy shouts, climbing up on a barstool. “As you might have guessed by the disappearance of our host and also the music, it’s looking like it’s time to head on out of here. Your home, someone else’s home, whatever, it’s all good as long as you’re invited.”

“Who put you in charge?” calls Quill, but he’s grinning, so there’s not any bite to his words.

“I’ve been officially assigned this duty by Rhodey, who, c’mon let’s be real, is Tony’s conscience,” she announces. “So that means it’s my job to shepherd all your asses out, or something.”

Quill nods. “Fair enough.” He makes his way toward the exit.

Matt and his friends are sitting off to the side, and start collecting themselves once Darcy makes the announcement. “See you tomorrow, Karen,” he says.

Foggy blinks. “Wait. What? Tomorrow? Isn’t she coming home with us?”

Karen glances guiltily between him and Kara. “Uh…”

“Really?” Claire rolls her eyes. “You telling me you haven’t picked up on that at _all_ , Nelson?”

“Picked up on what?”

Kara waves, looking sort of smug. “Hi, Foggy.”

He tilts his head. “Okay, so you’re going to Kara’s place…”

“For reasons that really should be apparent by now,” Kara agrees.

It takes another minute for it to dawn on him. “ _Oh._ Uh, congratulations? Be safe? Have fun?”

“Any and all of those are appropriate,” Karen agrees, laughing. “I promise we will. Do both of those things.” Because she can’t help but mess with him a little bit.

“I think I’m supposed to give the whole ‘if you hurt her I’ll hurt you’ speech, but I don’t want to hurt either one of you,” teases Matt, “so never mind.”

‘Thanks for the thought, anyway,” Karen replies.

“See you guys later, then,” Kara says, starting toward the door with her hand in Karen’s,

Matt, Claire, and Foggy head out after them, Claire saying quietly to Foggy, “So it really took you until _just now_ to figure it out, huh? I thought guys were supposed to be obsessed with girl-on-girl stuff.”

“Yeah, _creepy_ guys!” Foggy says, sounding offended. “Matt, tell me I’m not a creepy guy.”

“You’re not,” says Matt, sounding amused. “You tend a little toward the oblivious, though.”

Foggy holds up both middle fingers. “You can’t see it, but I’m flipping you off.”

“Oh, I know,” says Matt with a grin.


	119. but that only happens when I get provoked by some piece of shit asshole we all sadly know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternative medicine clinic opens up near the mall, and the whole operation is suspicious. One employee in particular proves himself to be a problem.

“What’s this?” Irani asks, raising an eyebrow as she picks up the gold flyer on her desk.

“Oh, someone came in earlier, asked if he could put one up on the bulletin board and leave a few around,” Garthan says. “I said it’d be fine.”

Kara comes around the desk to investigate, making a face. “Kamar-Taj Clinic of Alternative Medicine?” she reads slowly, disbelievingly. “Why do I have the feeling that the guy who came in earlier was anything but Asian?”

Garthan shrugs. “I wasn’t paying attention,” he says, before turning back to his computer.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Karen mutters. “Do we really have to have the ‘pay attention to everyone who comes in this office’ talk again? ‘Cause I thought that was pretty clear.”

“Karen, I’m sure whoever stopped by didn’t mean any harm,” says Irani, not quite sternly. “Whatever this...clinic...is, it seems fairly harmless.”

“You’re looking at the same flyer, right?” Kara asks. “Like, you’re seeing all the…” She scoffs. “It’s like a Google search for symbols of Eastern religion threw up.”

Irani snorts. “Yes, I suppose it is a bit...much. Still, it’s best ignored. We likely won’t be affected by it.”

“Can we hold you to that?” Karen sighs.

“I can’t predict the future,” says Irani with a chuckle. “But we can take the flyer down if it bothers you that much.”

Karen glances at Kara, who looks dangerously close to angry, and very gently says, “Maybe we should. I mean, it’s…”

“It’s not like it’s mall-related, technically,” Kara chimes in, flashing an eerily fake smile that seems to have come out of nowhere (which means it’s very calculated). “It’s not even retail.”

Irani nods slowly. “That’s certainly true. Let’s say no more about it, then.” She gathers the flyers from Karen and Kara’s desks and grabs the one off the bulletin board before casually feeding them into the shredder. “There.”

“There,” Kara repeats, sounding mostly satisfied.

“Garthan, I would like you to be a bit more mindful about who and what you allow in here from now on,” Irani adds. He makes a small noise of acknowledgement but doesn’t reply otherwise.

“We really appreciate it,” Karen adds, sugary-sweet.

 

* * *

 

“Take a look at _that_ ,” Candace snorts, nodding toward the bulletin board on the wall.

Usually it’s covered in posters for senior recitals, advertisements for adopting pets, general stuff that’s not going to offend anyone who either works at or patronizes the mall Starbucks, so it takes Claire a minute to figure out what Candace is talking about. But once she sees it, it’s impossible to ignore. “The fuck is that?” she mutters, squinting at the poster. “Kamar-Taj?”

“Some new small business,” Candace snarks. “Came in this morning asking could they put up flyers, because heaven knows, all classy doctors advertise in Starbucks.”

“And use graphics that look like they came from Google Images,” adds Claire, grinning. “That does explain why I thought I saw Christine Palmer from freshman year getting off the bus earlier this morning.”

“Who’s Christine Palmer?” Candace asks, head tilted. “Friend of yours?”

“Jealous?” teases Claire. “No, she’s just someone I had a few classes with back then. Smart girl, good lab partner. I thought she transferred somewhere else, but I guess maybe she’s got a job with whoever these weirdos are.”

“No,” Candace scoffs, “just wondering. If that’s the case, too bad for her. They seemed like jackasses.”

Claire shakes her head. “Too bad. She was dedicated, always taking early morning classes. Morning person. Drove me crazy.” She laughs and adds, “Anyway. We’re still on for Friday night, right?”

“‘Course we are,” Candace says. “You sure you’re not gonna get called in on some emergency shift again?”

“I’m gonna turn off my phone,” Claire promises. “For a few hours, I’m all yours.”

Candace beams. “Flatterer.”

“We’re gonna have a nice dinner and a nice evening and nobody will get in the way of that.”

“Nobody at all,” Candace agrees.

“Miller!” Shades yells from across the cafe, adjusting his apron angrily. “You planning on getting back to work anytime soon?”

Candace rolls her eyes. “Bossman’s calling,” she snarks, finishing her coffee and standing.

Claire chuckles. “Good luck. I’ll text you,” she says, getting up and grabbing Candace’s hand to squeeze it gently. “Later.”

 

* * *

 

“Would you like more alfredo sauce, my love?” Thor asks.

“A little,” Jane agrees. “Thanks for making dinner.”

“Of course.” He pours more onto her pasta and smiles. “It’s the least I could do, after you came home in such a state. What happened?”

“It’s really dumb,” she sighs. “I don’t know why it upset me so much.”

“From what you said, that man you had such an unpleasant encounter with was very disrespectful,” Thor says, putting his hand on hers. “I don’t blame you for being upset.”

“You know how you can tell someone is going to be painful to deal with just by seeing them?” she asks, rolling her eyes. “He was just that kind of guy. Walked in like he knew more about what we were doing than we did even though he didn’t buy it.”

Thor laughs. “Yes. I fear in my youth I may have been that sort of person. They’re most unpleasant.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Jane says, reaching to squeeze his hand. “This guy just… I don’t know. Besides, even at your worst I bet you never said ‘konnichiwa’ to a Korean girl.”

He blinks. “No, I wouldn’t. Did he say that to Helen?”

“Yeah,” Jane mutters. “It was also the _only_ thing he said to Helen. Even when she directly asked him if he needed any help.”

“Disgraceful,” he says, shaking his head. “I am sorry you had to deal with him. If I had been there, I would have made him sorry for his behavior. Did you say he works in that strange new clinic?”

“Yeah,” Jane repeats. She takes a sip of her wine about as angrily as possible. “I guess he must have placed the order with my manager, because I know I never talked to him before today.”

“Well, let us hope he never returns,” Thor says. “And that he doesn’t begin to frequent other parts of the mall. I fear that if he ever ran into my brother, it might end badly. He can be very...easily influenced at times.”

“Oh my god,” Jane groans. “They’d just be… skinny and white and patronizing together and it would be horrible.”

Thor laughs. “Something like that, yes. I will do what I can to prevent that from happening. Would a drink improve your spirits?”

“Lemme finish this one before we think about anything stronger,” Jane smirks. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to some promises of after-dinner snuggles.”

“Of course,” he says, smiling. “Anything you wish.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so what happened earlier?” Hope asks, carefully putting a hand close enough on the table to Wanda that if she needs to she can grab it. “You seemed seriously pissed off.”

Wanda takes her up on that offer, scowling. “A man came into the store while Darcy was there visiting Ian and he was an asshole.”

“Oh my god, he _was_ ,” Darcy agrees, sipping her soda. “He acted like he thought he should get a Nobel Prize for breathing really intelligently or some shit.”

“That sentence sounds like a satirical Tumblr post,” Hope says.

“This man is a satirical Tumblr post,” Darcy agrees grimly.

Wanda snorts. “He came in looking for a book about transcendental meditation, I think, and he looked down his nose at Ian the whole time he was talking to him. We only had two books and he’d read them both, and he made a comment about the _lacking_ selection.”

“He realizes you’re a partially used bookstore, right?” Hope murmurs. “That your selection is kind of… you know. A reflection of what people bring in?”

“It didn’t seem to matter to him,” says Wanda, rolling her eyes. “Ian offered to see if we could order something and he acted like we were trying to ruin his life.”

“Because, you know, I’m sure he had a constant, immediate, giant library of books on that very subject at his disposal in whatever pretentious hipster town spawned him,” Darcy adds. “How could he _possibly_ survive here?”

“And then,” Wanda says, with a bitter laugh, “he asked if any of us knew anything about the subject, clearly wanting to tell us about it, and then when I said I knew a bit about it he launched into a list of things it’s good for. He said it helps anxiety and depression and then when I said my medication helps my anxiety he got…” She grimaces. “Worse.”

Hope squeezes Wanda’s hand, frowning deeply. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “That’s awful.” She doesn’t elaborate, though, in case Wanda wants to continue.

Wanda, shaking just a bit, glances at Darcy as if pleading with her to continue, and Darcy nods grimly. “He was the worst,” she says. “He was all… preachy as shit, like everyone else was wrong automatically because he knew the universe or whatever, and he wasn’t even polite about it. Rude as fuck.”

“Was he just like, anti-meds at all?” Hope asks carefully

“Pretty much,” Darcy agrees. “I mean, he didn’t come out and say it, but just about.”

“I don’t want to know what he would’ve said about me if he knew more about me,” mutters Wanda. “Probably thinks he could _fix_ that with meditation too.”

“I’m sorry,” Hope echoes. “I don’t think you need fixing at all.”

Wanda sighs and drops her head against Hope’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says softly. “He was just so... _rude_ and arrogant.”

“He sounds like it,” Hope agrees, her voice starting to slide up nervously like it does when she’s getting really vehement. “I hate people like that? Who think they know what’s best for everyone? Like if they had their way, it’d be like… like everyone would do it that way.”

“Yeah,” Darcy says. “Crazy conservative Christians and really pretentious over-privileged intellectual liberals are the worst about this, I think, but it actually all comes down to the same shit. This guy was definitely in the latter category.”

Wanda nods. “I want to do some research on that clinic. I feel like there must be something odd about it.”

“If there’s nothing else, there’s probably at least a minor lawsuit or something,” Darcy says, all seriousness. “Possibly harassment.”

“If he behaves like that often, it wouldn’t surprise me,” sighs Wanda. “Anyway, that’s what happened.”

“That’s the worst,” Hope says. “Can we get him banned? I’m pretty sure that level of shit gets you banned here, probably.”

“I mean, I’m not going to be the one to ask Irani,” Darcy says, smirking, “but I don’t think that’s a bad idea. Not in _our_ mall! Or whatever.”

That makes Wanda laugh. “Maybe? I could ask, anyway. Maybe someone else has already reported something.”

“I’ll ask Jane if she would,” Darcy offers. “He fucking said _konnichiwa_ to Helen. I bet he probably pretended to bow, too.”

“Oh my god,” Hope exclaims.

Wanda narrows her eyes. “I hate him,” she says, closing her other hand into a fist.

“He sounds like everything bad,” Hope agrees.

 

* * *

 

 **_About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 4-November-2016

_Most of us know about this place already. Maybe you’ve already met one of the doctors, he’s a tall, pale man with a long face who sneers every time he talks. I hate him. I decided to look into the clinic to see how legitimate they are, and I found...well._

_My advisor Dr. Garner helped me access some medical journals, and among other things I found out the founder is vocally anti-vaccinations and a supporter of Autism Speaks (which, if you didn’t know, is a terrible organization that wants to “find a cure” and treats autism as if it is a disease and a curse rather than a neurological difference). The clinic seems to be largely peddling “alternative” medicine and meditation techniques that may or may not be legitimate, but considering everything their founder (and head doctor, by the looks of things) believes, I would doubt its legitimacy._

_Also, I haven’t seen a single Asian person working there. I find that suspicious._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 4-November-2016

_YIKES. That’s…bad. I dunno what to do about it besides say YIKES a lot but there’s gotta be something we can do. (Maybe I can hack into their network and fuck with it?)_

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _PrincessDoctor,_ 4-November-2016

  1. _As a responsible girlfriend, I should dissuade you from doing anything that could get you in legal trouble if you were found out._


  1. _As a concerned citizen, I’m curious about how you think you could fuck with it in a way that had a significant enough impact to get it across that we abhor everything they stand for._



**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 4-November-2016

_I mean. I could make it so all their computers and phones Rickroll them, but that’s probably not enough of a punishment for being shitheads._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _Melinda,_ 4-November-2016

_No Rickrolling. Can you look into their financial records? It’s possible you could dig up something there. If you’re going to do that kind of thing._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 4-November-2016

_Maybe...Wanda, you wouldn’t have found anything in the journals about them being shady with money or insurance stuff, right?_

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 4-November-2016

_No...but it wouldn’t surprise me._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _Mockingbird,_ 4-November-2016

_Do we know anything about the other employees?_

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _WendyDarling,_ 4-November-2016

_Claire said she knew the nurse a couple years ago in school and that she’s not that bad a person, which begs the question “was this the only place hiring?” but hey._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 5-November-2016

_I’ve seen another man coming out of there, a black man, oddly enough. He rides my bus sometimes and smiles at me if we make eye contact. He has kind eyes. I think he might be alright as a person._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _PeerReview,_ 4-November-2016

_Google suggests he’s a doctoral candidate? With apparently horrible luck finding a place to anchor himself to in the meantime._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _Asha,_ 4-November-2016

_Must suck to be a doctor working for a dickter. Please feel free to borrow that. After the Dickter’s shenanigans, it’s only appropriate._

**_Re: About the Kamar-Taj Clinic_ ** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 4-November-2016

_LOL I’m definitely gonna borrow that. Anyway, I can look into the financial stuff when I have time, I’m sure I can dig something up. In the meantime, if this dude gives anyone shit, just like, step on his toes and pretend it was an accident when he whines at you, or something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we're skipping everything to do with this movie.


	120. nothing better than this, oh, and then the storm can come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a girls' night, full of news about the questionable clinic and idle observations about fellow patrons.

“Thank goodness the great mope isn’t working tonight,” Jemma snarks as she, Skye, and Bobbi walk into Applebee’s.

Skye snorts. “He’s probably at home with shitty beer, moping there instead.”

“Saves us from having to get pinned by angry glances all night,” Jemma says cheerfully.

“It’s not that bad,” Bobbi exclaims, but she’s laughing. “Usually.”

“No accounting for taste,” says Skye, smirking.

“Over here!” Sharon calls, waving from a booth in the corner.

The three of them walk over and slide into the booth. “Hey,” Skye says, grinning. “What’d we miss?”

Sharon glances at Maria, Elena, and Natasha, who are the only others to have shown up yet, and shrugs. “We’re just settling in,” she says cheerfully.

“Nice to see you here,” says Elena, smiling.

“I’m just glad to be free for the night,” Jemma says, rolling her eyes fondly. “I haven’t had a chance to breathe all week, it feels like.”

“Busy little scientist bee,” Bobbi remarks, bumping Jemma’s shoulder.

“Busy little science and homework and work-work and twenty other things bee,” Jemma corrects. “Also busy little anxiety bee, if I’m honest.” She sighs.

Skye grabs her hand gently and squeezes it. “You’re great,” she says fondly.

“I’m trying,” Jemma mumbles, going pink.

Shyly, Tegan approaches the table, waving. “Uh, hey, guys,” she says. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” says Maria with a small wave and a smile. “Not much. Sit down.”

“Okay,” Tegan says, sliding in at the edge of the table. “Are, uh, Sif and Melinda coming?”

Maria smirks and nods. “Yeah, Sif texted me that they’d be a little late. Which means we have to give them hell when they get here.”

“Why?” Tegan asks, because she genuinely doesn’t get that.

“Even if they weren’t late ‘cause they were making out, or whatever, it’s funny to pretend they were,” explains Natasha.

“Oh,” Tegan says, a bit wide-eyed. “Um. So how’s everyone else doing?”

“Okay,” Sharon says. “My aunt and her fiancee just set a date for their wedding, so I’ve been kind of helping them get things organized.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” says Elena. “Congratulations to them. I’ve started volunteering at a class for Spanish speakers, to help them learn English. Meets twice a week, it’s nice.”

Maria nods. “Not bad. You know how work’s been going. My niece called me the other night, which was nice.”

“My boss told me I’m up for a promotion soon,” says Skye with a self-deprecating little shrug. “So I guess that’s happening.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Jemma says immediately, kissing Skye’s cheek.

Skye rolls her shoulders proudly. “Thanks,” she says, smiling.

“My dumb cat figured out how to open doors and now she gets into my bedroom and sleeps on my head,” grumbles Natasha.

“I have a picture,” Sharon grins. “It’s great.”

Skye bounces. “Show us!”

Sharon starts to pull out her phone, laughing. “Anyone else would get murdered for this,” she says gleefully as she passes it around.

“Oh my,” Jemma exclaims, clearly delighted. “You know, if your cat ever wants a cat friend, I volunteer mine. She needs to socialize more anyway.”

Natasha snorts, but she’s smiling. “Maybe it would stop her from learning annoying shit. I half-expect her to figure out the can opener next.”

“Has she already figured out cupboards?” Jemma asks.

“Yeah. Little bastard hooks her paw into the door and opens them.”

“Technically all cats are bastards,” Tegan jokes. “Since, you know, cats don’t get married.”

Maria snorts. “Fair point, if ridiculous.” Then she nudges Bobbi and says, “So how’s Audrey doing?”

“Yeah,” adds Natasha, grinning mischievously, “you guys were pretty cozy on Halloween.”

“She’s all right,” Bobbi says, tossing her hair. “Busy. Getting ready for that holiday thing they do.”

Elena snickers. “Are you going to go? Be supportive?”

“Obviously,” Bobbi retorts.

“Awww.” Skye bumps her shoulder against Bobbi’s. “That’s cute.”

“What?” Bobbi snaps, although she’s not really annoyed.

“You, doing stuff for your ladyfriend. It’s cute.”

“I went to her holiday concert last year, too,” Bobbi shrugs. “It’s not a thing.” She raises an eyebrow at Maria. “How’s Maya?”

Maria grins. “She’s fine. Couldn’t come tonight, she’s got midterms this week. I’m planning on taking her out once it’s over, somewhere nice.”

“She’ll deserve it,” Jemma nods very seriously. “Midterms are hell.”

“You’re not studying right now,” points out Natasha.

“There comes a time when one has to go out for their own mental well-being,” Jemma says. “Especially when one’s mental well-being is already being tasked.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s better this way. I know otherwise I’ll start to panic and I’ll end up wasting far more time than I spend out to dinner.”

Bobbi gives Jemma a sympathetic squeeze. “We’d all prefer you didn’t do that,” she says. “We all know brains can be jackasses, but if you can figure ways to counteract that, then by all means.”

“You know,” Jemma says to the table at large, “that dickter from down the way has been preaching some ableist nonsense to anyone who’ll listen? I know he’s given the anti-medication spiel to several of us, myself included. There are ‘better ways’ to take care of mental health conditions than drugs that are specifically designed to treat them, apparently.” She snorts. “Because trying to sit quietly and meditate has definitely never given anyone, myself included, a panic attack in and of itself.”

“But guess who told him off for it?” Skye says, beaming. “To his face?”

“Tell us,” Sharon encourages. “You clearly want to.”

“Her first, and then me,” Skye replies, running a hand down Jemma’s back.

“I don’t care that he is a so-called doctor,” Jemma huffs, pressing against Skye as she speaks. “If I wanted his dubious medical advice I’d patronize his clinic. Which, incidentally, going around and patronizing others is not a great way to convince people to do.”

Sif and Melinda come in, and Sif asks, “Who’s this, now?”

“That doctor from the new clinic,” explains Maria. “You guys are late.” She winks as she says this.

Sif rolls her eyes. “Nothing I can say will be a plausible enough excuse for you,” she says with a grin as they sit down.

“Hi, guys,” Tegan says with a bashful wave.

Melinda nods a greeting. “I see we’re expanding the group a bit,” she says to Maria.

Maria chuckles. “I figured she could try it out, see how she likes us outside of work.”

“So far so good,” Tegan cracks.

“I saw that doctor once,” says Melinda. “He gave me a weird look, so I glared at him. Also Andrew called me the other day, he said he was looking into that clinic and apparently they’ve been involved in some pretty serious litigations before. He was going to put together a case and go to the authorities, but then a little birdie told him they’re preparing to leave soon, in a pretty big hurry. Probably has something to do with at least one of those cases.”

Skye’s eyes widen. “Holy shit,” she says. “That’s wild.”

“Do you know what the lawsuits were about?” Bobbi asks.

“Malpractice, mostly. False medical claims, insurance fraud. Lots of dramatic things.” Melinda smirks. “He seemed pretty fired up about it, not that I blame him.”

“So basically, we’re not gonna have to worry about that asshole soon?” Natasha says.

Melinda nods. “Unless they’re _really_ lawyered up, and I doubt it.”

“So...we probably can’t egg it till they’re gone, right?” Skye asks, making an innocent face.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Maria says. “Legally.”

“Same,” Tegan says. “But, hush-hush, I like your style.”

Skye mouths “Outside, later” and gives her an exaggerated wink.

“But it’s _your fault_ that he got his hands on that!” a woman shouts. They all look up to see who’s talking and notice a group of, presumably, businesspeople at a table near the bar, all of them looking flustered.

“But you’re the one who gave him the idea!” a man retorts.

“Uh-oh,” Bobbi says with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t have given anyone any ideas if you hadn’t given me that book,” the woman declares. “You’re the one who told him to do the thing.”

A second man pipes up. “Actually, I think he might have wanted to do the thing the whole time.”

“See?” the first man yells.

“Well,” Elena says, raising an eyebrow. “Something is happening over there.”

“You just like blaming everyone else!” the woman yells. “ _You_ could never make anyone do anything, you just happen to see people doing things all the time around you.”

“That’s not fair,” the second man says. “I think you’re being unfair. We’re all affected by the things that happen in our building.”

“So either they work together or their entire apartment complex is hatefucking,” Bobbi surmises.

“Beats me,” Tegan says. “Have we heard a single proper noun?”

“Building?” Natasha asks, snickering.

“It would need to be mentioned as a certain building,” Sharon points out. “That would be too easy, though.”

“They must all have the exact same frame of reference,” Jemma says.

“I can’t believe you,” the first man says, halfway to growling. “The men clearly said that the things disappeared in the afternoon, right after you spoke to him about that _hole_.”

“The hole that you gave me a book about!” the woman snaps.

“Well, we’ve dissolved into word salad,” says Maria, taking a sip of her drink.

“Is this just what office people are like?” Sharon asks. “I knew there was a good reason I never paid attention to my dad’s stories about work.”

Maria snorts. “I mean, at the precinct there was an awful lot of petty bitching and fighting, so, basically.”

“I’m so afraid academia is going to be like that,” Jemma sighs.

“You’ll be okay,” Skye says, running her hand down Jemma’s arm reassuringly. “If they’re dumb just tell them to fuck off.”

“I’m good at that, aren’t I?” Jemma murmurs, grinning.

“You are,” Skye says, kissing her cheek.

Sif snorts. “I think there are ridiculous people anywhere. Anyway, what’s everyone’s game plan for Black Friday this year?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have decided that the political climate in this world is very different than the one in ours. We'll try to keep things light for a while. We're pretty sure you're all going to need it.
> 
> Also, sorry it's short this week. It's been...a week for us all.


	121. but then you found me and everything changed and I believe in something again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carina's feeling a bit insecure about the future. Nebula comes up with a solution to help her feel better.

Nebula’s sitting across from Carina in the food court, eating lunch, and Carina’s doing that thing she does when she’s upset. She’s sitting like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible and not making eye contact with Nebula or smiling. Nebula frowns - normally she doesn’t care when other people are upset, but Carina is different. “Hey,” she says. “What’s wrong? You’re upset.”

“Politics,” Carina murmurs, trying to shrug it off.

“You don’t care that much about politics,” Nebula points out. “Not enough to be like this.”

“I’m just… they’re so, um, unstable,” Carina says. “Things happen so suddenly.”

Nebula makes what passes for a sympathetic face. “Yeah?” She knows that kind of thing freaks Carina out, so it makes sense.

“Yeah,” Carina agrees. “Like sometimes things don’t really affect those of us down here on the ground, you know? But sometimes it all goes to hell, and I just…”

Nebula casually puts her hand on the table, palm up, in case Carina wants to grab it. “Makes sense,” she says. “Wanna talk about it?”

Carina does, swallowing heavily before she whispers, “I would never forgive myself if I didn’t… it’s just… I’m afraid someone is going to try to take you away from me.”

“Well...shit,” says Nebula, feeling horribly awkward. “Want a hug?”

“Please?” Carina asks, voice very small. It’s clear she’s trying not to burst out crying in the food court (it wouldn’t be the first time, but still).

Nebula nods and comes over to put her arms around her, glancing around in case there’s anyone staring at them who she needs to glare at (there isn’t). “Anyone I can punch for you?” she asks, trying for lighthearted.

“I mean, you could always punch Loki,” Carina jokes (it’s not really a joke).

“I can do that,” says Nebula. “Anything else you want?”

Carina shakes her head, sniffling. “Just promise me you won’t let them?”

“I won’t,” says Nebula, reaching up to stroke Carina’s hair. “That’ll never happen.”

After she walks Carina back to work (and death-glares Loki, who gives her a wounded look), Nebula wanders back over to Knowhere, pulling out her phone and texting MJ on the way.

_ >>hey do you wanna get ordained? _

_ >>...like as a pastor? _

_ >>yeah _

_ >>....................why? _

 

* * *

 

“So why so fancy tonight?” Carina asks as they walk into the Olive Garden, laughing nervously. “I mean, I don’t mind an excuse to get dressed up, but…”

Nebula shrugs. “I like spoiling you and shit,” she says. “I know you like this stuff, so.”

Carina blushes. “I do, I just… it’s so out of nowhere.”

“Well, you’ve been kinda down over the last week. I wanted to cheer you up, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Carina says, smiling shyly. “You’re sweet to me.”

Nebula smirks. “Just you.”

“I know,” Carina murmurs. “It means a lot.”

Nodding, Nebula squeezes her hand. “You mean a lot,” she says, embarrassed that she said something so sappy.

“You must really want to spoil me, if you’re getting feelingsy,” Carina teases.

“Don’t get used to it,” teases Nebula, bumping her shoulder gently.

“Promise,” Carina agrees.

They get inside and called for a table and Nebula leads Carina over, not making faces at the perky waitress like she usually does. Once they’ve gotten their drinks and ordered food, she says, “So, I was thinking about what you said about being worried we’d get split up and shit.”

“I was just being irrational,” Carina mumbles. “I get scared about things.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to fix it,” says Nebula, reaching for her hand again. “You’re… it’s better with you. Stuff is better with you.”

“Oh,” Carina exclaims, somehow surprised by this. “I… I mean, mine too. You’re… a bunch of sappy things I know you don’t want me to say in public.”

Nebula snorts. “Thanks. Appreciate that. Anyway, so I was looking some stuff up and I talked to MJ and she’s working on getting ordained and shit.”

“ _What_?” Carina squeaks.

“Uh. I suck at this. Here,” Nebula says, pulling a ring box out of her pocket and pushing it across the table. She smiles at Carina and it’s almost shy.

“ _What_?” Carina repeats, and immediately she bursts into tears.

“Shit. Uh.” Nebula glances around. “I’m sorry, I can, um, take it back…”

“No!” Carina squeals. “No, I, I love it, I just…”

“It’s not anything fancy at all,” mumbles Nebula. “I literally just went to Claire’s and they had...well, you can look at it. I figured it was okay since we can get actual rings and stuff.”

With shaking hands, Carina opens the box. “Oh, my,” she laughs, swiping at her cheeks. The ring has a rainbow and is clearly halved, reading “Best.”

Nebula pulls the other half out of her pocket, which reads “Friends.” “I just thought it was funny,” she says, smirking. “Someone knew what was up.”

“Clearly,” Carina sniffles. “Thank you so much.”

“‘Course,” says Nebula. “So MJ’s getting ordained, I think she’s supposed to get the certificate or whatever in the next week. So then we can do it whenever, I guess. Sorry it’s not fancy, I just thought maybe it would...make you feel better.”

“It does,” Carina says. “I mean, you really want to, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re pretty much the only person I can stand to be around for more than like eight hours. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anybody else. You’re special and shit.”

“I wouldn’t wanna do it with anybody else either,” Carina says. “You’re special too. So special.”

Nebula tries not to look too pleased. “So I mean, we can look for real rings later if you want. I wasn’t gonna do this in public but Google said that’s what usually happens, so.”

“You Googled it?” Carina asks, chuckling.

“Well, I’ve never done it before. I wanted to do it right,” says Nebula, shrugging. “I figured you’d like that.”

“I do,” Carina assures. “I really… I just can’t believe it.”

“What, me proposing or me Googling how to do it?”

“The Googling makes sense,” Carina says slyly. “The proposing… I dunno, I guess I just thought you’d never want to.”

“I mean I don’t wanna have a big fancy wedding or anything, but being married sounds okay. If it’s you.” Nebula squeezes her hand.

“It’ll be nice,” Carina agrees. “I just… you’re not usually into demonstrative stuff.”

Nebula shrugs again. “I thought about it some. Making it legal and shit means even if something bad goes down, it might not be _so_ bad. Plus, I don’t want you going anywhere,” she says with a smirk.

“I would never,” Carina says, mock-offended. “I’m yours, and stuff.” She shrugs self-effacingly.

“Thanks,” says Nebula. “Same for me, okay?”

Carina nods. “So we should do it soon, but I need a dress.”

“Shit. Did you wanna do like, the fancy wedding dress kind of thing? I guess I should’ve asked.”

“Honestly?” Carina asks, laughing. “Honestly I like looking at those but I don’t think I’d like them on me. I just want to get _something_. Like what I always wear but white, that sort of thing.’

Nodding, Nebula says, “Makes sense. I dunno. I guess we hadn’t talked about it so I wasn’t sure if you wanted something fancy.”

“Not really,” Carina shrugs. “I want it to be nice for both of us. Fancy wouldn’t be nice for you.”

Nebula snorts. “Yup. I mean, I guess you’d look good in one if you wanted one, but thanks.”

“Thanks to you,” Carina teases. “I mean, we could go try some on just for fun, but I don’t really need that.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve got some stuff at home I can wear. I guess it’s wedding-type clothes. Where were you gonna go?”

“I mean, David’s Bridal, for fun, the internet for real,” Carina says.

“Alright,” says Nebula. “And maybe after this we can, I dunno, look for rings online too or something.”

“That sounds really nice,” Carina says. “Are you sure you don’t mind…?”

“Nah. It’s okay if it’s you.”

“But everyone will be able to see,” Carina teases.

Nebula smirks and rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna get a black one. It’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Carina remarks. “I’d hate to disturb your aesthetic.”

“I like you snarky,” says Nebula.

“It happens occasionally,” Carina shrugs blithely.

 

* * *

 

“So I dunno where to look for rings,” Nebula says once they’re back at Carina’s place.

“Well, if you’re so set on getting a black one why don’t we just start by looking up ‘black wedding rings’?” Carina suggests, tossing her purse down.

Nebula opens Carina’s laptop and starts searching. “What about you, anything in particular you want?”

“Nothing too traditional,” Carina says. “Those always looked boring to me.”

Nebula nods. “Oh hey, I know what to look for,” she says with a sly smile, googling “rainbow wedding rings.” “Fuck, there’s an entire website of them!”

Carina blushes. “Those are pretty,” she admits.

“Here. I think this is right up your alley,” Nebula says, handing her the laptop.

Carina starts browsing, chewing her bottom lip all the while. “They’re pretty in your face,” she says. “I like that.”

“You would,” says Nebula fondly. “Prices aren’t too bad, either.”

“No,” Carina agrees. “I think we could manage that.”

“Don’t suppose they have any black ones?”

“We can check,” Carina says, and she searches. “A-ha!”

“Cool. I mean, you can finish, I’ll look when you’re done.” Nebula leans her head on Carina’s shoulder.

“That’s comfy,” Carina murmurs, going back to the rainbow rings and starting to look at styles.

Nebula grunts. “Glad you like it.”

“I do,” Carina promises. “It’ll be nice to do that every night.”

“Yeah, I guess it will,” murmurs Nebula. “Where do you wanna live, anyway? My place or yours? Or I guess we could find somewhere else.”

“House hunting sucks,” Carina points out. “It’s kind of stupid if we already have two places to choose from.”

“Good point. So, yours or mine?”

“Mine doesn’t have anyone else in it,” Carina says, “but yours is bigger and in a better neighborhood.”

“Yeah,” replies Nebula, “and it would probably annoy Gamora.” This makes her smile.

“I don’t want to annoy her too much,” Carina frets. “We’ll have to live with it.”

Nebula sits up and reaches for her hand. “It’ll be fine. She likes you. She’ll only get pissed that I didn’t tell her about it for like two days and then she’ll get over it.”

“You sure?” Carina asks.

“Yeah. Honestly, she’s probably gonna be happy you’ll be around to keep me in line or some shit.” Nebula smirks. “She’s secretly worried I’m gonna run off and do something bad enough to get myself thrown in jail. That’s why she likes you, you wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Please don’t run off and go to jail,” Carina says, although she knows it’s not a concern really. “I wouldn’t, I’d be too sad.”

“Jail sucks,” replies Nebula. “I mean, juvie sucked and that wasn’t even real jail. And I wouldn’t wanna make you sad, anyway.”

Carina squeezes Nebula’s hand. “Do you like this ring?” she asks, clicking on one with a row of rainbows flanked by rows of smaller crystal-looking stones.

“I mean, I would hate wearing it,” says Nebula, “but it totally fits you, so.”

“Thanks, I think,” Carina giggles.

Nebula chuckles. “Yeah. That’s nice, I guess. It’d be good on you.”

“Okay. I think that’s the one I want.”

“Cool. Lemme look at the black ones.” Nebula takes the laptop and opens another tab. “Ooh, nice, a whole section.”

“How perfect for you,” Carina says playfully.

Nebula bumps her shoulder and scrolls through it. Eventually she hovers over one with a single black stone. “I like this one,” she says. “It’s not flashy. It’s also less than a hundred bucks.”

“It definitely is that,” Carina agrees. “But it doesn’t look cheap, either.”

“Nope. So, those two, then?”

“These two,” Carina says. “I’m excited.”

“Yeah,” says Nebula, actually smiling. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

“Thanks guys,” Moira says to close the session, as the group starts to collect their things. “No session next week, I’ll be out of town for the holidays, but if any of you have an emergency you can text me to talk.”

“Why do you celebrate Thanksgiving?” Laura asks, tilting her head. “You’re not American.”

Moria chuckles. “I don’t usually, but my dear friend Sean a few states over has offered to let me stay with his family for the weekend, and I’ve gotten a very good deal on plane tickets. It’ll be nice to see him again, it’s been awhile.”

“That sounds really nice,” Kara says. “I hope you have a good time.”

“Thank you. I hope the rest of you have a good time too. May I ask why you’re all dressed up today?” Moira raises an eyebrow at the six of them, who are wearing much nicer outfits and looking more put-together than most of them usually are. “Is there an occasion I missed?”

Carina blushes. “It seemed like fun,” she says shyly.

“Just somethin’ different,” says Rogue, shrugging.

Moira doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she shrugs too. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you in two weeks then, aye?”

“Yup,” says MJ, smirking.

They leave together, and barely get outside before they all burst into giggles (or in Nebula’s case, a satisfied smirk). “I don’t think she bought it,” says Laura, grinning. “Those weren’t very convincing lies.”

“But she wouldn’t guess this,” Rogue points out. “She’s gonna be _real_ surprised in a couple weeks!”

Nebula looks almost excited. “Cool. She won’t get mad or anything, but the look on her face’ll be funny.”

“She won’t be bothered that we didn’t invite her, right?” Carina asks.

“Nah. She knows we’re pretty private and shit. We can show her pictures.” Nebula shrugs. “It’ll be fine with just you guys and the other four.”

Kara smiles. “Thank you guys for letting me invite Karen,” she says.

“I mean, what kind of assholes would we be if we didn’t let you invite your girlfriend?” Nebula says. “Plus, she’s cool. She pulled a gun on Shithead. I like her.”

“I dunno, you might have wanted it to be really small,” Kara murmurs, shrugging. “But - yeah. She definitely did do that. She’s… she kinda kicks ass.”

“Gross,” sing-songs MJ playfully. “You guys are disgustingly cute.”

“I mean, it’s not like we’re trying to be,” Kara smirks. “It just happens.”

They make their way over to Knowhere, which is about a five-minute walk, and Rogue texts Darcy that they’re on their way. “She says she, Karen and Cess just got there and are hanging out in the car blasting shitty pop music.”

“Incredible,” Kara laughs.

“Can you _imagine_ how ridiculous it would be if Quill found out?” Carina giggles.

“Christ, he’d try to crash and then stand outside making stupid sad faces when we kicked him out,” says Nebula, snorting. “He’s already gonna be so annoying when he finds out. I bet he has a whole stupid playlist of oldies he’d try to make me play.”

“Good luck with that,” snickers MJ. “Does Gamora know anything?”

Nebula smirks. “Nope. She’s gonna find out tonight when we head home.”

“You still think it’ll be okay?” Carina presses.

“It will,” Nebula says, taking her hand. “She hates weddings as much as I do, so honestly, I’m doing her a favor not inviting her.”

“Okay,” Carina says. “I just… you know.”

Nebula nods. “It’ll be fine, promise.”

When they arrive, the only car in the parking lot is Darcy’s, since Knowhere closes early on Thursdays and Quill’s long gone for the day. “Hey, fancy pants...es!” Darcy calls, hopping out of her car and grinning. (It’s been a long day. She might have already opened the celebratory wine.)

“Hey,” Rogue says with a wave, coming over for a kiss. Nebula rolls her eyes and goes to unlock the empty part of the building, which they’re using because they can and nobody will care as long as they put everything back.

“You guys look so freakin’ cute,” Karen announces, going to Kara’s side and grabbing her hand.

“Thanks,” says Nebula, glancing at Carina, who’s wearing an actual white dress as opposed to her vest-and-shirt combo. “She’s better at this than I am, so.”

Carina blushes. “It’s not so fancy, I just… thought we should at least do something.”

“It works,” Karen promises. “It’s charming and stuff.”

Nebula nods her thanks. “So, I guess we can just set up chairs over here,” she says, gesturing. “Then we’ve got the table over there for the pizzas and stuff later. Sorry, we’re not classy.”

“Classy enough for me,” Darcy giggles, raising the bottle of wine in a toast.

Everyone is mostly quiet while they set up, arranging chairs for the guests and making sure everything is settled. They’re almost ready to go when there’s a knock on the door.

“Oh, there she is,” says Nebula, going over to open the door. “I was starting to wonder if we were gonna have to do it with the windows uncovered and shit.”

“Hello!” Raina croons as she (easily more dressed up than any of the guests) walks in. “I brought your sheets just like you asked. Very clever idea.”

“Thanks,” Carina giggles, coming over to take the stack.

Cessily frowns. “Sheets?”

“Yeah, we’re using them to cover the windows.” Nebula nods at the plate glass windows at the front of the building. “I figured, she’s got a shitton of flower things, she must have bedsheets, and flowers are kind of wedding-y. That way people can’t snoop on us.”

Laura nods. “That’s smart.”

“Someone come help me hang these up,” Carina says.

“That means me, doesn’t it?” Karen asks with a playful sigh. Between her natural height and her heels, she’s the tallest one in the room, but she doesn’t really mind pinning the sheets above the windows.

“This everyone?” Raina asks, taking a look around.

MJ nods. “They wanted to go with the minimum possible. Y’all are the chosen few.”

“How dramatic,” Raina giggles.

“Technically, wouldn’t the minimum just be one?” Kara asks, grinning.

Nebula snorts. “Yeah, but we like you guys or whatever, so.”

Once everyone is seated, Nebula and Carina take their places in front of MJ, who stands behind the music stand Darcy brought and glances down at the sheet of paper they’ve written their vows on. “Hey everybody,” she says, even though it’s maybe a little unnecessary. “So we’ve all known Carina and Nebula for a pretty long time, and most of us know about their histories from group and stuff. I won’t go on for a long time because it’ll embarrass them and Nebula would probably kill me, but we all know how much they love each other. Don’t make that face, Nebula, I’m almost done. Anyway, when she asked me to get ordained last week I thought it was kinda crazy at first, but this actually makes perfect sense. They’re not traditional and they never have been, so why not have a secret wedding with half a dozen of their best friends? And I’m honored they asked me. Nebula, you have the ring?”

“Yeah,” says Nebula, who sounds like she’s actually feeling an emotion besides disdain.

“Okay, repeat after me. Carina, I will trust you and respect you, and I give you my promise to be by your side forever, loving you regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

Nebula does, slipping the ring on Carina’s finger and actually smiling a little bit (and not even glancing around to death-glare everyone for looking).

MJ seems amused by this, but doesn’t comment on it. “Carina, repeat after me.”

Carina has been crying since the end of MJ’s speech, but she nods.

“Nebula, I will trust you and respect you, and I give you my promise to be by your side forever, loving you regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

Carina repeats this, only choking on her words twice, and slips the ring on Nebula’s finger.

“I pronounce you married. Go ahead and kiss,” MJ says, grinning.

Nebula grabs Carina’s face and kisses her, while the others applaud and cheer (particularly Darcy, who had been sneaking more wine).

“Congratulations, guys,” MJ adds. “Short enough for you, Nebula?”

“Yeah,” says Nebula. She’s got an arm around Carina’s waist and looks almost pleased. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, thank all of you,” Carina sniffles. “This was really, really… lovely.”

“We’re glad,” Kara says, squeezing Karen’s hand.

“I have a surprise!” Darcy shouts, then running outside.

Rogue giggles. “I forgot about that.”

“What?” Nebula narrows her eyes. “What’d she do?”

“You’ll like it,” Laura says. “We all contributed to it.”

“I called for pizza, but while we’re waiting, cake!” Darcy exclaims as she walks back in, holding a pastry box.

“Cake?” Carina asks, sounding like she’s about to cry again.

“Yeah, did you guys know there’s an actual nebula called the Carina Nebula? I was looking something else up and found out and lost my shit,” MJ says. “So then I texted Darcy ‘cause she knows how to order cakes and stuff…”

“And here!” Darcy giggles, opening the box dramatically.

Nebula actually looks surprised. “Holy shit. Is it actually those colors?”

MJ nods. “Depending on the picture, but most of them showed at least the pink or the blue. Wild, huh?”

Carina sniffles loudly. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaims, swiping at her eyes.

“Thank you,” says Nebula, too stunned to pretend she’s not impressed (and a little touched). “That was… really cool of you guys.”

“You can take pictures if you want,” Darcy says. “I already took a bunch, though. Figured that way we could get straight to the enjoying ourselves part and skip the picture part.”

Rogue chuckles. “She got the whole ceremony on video too, and had me takin’ regular pictures, so. Got those for you too.”

“Thank you so much,” Carina murmurs. “I want to hug every single one of you.”

Nebula smirks. “What the hell, I’ll hug you guys too.”

 

* * *

 

Nebula and Carina end up getting back to Nebula and Gamora’s house around 11, and Nebula opens the door and calls, “Hey Gamora, you back from your dumb date yet?”

“It wasn’t dumb, and I’ll remind you it was your idea I go out tonight anyway,” Gamora yells from the living room.

Nebula snorts. “Anyway, we’re back!”

“We?” Gamora asks, and they can hear her practically scrambling out to the hall. “Is Carina staying over tonight?”

“Well…” Carina begins, blushing.

“Yeah, so we just got married,” Nebula says, holding up her left hand to show off her ring. “So Carina’s gonna live here now and work on moving her shit out of her place before her lease expires next year.”

Gamora’s jaw drops. “You did _what_?”

“Got married,” Nebula replies with a shrug. “MJ officiated. We just used the spare building and ordered pizza afterwards and stuff. Figured it was a good idea to make it legal in case something weird happens.”

“Well, shit,” Gamora says, very eloquently. “You’ve thought this through?”

Nebula nods. “Yeah. It’s not like either of us are going anywhere. And I know _you_ don’t want me ending up with anybody else.” She pulls Carina a little closer protectively. “So,” she adds with a smirk, “can we have the master bedroom now?”

“We’ll see,” Gamora says, trying to sound stern and completely failing. She waits a beat before adding, “C’mere then, Carina,” and holding her arm out.

Carina blinks, surprised. “Okay,” she mumbles.

“Thank you for being right for her,” Gamora whispers as she gives Carina a hug. “I hope you make each other happy.”

“Ugh,” groans Nebula. “Are you done interrogating us now, can we go?”

“Yeah,” Gamora says, rolling her eyes as she steps back. “I guess I should congratulate you first, though.”

“Thanks,” says Nebula with an almost imperceptible smile. “They got us cake too. I put it in the fridge in the garage, it’s up for grabs.”

“Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow,” Gamora says. “Good night, you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Carina's ring](https://www.equalli.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/532x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/2/0/2015_11_19_124g-s-1456-925_3.jpg); [Nebula's ring](https://www.equalli.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/532x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/2/0/2015_11_14_209g-s-_1_218.jpg). 
> 
> Also the Carina Nebula is a [real thing](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ea/Carina_Nebula.jpg) and we just learned it exists about a month ago. We started writing this crackship because we thought they'd be cute and it was entirely coincidental. The world is an amazing place.
> 
> Finally, this universe is one where everything isn't going to hell like it is in ours, but in a couple weeks life is going to imitate art, at least where this chapter is concerned. Hooray for secret weddings!


	122. you got your wolves in their clothes whispering Hollywood's name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace remakes Suicide Squad, and most of the mall helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characterizations are heavily influenced by Batman: The Animated Series, various comics, and the Adam West Batman TV show, since nobody at Warner Bros knows how to write any of them, apparently.

**SCENE 1**

**Amanda Waller’s office. She is sitting at her desk talking to a government agent. She has no time for nonsense.**

**(To the left of the desk, there is a large cardboard frame.)**

 

* * *

 

“So, Deputy Director Morgan, here’s my plan,” Akela says to Fandral.

“I’m listening,” says Fandral. He fights the urge to itch his neck, which is irritated by the suit he’s wearing.

“To stop the worst bad guys, we should use other bad guys. They won’t be afraid to do really bad things because they’re already bad guys anyway. I have a database of suggestions.”

“Oh?”

Akela pulls out a thick file folder and begins to read each profile that Ace carefully wrote out. “Floyd Lawton, AKA Deadshot. Master marksman, makes every shot.” Trip steps into the cardboard frame and pretends to shoot the camera.

“Dr. Harleen Quinzel, AKA Harley Quinn. Former associate of the Joker, trained psychiatrist, gymnastic abilities, oversize mallet.” Raina enters the frame with said (very cardboard) mallet, striking a pose not unlike an Olympic gymnast might at the end of her routine.

“George Harkness, AKA Captain Boomerang. Precise shot with a boomerang.” Akela is making sort of a sardonic face as she says this. Meanwhile, Hunter, wearing a jacket with a huge silly-looking collar, tosses a boomerang and doesn’t even pretend to catch it again.

“Chato Santana, AKA El Diablo. Pyrokinesis.” Joey holds a lighter open and looks menacing, since Mike told Ace they couldn’t use actual fire and Ace has to put the fire effects in later.

“William Tockman, AKA Clock King. Repeat bank robber, obsession with time and clocks.” Tony adjusts his fake monocle and checks his pocket watch.

“Caitlin Snow, AKA Killer Frost. Ice generation and manipulation, trained neuroscientist and biologist.” Jemma, wearing a ridiculous ice-blue wig, pretends to shoot ice out of her fingers (that will also have to be added in post-production).

“Bette Sans Souci, AKA Plastique. Explosive force projection.” MJ pretends to charge up a ball with energy and then tosses it and grins when it “explodes.”

“Nanaue, AKA King Shark. Superhuman strength and endurance, regeneration abilities, general sharklike appearance and abilities.” This is Helen, wearing her Left Shark costume and mugging at the camera like she’s going to start a fight with it.

“Barbara Ann Minerva, AKA Cheetah. Appearance and abilities of a cheetah, including superhuman speed.” Laura A. runs into the shot, then stops to pose and flaunt her cartoonishly face-painted spots.

“Leslie Willis, AKA Livewire. Living electricity, magnetism abilities.” Elektra, wearing as close to all-blue as she can and sporting an electric blue face, smoulders at the camera.

“And finally, the Music Meister, name unknown. Hypnotic voice.” Offscreen, Steve sings “I’m the Music Meister and I’m here to settle the scooooore!” while Clint mouths along. (Clint can’t sing.)

Fandral nods slowly. “And do all of these people have to be on it?”

“The more people we have, the better chances we have,” explains Akela. “This is a very dangerous threat.”

“I see. How will you get them to help? They’re prisoners.”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 2**

**A courtyard, at the prison.**

 

* * *

 

This courtyard, of course, is the Knowhere parking lot with folding chairs set up in neat rows, and with very little prodding from their handlers (Nebula and Gamora, their faces covered well enough that nobody who doesn’t already know will figure it out) the actors playing prisoners, all of them wearing grocery store plastic handcuffs and low-budget approximations of prison uniforms, file onscreen and take those seats.

“Hello, everyone,” says Akela. “You’re all here because you’ve done some very bad things. Would you like a chance to do good things?”

The assembled group mumbles a variety of answers and looks sulky.

“We will reduce your jail sentences too,” adds Akela.

They look a little more interested at that. Finally Trip nods. “Tell me more,” he says.

“I’m interested,” says Joey.

“Why should we?” asks Raina, affecting an accent that’s still more consistent than Margot Robbie’s.

Akela looks annoyed, but says, “We have a serious problem that you can help with.”

“What kinda problem?” Raina presses.

“Well…”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 3**

**An archaeological dig site, somewhere in Eastern Europe.**

 

* * *

 

“Make sure to get the sign!” Ace instructs seriously as Gamora starts to film the so-called dig site (really a separate area outside). Said sign is a KEEP OUT sign in the Cyrillic alphabet that was printed off of the internet, but it works to establish the location so the audience knows.

Gamora looks at Mike. “There are worse ideas,” she mutters, smirking.

Mike snickers. “I mean, he looked it up himself. It’s not a bad visual cue.”

Wanda, in what appears to be a hiking outfit (possibly?), pops out from the trees and wanders over to rummage around in the pile of rocks and debris that has been arranged carefully. She comes across an “urn” (really a plastic vase that has been painted) and examines it, then looks inside. Then she pretends to fall back and rolls around on the ground for a minute, making faces as if she’s in pain, and when she stands back up she moves completely differently, as if she’s an alien who is trying to comprehend how humans move.

“Cut!” Ace calls.

 

* * *

 

“She was possessed by an ancient spirit and now she calls herself Enchantress,” Akela says. “We have to stop her before she finds her brother. He’s dead, but his spirit is trapped in an artifact in downtown Gotham and if she finds it and can get him a body they will be unstoppable together.”

“Might be funny,” Raina says casually.

Akela glares at her. “It would _not_ be funny, it would be very bad. They would end the world together. I don’t think you want that.”

“I _guess_ ,” Raina sighs.

Jemma blows fake hair out of her face and says, in her fake-but-decent American accent, “This world sucks, but it probably shouldn’t end.”

“What do we have to do?” Lance asks, twirling his boomerang idly.

“We’d like you all to work together as a team,” says Akela.

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 4**

**An empty hallway. Nighttime.**

 

* * *

 

“Super lucky her brother’s spirit artifact happened to be here, of all the cities,” Raina singsongs. She is now clad in an outfit that more closely resembles Trish’s Halloween costume than the mess from the actual movie, gleefully twirling that mallet.

Tony ducks out of the way, since the mallet is swinging dangerously close to him. “What’s the plan when we find her?” he asks. “She’s got crazy spirit powers and we have guns and a mallet and a magic voice.”

Elektra pretends to zap him with her finger and he pretends to be shocked and jumps. “You don’t have _any_ powers,” she says smugly. Tony makes a face at her.

Trip shrugs. “Waller said we have to stop her from finding him. I guess we just do that.”

“Good thing we have special earplugs,” says Hunter, grinning and nudging Clint, who glares at him.

“This is the right room, right?” asks MJ.

“Yeah,” says Laura. “It’s supposed to be… that… urn.” She points, but said urn is tipped over.

From offscreen, Wanda laughs, and everyone looks over (and the camera follows their looks) to where she and Pietro are standing, both grinning evilly. “You’re too late!” says Wanda, very dramatically. “We will rule this world!”

“I thought you wanted to end it,” Raina calls.

Wanda scowls. “Well, either way, we’ll end _you!_ ” She extends her fingers as if shooting magic at them, and Clint reacts as if he’s being knocked backwards.

“Hey, stop that!” Joey says, shooting “fire” at Pietro, who screams as if he’s being burned and pretends to shoot fire magic back at him.

“Silly boys,” Jemma calls, striking a pose, “don’t fight fire with fire, fight fire with _ice_!” She pretends to join the battle with her own spontaneously created “ice.”

Pietro looks surprised. “That’s cheating!”

Clint grins and pretends to sing a note, which Steve is actually singing, and then sings “Juuuuuump out the windooooooow!” when Wanda and Pietro look at him. Pietro walks over and jumps out the window, onto the mattress waiting below, but just as Wanda reaches the window Clint stops “singing” and she blinks, dazed. “What..?” She looks out the window and screams “ _Noooooo!”_

“Sorry,” says Clint, “but you were going to end the world, so.”

Wanda screams and shoots more magic at them, but Jemma blocks it with her “ice”. Trip aims a gun at her. “Listen,” he says, “our boss told us to bring you back and put you in jail. If you join our team, there might be less jail.”

“You killed my brother! Why should I join you?”

“I said I was sorry!” says Clint.

“Look,” Jemma says, trying for serious. “My husband died. I know how bad it is.”

“Did your husband jump out a window because someone told him to?” Wanda asks, glaring.

“Well, no,” Jemma murmurs, “but I still know how awful loss is.”

“If I join your team for a little while, will you never bother me again?”

“Nobody will make you gyrate,” Raina offers helpfully.

Wanda makes a face. “I don’t like gyrating very much. I’ll join, but I get to leave whenever I want.”

“Whatever,” says Lance. “Come meet our boss. She’s not that bad. For a boss.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 5**

**Back at the base.**

 

* * *

 

“You’re an archaeologist, right?” Jemma asks Wanda, making it sound… a little more normal.

Wanda looks a little puzzled, but says “June Moone, the person whose body I’m occupying, is an archaeologist.”

“Well, okay, I guess that’s what I meant,” Jemma says. “Close enough. That’s really interesting. I am a bioengineer and neuroscientist.”

“I’m a computer scientist,” says MJ, smiling. “It’s nice to meet other lady scientists!”

Raina grins. “I bet none of you knew I’m a psychiatrist,” she says, with a big obvious grin that implies that she knows they all know.

Tony rolls his eyes. “We _know_ ,” he says. “You tell us all the time.”

“Someone’s got pent-up anger,” Raina replies blithely.

Just then Akela walks up to meet them. “You’re back,” she says, then she notices Wanda. “What is _she_ doing here? She should be in handcuffs! Or dead!”

“We got someone else to join up,” Raina chirps.

“I see that,” says Akela. “You were supposed to bring her back so I could put her in jail, not have her join the team.”

“Putting her in jail is a terrible idea,” Trip says. “All she’ll do is get out again. If she’s on our team, we can watch her. Plus, she’s agreed not to destroy the world anymore.”

“Yes,” hisses Wanda, not looking very happy. “I won’t do that.”

“I took care of her brother,” says Clint. “And then I said I was sorry. But he won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Well, at least you did something right,” Akela says.

Then they all pretend to hear a loud boom (Ace will edit it in later). “What was that?” Joey asks. They all turn and run outside.

At this point, Mike pauses the camera and they move outside, where Ace has constructed a reasonable facsimile of a cardboard church, which now has a giant scorched hole in it. “Oh my god!” says Amanda Waller. “What the hell happened?”

“Hole-y,” Raina says, frowning.

“What?” Trip asks.

“Because it’s a hole in a church,” Raina explains, absently touching the actually-screen-accurate “Daddy’s li’l monster” fake tattoo above her breast. (There’s a plan.)

“How do you know that’s what it means?” Elektra asks.

“My puddin’ likes bad puns,” Raina says.

Tony makes a face. “Your boyfriend’s jokes are terrible.”

Raina huffs, clearly offended by this, and opens her mouth to reply, but Elektra interrupts with “Well, _your_ suit looks stupid.”

“No it isn’t,” replies Tony, pouting.

Clint, who is wearing a gaudy purple suit, chimes in, “His suit isn’t stupid. _Your_ costume is stupid.”

“Not as stupid as yours,” says MJ.

Everyone starts yelling at once, with each team member apparently picking a side, and then Akela yells “Everyone stop fighting right now! Or you _all_ go back in jail!”

“Well, that’s not very fair,” Jemma mutters.

“You’re all being ridiculous!” Akela says, glaring sternly. “We have a dangerous criminal to catch. Either you stop yelling at each other and agree to help me, or you’re going back to jail!”

“If we stop him, can we get less jail?” Trip asks.

“Fine,” sighs Akela. “But you have to go find him right now.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 6**

**A villains’ bar.**

 

* * *

 

The group enters, slightly dressed down, and after letting the (non-noteworthy, instrumental, clublike) music play for a second, Raina announces, “Mistah J likes to hang out here.”

Wanda curls her lip. “This seems like a place he would like,” she says, looking around.

“Let’s split up and look for him,” Trip says, and the group wanders off in different directions.

Raina meanders toward the edge of the club (this is the front window with a dark, solid-color sheet pinned to it this time) and glances around with a thoughtful expression. Then Fandral - wearing a white shirt, purple suspenders, a terrible green wig, and white facepaint, along with _Damaged_ across his forehead - slips up behind her. “Hey, baby,” he says. “Long time no see.”

“Mistah J,” Raina breathes, staring wide-eyed at him.

“In the flesh!” says Fandral, throwing his arms open. “What, no kiss hello? Didn’t you get my message?”

Instinctively she walks into his waiting embrace, still looking more startled than anything. “We got it, all right.”

“I thought it was a nice touch. Pity there was nobody inside, but what can you do?” Fandral shrugs. “Now that we’re back together, let’s get out of here!”

“I’m makin’ friends, puddin’,” Raina murmurs, frowning.

“You don’t need friends if you’ve got me,” says Fandral, ruffling her hair. “The hyenas miss you.”

“I miss them,” she replies earnestly.

“C’mon, puddin’,” says Fandral. “Let’s go home, huh?”

“Well…”

In what seems like one fluid movement, then, Lorelei (dressed to the nines in green) waltzes up and steers Raina to the side. “Hey there,” she hums. “Long time no see.”

“I was only outta the game for a month or two,” Raina says, glancing back over her shoulder at Fandral. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“Still,” Lorelei purrs. It goes without saying that she’s playing this much sexier than Ace wrote it. “Glad to see you. Less glad to see the company you’re keeping.”

“But he’s Mistah J,” Raina insists.

“We’re going to go across the room and talk without him,” Lorelei says firmly.

“We were talking,” whines Fandral. “Who are _you_ , anyway?”

“Name’s Ivy,” Lorelei says. “I’m an old friend of Harley’s. Bye now.” And she propels Raina across the “club” (the empty store with the lights turned down and anyone who could be convinced to cameo doing so). “Honestly, have a little common sense.”

Fandral tries to follow them, scowling, but Lorelei turns and slaps him on the wrist with her “vines” (a green feather boa). “Excuse you,” she hisses. Fandral sticks his tongue out at her and slinks away.

“Don’t go crawling back to him,” Lorelei tells Raina. “He’s not a nice guy.”

Understatement of the century, but this was written by a nine-year-old.

Elektra comes over. “Did you find him?” she asks.

“He came over to talk to me, but Ivy pulled me away,” Raina says.

“Did he tell you to come with him?” Elektra asks. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“He tried,” Lorelei says, rolling her eyes. “That’s why I pulled her away.”

“He was talkin’ about my babies,” Raina mutters petulantly.

“We can get them back later,” Lorelei promises, surprisingly gentle.

“Anyway, where did he go?” Elektra asks.

“He _was_ right over there,” Lorelei says disdainfully, waving behind them.

“Oh, no, we were supposed to catch him!” Jemma exclaims, approaching and trying not to look terribly intimidated.

“Do you wanna join our team?” Raina asks Lorelei. “We’re gonna help catch Mistah J and put him in jail for our boss.”

“I’m not much of a team player,” Lorelei says warily.

“Who is this?” Jemma asks. (Did Ace write Killer Frost as Caitlin Snow with a wig on? Yes, he did.) “I’m missing something.”

“This is Ivy,” Raina says, leaning toward Lorelei a bit. “We’re friends. She looks out for me sometimes.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lorelei replies, but fondly.

“Okay, but what happened with the Joker?” asked Elektra. “Why did he get away?”

“He was trying to get his doll back,” Lorelei explains, rolling her eyes (and with definitely an edge to her voice that Ace didn’t plan for, but it works). “I had to get her away.”

MJ comes over and frowns. “Joker got away? That’s bad.”

“It’s better than the alternative,” Lorelei mutters, looking disapprovingly at Raina, who pouts.

MJ looks over at Lorelei and grins. “You should join us,” she says, grinning. “It seems like you don’t like the Joker much either. You might even get to hit him!”

“Hm,” Lorelei says. “Only if your grand plan is smarter than this one.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 7**

**Back at base.**

 

* * *

 

The whole group, including Akela, are sitting around in her fake office (the much-used desk, some maps stuck to the wall behind her with random pushpins in them because that looks strategic), all lounging comfortably enough that Akela looks annoyed when she remembers to.

“And what did you all learn from this failure?” Akela asks.

“I figured out what Mistah J’s plan is,” Raina says.

“Oh?” Akela asks, raising an eyebrow.

“He wants to make Batman come and get him,” Raina says. “And he wants to tell dumb jokes.”

Tony scowls. “Your boyfriend has stupid plans. And you have pretty bad taste in boyfriends.”

“Nobody asked you, Watch,” Lorelei scowls. “Everyone’s made a few bad decisions. Isn’t the whole point of this little club to make up for those?” She shrugs.

“Yes,” says Akela, looking sternly at both of them. “This is not a productive discussion.”

“The Joker’s plan is silly,” Laura says. “We should still stop it.”

“Why do you think that’s his plan?” Akela asks Raina.

“That’s always his plan,” Raina sighs.

“I can’t believe this guy is Gotham’s most wanted,” scoffs Clint. “I tried to take over the world! Batman caught me, but still.”

Helen turns to him and growls, “And _you_ can be foiled by special earplugs.”

Clint pouts. “Well, you’re a giant shark!”

“I could eat you,” she points out. “But I think you’d taste bad.”

“No one is going to eat anyone else,” says Akela.

“We should prepare,” Jemma suggests.

“Good idea,” says Trip. “Let’s do that.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 8**

**A training room.**

 

* * *

 

Everyone has changed into color-coded exercise clothes (not a pair of short shorts or a crop top in sight, though) and they’re standing around the now-empty store.

“Are we going to play the _Rocky_ theme now?” asks Joey, smirking.

“We’d hafta pay too much for the rights,” Raina quips. (It’s not in the script but she expects Ace will forgive her for saying it.)

Lance snorts. “Shall I just toss my boomerang around, then?”

Shrugging, Trip replies, “Whatever you want. You know what the Joker does.”

Mike films them doing a variety of “training” exercises: Lance, for lack of a better idea, tosses the boomerang around (and mostly catches it, and only gets hit in the face once); Wanda murmurs Latin phrases that Ace had dutifully looked up and moves her hands as if she is sending out spells; Joey plays around with a lighter and pretends to shoot fire out of his hands. Clint pretends to sing scales (with Steve’s help), Laura runs around the room trying not to look too confused, and Trip “shoots” at a variety of targets (it’s a BB gun). In a later scene, MJ pretends to “charge” his bullets as he’s shooting them, and later Ace will add in the explosive effects when they hit their targets.

Tony, since Clock King has no powers, finds himself being the living dummy for Raina, Lorelei, and Helen, who take turns hitting him with the oversize hammer, “vines,” and fins, alternatively. (They might be hitting a little harder than Ace intended.) The Livewire and Killer Frost effects will be put in later, but Elektra and Jemma pretend to work together to “electrocute” him, which sends him sprawling to the ground. He gets up, glaring at them.

“No one told me this guy didn’t have any powers,” Tony grumbles between takes.

“Lots of us don’t really have powers,” Raina says brightly. “You just don’t have any good weapons either.”

“I didn’t hit too hard, did I?” Helen asks sweetly, emerging from her shark costume to take a drink of water.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m fine,” he says, though he still looks sulky.

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 9**

**A different bar.**

 

* * *

 

“It’s weird how Waller let us go out for a drink,” says Joey, downing a glass of Coke (that is supposed to look like whiskey).

“I’m sure she has a reason,” Jemma replies solemnly.

“I don’t care why,” says Lance. “I’m gonna go play pool.” He gets up and goes over to where Drax and Volstagg are pretending to play a game of pool (using one of Tony’s tables, which he let Ace borrow for this scene since he wanted to watch Lance get fake-punched in the face).

“He’s not going to win at pool,” Laura remarks, glancing over.

“Do we really need that guy?” growls Helen. “What does he even do?”

“He hits things with toys,” Raina says. “Most of us have better toys than him.”

Trip shrugs. “Waller put him on the team for a reason, I guess.”

They sip from their drinks for a few seconds before there’s a commotion behind them, and Drax grabs Lance by the shirt. “What’d you say about my momma?!” he yells.

“I said you shoot pool even worse than your momma,” said Lance. Drax punches him in the face (it’s meant to be a fake punch, but since it’s Drax he’ll probably still have a bruise somewhere).

“Well, shoot,” Raina hums, giggling.

Lance and Drax begin brawling on the ground, grunting and fake-punching each other, and Elektra raises an eyebrow. “I guess we should help him?”

“Do we have to?” asks Tony, downing another “shot.”

“Yes,” says Jemma, though she sounds unconvinced.

“Waller would probably not want him to die in a barfight,” sighs Trip, getting up off his stool. “Hey!” he calls. “Stop beating up our...teammate.”

Drax looks up and laughs. “Who’s gonna stop me, _you_?”

“Yup,” says Trip, taking out his gun and “shooting” Drax in the head.

“Oh, look,” Lorelei drawls. “They’re all getting into it.”

“I guess we better join in,” says MJ, jumping down and acting like she’s charging up her glass to throw at someone.

Since Ace has only ever seen barfights in movies, he wasn’t very specific about what happens in this one, so they all just sort of make it up and fight all the extras who are on set playing the bar patrons (Drax, Volstagg, Gamora, T’Challa, Jessica, Luke, and Maria) as best they can. Finally everyone is either “dead” or knocked out, and the Squad members look at each other.

“So now what?” Raina asks.

Akela enters, stepping over Jessica. “Now you’re ready to work as a team,” she says, smirking. “Let’s go get him.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 10**

**FLASHBACK: Batman and Amanda Waller sit at her desk.**

**TITLE CARD: Earlier that week.**

 

* * *

 

“You had something to discuss with me?” asks Akela.

Mike, dressed in his Batman costume, hands Akela an envelope. “I got this message yesterday. I drove over here because I thought you should see it.”

Akela opens the envelope and pulls out a piece of paper with a message spelled out in comically mismatched letters cut from magazines. I’M JUST TOYING WITH YOU, BATSY! COME AND VISIT ME AND WE’LL HAVE A BALL! “You think it’s from him?” she asks.

“Yes,” says Mike with a nod. “He obviously means the Laffco Toy Factory in Gotham. It was abandoned years ago. You’ve got a team together, right?”

“Sort of,” Akela says. “He’s looking for you, though. Shouldn’t you go after him?”

“I don’t have time,” Mike explains. “I accidentally adopted a child. Also, if I fight him that’s giving him what he wants. If you think your team can handle him, I’m happy to give them the chance.”

“Okay.” Akela nods. “I’ll talk to them about it. I’ll call you if we need you.”

“I hope you won’t,” says Mike, getting up to leave.

 

* * *

  

**NOW: The bar.**

 

* * *

  

“So it seems you were right,” Akela says to Raina. “He wants to lure out Batman.”

“It’s kinda his thing,” Raina agrees solemnly.

“We need you to go catch him instead,” Akela says. “He won’t expect that.”

Lance grins. “Let’s catch us a crazy!”

“Technically the Joker has some fairly extreme neurochemical imbalances, but that’s still a bit simplistic,” Jemma babbles before she can stop herself. It wasn’t in the script. It just happened.

 

* * *

 

**TITLE CARD: LAFFCO TOY FACTORY, GOTHAM**

 

* * *

  

“Everyone ready?” asks Trip, loading his BB gun.

“Yes,” says Elektra, grinning and moving her arms like she’s playing with electricity.

“Where is he?” Joey asks.

Raina stops and notices a trail of torn-apart doll parts going in one direction. “This way,” she says confidently. “He’s showin’ off.”

MJ curls her lip. “That’s… creepy.”

“He’s a creep,” Lorelei replies, shrugging.

“Are you still up for this?” Jemma asks.

“I kinda have to be, don’t I?” Raina replies with a nervous giggle, then following the doll parts into the “next room” (there is a hallway made of cardboard and sheets).

“Harley, baby!” Fandral says. “You can watch me take down Batman!”

“I came to join your side again, puddin’!” Raina exclaims, grinning.

“Great! Sit down right over there, he’ll be here any minute.” Fandral points to a comically small chair that was clearly meant for a very small child.

Trying not to laugh (in an inappropriate way) Raina skips over to the chair and perches on it surprisingly delicately. “Missed you,” she says sweetly.

“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too,” says Fandral, rolling his eyes. He checks his wrist, which definitely doesn’t have a watch on it. “Where’s Batman?”

Quill, who is wearing a mesh top and way too much eyeliner, runs in and says, “Boss, there are people here!” He bugs his eyes out, in hopes this makes his character more interesting. He’s more than a little disappointed this is his only scene.

Raina turns her head away from the camera, stifling a laugh.

“Ooh, people!” Fandral grins manically and clasps his hands together.

But his face falls quickly when the rest of the Squad enters. Lorelei, looking all too smug, throws a feather boa at Fandral. Quickly, Gamora stops filming so Mike can run over and wrap the boa around Fandral while everyone else stays perfectly still, and then they’re at it again.

“Hey! You’re not Batman! That wasn’t an open invitation!” Fandral yelps.

Everyone who had agreed to be an extra (including most of the people from the bar and all of Team America) runs into the room, all wearing a variety of ridiculous masks. “Boss!” says Drax, who’s wearing a dog mask, and goes after Lorelei.

“No you don’t!” says Lance, throwing his boomerang and… missing spectacularly. That was in the script, but Lance isn’t very good at throwing it either. Then one of the henchmen “shoots” him and he sprawls to the ground.

“Oh no!” Laura - who’s nearest by - yells, running across the room.

Trip raises a gun and “shoots” the one who shot Lance, hitting them dead on. “That sucks,” he says.

From there, everyone starts in pretending to beat up the henchmen by doing virtually the exact same things they’d practiced in the montage. Joey pretends to “burn” some of the henchmen, and Jemma runs around pretending to blast a few of them with ice while Elektra runs behind her, “shocking” them.

“Well, that’s a shock,” deadpans Fandral, trying to squirm out of Lorelei’s “vine.”

As the scuffle continues in the background (Helen picks up Tony to use him as a battering ram at one point), the camera focuses on Raina, Lorelei, and Wanda, who are advancing on Fandral. He grins and says, “This has been just vine and dandy, but I’ll be going now,” and finally shrugs off the feather boa, starting to run away.

“No you won’t,” says Wanda, moving her hands. Fandral stops, as if being held in place by magic, and wobbles, yelling incoherently.

“Do it, Harl,” Lorelei murmurs, placing a hand on Raina’s arm.

Grinning, Raina twirls her mallet and approaches Fandral. “I don’t have a Bat for you,” she murmurs, low and altogether more coy than Ace knows to have intended, “but how about a hammer?” And she pops him on the head, definitely more realistically than suggested. He flops to the ground comically.

Meanwhile, Trip glances around to see that all the henchmen are either “knocked out” or gone. “Well, that was surprisingly easy. I’ll call Waller.”

“Clock King’s dead,” grunts Helen, shrugging her fins as best she can. “Oops.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 11**

**The Squad are all gathered inside a large house.**

 

* * *

 

Trip enters the house (which is, of course, Tony’s house), and MJ calls “How’s your daughter doing, Deadshot?”

“She’s good,” says Trip, smiling. He comes over to sit in the empty easy chair. Everyone else is sprawled in front of the TV: Helen, since her shark costume takes up so much space, has the other easy chair, Clint and Joey have their own smaller chairs, and Raina, Lorelei, Wanda, Jemma, MJ, Laura, and Elektra are all squeezed onto the large couch in the middle. Raina is tucked against Lorelei, reclining in that little amount of space they have, and her hand is very obviously resting on Lorelei’s thigh. Wanda is playing with Jemma’s hair. Everyone is wearing what are supposed to be tracker bracelets on their ankles, but are actually just jelly bracelets. (“They’re fancy,” Ace explained.)

“Help me convince them not to watch some pretentious European film,” whines Clint. “ _America’s Next Top Model_ is on!”

“No,” growls Helen. “NASCAR.”

“We’re not watching NASCAR,” says Wanda, pausing in her braiding to move her fingers menacingly.

“NASCAR is so repetitive,” Jemma murmurs, frowning.

“You’d think in a house this big we’d have more than one cable TV,” Raina giggles. Another notable thing is that the “Daddy’s Li’l Monster” tattoo has been inked over to read “I’m a motherfucking monster” like the Nicki Minaj rap.

Trip sighs. “We shouldn’t complain. This isn’t too bad, for house arrest.”

“Wasn’t a complaint,” Raina hums. “Just sayin’.”

“More important, we know that jerk is in jail,” Lorelei says, rolling her eyes. “A _real_ jail, not Arkham.”

Joey snickers. “Arkham sucks.” He reaches over to carefully steal the remote from Wanda and “change” the channel.

Wanda glares at him. “I said no NASCAR!”

“Just don’t pay attention,” Jemma says soothingly.

“Ah, home sweet home,” says Trip wryly.

“Pretty cozy, huh, Red?” Raina asks Lorelei, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

“Could be worse,” Lorelei says.

Meanwhile, Wanda has jumped on Joey and is pretending to start brawling with him.

“Oh boy!” says Helen gruffly. “Better than NASCAR!”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 12A**

**Team Arrow Headquarters.**

 

* * *

 

“Well,” Darcy says, shutting her laptop and tugging on her blond wig. “All of that definitely happened.”

“That looked like a mess,” Clint says, using his gruff Oliver Queen voice. “Who picked those people?”

“Someone with more good intentions than good sense,” Bobbi replies, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Skye grins, resting her head on Bobbi’s other shoulder. “At least we’ve only got two costumed clowns,” she says, looking slyly at Clint, who notices and pouts.

“Wonder if the Central City guys heard about this,” Trip says, grinning. “Maybe we should give ‘em a call.”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 12B**

**Star Labs.**

 

* * *

 

“ _What_?” Pietro asks, holding his phone to his ear.

“What’s going on?” asks Candace, who stepped in to take over the role of Iris since Akela sort of had her hands full with Amanda Waller.

Pietro looks startled. “Apparently they got a bunch of criminals to team up and take down the Joker. And they succeeded.”

“That sounds awesome!” says Joey, grinning and doing a fistpump. “Um, I mean, weird. Totally weird.”

“Criminals?” asks Jemma, who’s back to her normal hair.

“Yes, do they know who it was?” Fitz asks, in his much better American accent.

Pietro shrugs. “They said, uh, it was Harley Quinn, Deadshot, and… I dunno, a bunch of names. Killer Frost, I think? Do you have something to tell us?” He grins.

Jemma looks vaguely horrified. “What?” she exclaims.

“I didn’t do anything!” says Pietro. “No time stuff, promise!”

 

* * *

 

**SCENE 12C**

**The Joker’s empty lair.**

 

* * *

 

“I’m not going to be held responsible if Waller catches us sneaking out,” Lorelei says, but she’s smirking.

“She’s not gonna,” Raina assures. They step into the center of the room (once again the empty store, with the lights mostly off and the furniture mostly gone) and she peers around. “C’mon out!”

“Do they really come when they’re called?” Lorelei asks.

“They do for me,” Raina replies. Out of the dark corner of the room, Lucky and Autumn (both very sloppily painted to more closely resemble hyenas, although it isn’t really working) come bounding forth, tails wagging. “Babies!”

Lorelei rolls her eyes, still fondly.

The script ends there, but before Gamora turns the camera off Raina announces, waving toward Lorelei, “Bud, Lou, this is your stepmommy. Be nice to her.”

 

* * *

 

“I still don’t get why I had to die,” mutters Tony, taking a sip of his beer. (He took off the label, so it’s fine.)

Very solemnly Ace announces, “There wouldn’t be stakes if nobody died.”

Tony grumbles some more, but he can’t really argue writing conventions with a nine-year-old without looking stupid, so he just takes another drink.

“I thought it came out pretty well,” says Elektra from where she’s sprawled on Vanessa’s lap.

“Much more entertaining than the real thing,” Vanessa agrees, threading a hand through Elektra’s hair possessively.

“I didn’t make too much a fool of myself, did I?” Jemma asks Skye and Bobbi, frowning.

“No!” Skye says, putting her arms around Jemma’s waist. “You were adorable.”

“I don’t think that was entirely the point,” Jemma mumbles.

“Well, consider it a pleasant side-effect,” Bobbi chirps, kissing the top of Jemma’s head. “Maybe we’ll get to square off in one of these someday.”

Mike pats Ace’s head affectionately. “Came out pretty good, huh?”

“Well, there wasn’t anywhere to go but up,” Ace says seriously. “Good job, everyone!”

Loki, in the corner, calls, “I thought Leto’s Joker was brilliant. Seriously underrated.” Nobody acknowledges him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cast**  
>  Amanda Waller: Akela Amador  
> Government Agent: Fandral Byquist  
> Floyd Lawton/Deadshot: Antoine Triplett  
> Harleen Quinzel/Harley Quinn: Raina Kelly  
> George Harkness/Captain Boomerang: Lance Hunter  
> Chato Santana/El Diablo: Joey Gutierrez  
> William Tockman/Clock King: Tony Stark  
> Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost: Jemma Simmons  
> Bette Sans Souci/Plastique: Mary Jane Watson  
> Nanaue/King Shark: Helen Cho  
> Barbara Ann Minerva/Cheetah: Laura Amello  
> Leslie Willis/Livewire: Elektra Natchios  
> Music Meister: Clint Barton  
> June Moone/Enchantress: Wanda Maximoff  
> Enchantress' brother: Pietro Maximoff  
> Joker: Fandral Byquist  
> Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy: Lorelei Strand  
> Bruce Wayne/Batman: Mike Peterson  
> Jonny Frost: Peter Quill  
> Felicity Smoak: Darcy Lewis  
> Oliver Queen/Green Arrow: Clint Barton  
> Sara Lance: Bobbi Morse  
> Nyssa al'Ghul: Skye Johnson  
> John Diggle: Antoine Triplett  
> Barry Allen/the Flash: Pietro Maximoff  
> Iris West: Candace Miller  
> Cisco Ramon: Joey Gutierrez  
> Harrison Wells: Leo Fitz  
> Bud and Lou: Lucky and Autumn


	123. my love a beacon in the night, my words will be your light to carry you to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Jane have a holiday-ish party for some of their closest friends.

Jane is doing five things at once, and they’re trivial things but she’s more stressed than when she’s doing more serious ones. Go figure. She’s watching water start to boil while she touches up her makeup while she frosts cookies while she listens for the door while she tries to get comfortable in her high heels and it’s a _lot_.

Thor comes into the room, smiling. “Do you require assistance with anything?”

“No,” Jane says immediately, because she’s used to doing that. Then, after a second: “Maybe.”

“Let me help you,” replies Thor. “You seem overwhelmed.”

“It’s just adding up,” she admits. “Lots to do.”

“What can I do?”

“Cookies?” she suggests.

He nods, taking the tube of icing from her and continuing to frost the snowmen cookies. “Once I finish with these, may I see you for a moment?” he asks idly.

“Uh,” she says. “Yeah. I’ll turn the water off. We can worry about that later, I guess.” She reaches to fuss with the stove.

“It’s not urgent,” he says, smiling. “We have some time before anyone will show up.”

“O-okay.” She stops fussing and takes one last look at herself in her mirror, then turns to him. “You look nice,” she says.

“Thank you,” Thor replies. “You always look beautiful, but especially tonight.”

“Thanks, I mean, I’m trying,” Jane jokes.

A few minutes later, the ravioli is cooking and the cookies are frosted, and Thor says, “Now?”

“Now,” she agrees. “What’s going on?”

“Jane, the last three years have been the happiest of my entire life. You are the most brilliant, wonderful, amazing woman and I consider myself so lucky to be with you. I am in awe of you every day. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Okay, _what_?” Jane squeaks, stunned.

Thor gets down on one knee and offers the ring box he’s slipped out of his pocket to her. “I was going to wait until a quiet moment to steal you away during the party, but I couldn’t wait any longer,” he says with an almost shy grin.

“You’re unreal,” she says. “You can’t be real. You’re too perfect.”

He laughs. “Well, that’s how I feel about you, my love.”

“Holy crap,” she murmurs, more to herself than him. “I. Yes! Of course yes.”

He stands up and lifts her into the air for a kiss. “I love you,” he says once it ends, setting her back down gently.

“I love you too,” she replies. “Always.”

“I think you’ll like the ring,” he says. “There’s a note inside, you should read it.”

Her hands shaking, Jane reaches for the box and unfolds the note. “Oh my _god_ ,” she exclaims. “Are you serious?”

Thor nods, looking proud. “I knew it would make you happy.”

“It’s a freaking _meteorite ring_ ,” Jane yelps. “That’s so amazing!”

“You like it?” he asks, grinning. “I can take it back and get another if-”

“I love it!” she says, giggling a little nervously, like she can’t believe this is happening. “I love you. This is - it’s phenomenal!”

“I love you too,” he says. “Shall I put it on you? And then I suppose we’d better check the pasta.”

“Please,” she agrees, holding her hand out. “You’re wonderful.”

“You are,” Thor says, slipping the ring on her finger.

 

* * *

 

 

Hogun is the first to arrive, nodding approvingly at the lights on the walls. “Hello,” he says with a small smile.

“Hey,” Jane says eagerly. “You’re the first one.”

“Oh,” he says, smirking. “I can come back a bit later if you’d prefer.”

“No, no, my friend, you are fine!” Thor says, wrapping Hogun in an enthusiastic hug (to which Hogun rolls his eyes fondly). “Please come sit down.”

“Drink?” Jane offers.

“Just water for now,” Hogun replies. “Thank you.”

“Look at my ring!” Jane exclaims, waving it in his face eagerly.

Surprised, Hogun does. “That’s nice,” he says, smiling slightly.

“It’s a _meteorite_ ,” she informs him. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“It is,” he agrees. Then he turns to Thor, who hands him a glass of water, and adds, “So she likes it, then.”

“Yes,” says Thor, looking pleased.

“Good. Congratulations, you two.”

‘Thank you,” Jane hums. “I’m pretty thrilled.”

The doorbell rings, and Thor goes to answer it. “Hey!” says Sif, throwing her arms around him. Melinda stands next to her, smiling slightly.

“Welcome!” says Thor, ushering them inside. “Always nice to see you, Melinda.”

“You as well,” Melinda replies. “Jane, Hogun.”

Hogun nods a greeting, and Jane shoves her hand in their faces. “Look! Hi!”

Sif laughs. “Congratulations! Thor said he was planning on it but not when.” She rolls her eyes in his direction. “I thought he’d wait a little longer.”

“I was excited!” Thor says cheerfully.

“That’s an interesting-looking ring,” comments Melinda.

“It’s a meteorite!” Jane says, just as excited as before. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Sif nods. “He asked the boys and I about it when he was looking for a ring. I was the one who thought it up,” she says smugly.

“It’s incredible,” Jane assures her. “Seriously. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” replies Sif.

Melinda nods. “Congratulations. You two are good for each other.”

“Thank you,” Thor says, kissing Jane’s cheek.

As the rest of the guests - Helen, Darcy, Fandral, Volstagg and his wife Gudrun, Loki, and Lorelei and Raina - file in, Jane eagerly shows off her ring to them all. Everyone is suitably excited and congratulatory, except for Loki, who sniffs and mutters to Thor, “Well, at least you’re making an honest woman of her.”

“I’m glad you can share in our joy,” Thor says good-naturedly.

Thors make everyone cocktails while Jane puts the last few touches on the food, and once everyone has settled with food and drink he says, “So how is everyone feeling about the new _Star Wars_?”

“Um, fucking thrilled,” Darcy says. “Hot British chick _and_ the star of _Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights_? Count me the hell in.”

Helen chuckles. “I’m looking forward to seeing some of the story filled in from a different perspective this time.”

“It should be good,” agrees Hogun. “The cast is impressive.”

“We’ve got tickets for that Sunday night,” chimes in Sif. “She’s being a good sport and coming with me,” she adds, bumping her shoulder against Melinda’s, who smirks.

Volstagg chuckles. “The kids recognized Alan Tudyk’s name on the credits and now they’re all even more excited. Hildy has started calling the droid ‘King Candybot.’”

“It’s going to be nice to see him in something again,” says his wife Gudrun, smiling. “Sort of see him, anyway. Wash always was my favorite.”

“Yes, you do like funny men,” teases Volstagg fondly. “You married me, after all.” Gudrun chuckles.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Darth Vader on the big screen again,” says Loki. “It will be glorious.”

“You do realize that means you’re excited about a Nazi, right?” Helen asks dryly.

Loki glares icily at her. “Just because the uniforms were based on Nazi uniforms does not mean the Empire are Nazis.”

“Even if they’re not, which seems fake but okay, it’s still creepy to revere someone who committed genocide,” Darcy cuts in, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Loki snaps.

“Understand getting my jollies off of genocide? No, I don’t,” Darcy retorts. She glances down at the plate in his hands and adds, “So you’re not a vegan anymore?”

He shrugs. “I realized that cows have a glorious purpose, and it is ultimately to become sustenance for our continued existence.” He pops a ravioli into his mouth.

“If that’s not a definitive argument I don’t know what is,” Lorelei mutters in Raina’s ear, rolling her eyes. They’re only here because he invited her and she invited Raina, much to his obvious dismay.

“Well, no matter your diet it is good that you remain healthy,” says Thor, smiling. “Anyhow, I was very impressed with young Ace’s film last weekend.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Helen offers.

“Very clever,” agrees Melinda. “You all did well,” she adds, nodding to Lorelei, Raina, Helen and Fandral.

To nobody’s surprise, Raina reacts to this most visibly, grinning. “It was important to do,” she says, sounding almost (uncharacteristically) shy.

“It was very enjoyable!” Volstagg says. “The actual film was somewhat enjoyable, but Ace seemed to understand the characters better.”

“And he wrote them as characters, not stereotypes,” Helen adds. “Well, when it was important to do that, anyway.” She smirks.

Loki snorts. “I thought Jared Leto’s Joker was superior.”

For the first time tonight, Raina turns to really look him over, hand on her hip. “Care to explain?” she prompts, sounding like she’s having to work to keep from screaming.

“Gladly. I feel that he immersed himself in the character and the lengths he went to to get into character were admirable. I think Ledger’s Joker was a bit understated and enjoyed Leto’s performance more.”

“The lengths?” Raina echoes. “You mean harassing his unfortunate cast members?”

“Art requires suffering,” says Loki nonchalantly.

“That would comprise fetal pigs,” Lorelei says, unimpressed,

“Besides,” Raina jumps in. “Ace actually had the decency to acknowledge that Harley is better off without that trainwreck.”

“He’s better off without her,” counters Loki. “She is dead weight. She only slows him down and distracts him.”

“Distracts him from being completely evil?” Raina points out.

“Distracts him from his goals. And distracts the narrative as well. The Joker doesn’t need a sidekick, which is what she was created to be.”

“And of course there’s no way she could evolve beyond that as a character,” Raina snarks.

“She shouldn’t have,” sniffs Loki. “Her fanbase is composed of sexually unfulfilled men and teenage girls.”

“That latter group deserves not a damn thing, I guess,” Raina spits.

“Who am I to say?” Loki asks. “But I don’t think that’s what comics should be for.”

“You know I’d never promote unsafe kink,” Raina says to Lorelei, in an aside, “but have you ever considered approaching it just to slap him in the face?”

“I’d tell you the truth later, but I wouldn’t want to ruin that time complaining about men,” Lorelei replies coolly.

“Volstagg!” Thor says quickly. “How are the children?”

“They’re doing well. Flosi has a band concert sometime next week…?” Volstagg glances at Gudrun for confirmation.

“Thursday night,” Gudrun says. “The orchestra and band and choir are all performing. It’s going to be quite something.”

“I’ll have to see if I can swing by,” Thor says, smiling. “I know she’s very proud of her clarinet.”

“Well, it’s quieter than Alaric’s drums,” Gudrun smirks. “And much more compact.”

Sif laughs. “I’d apologize for getting everyone to pitch in for that, but it’s sort of my job as the cool aunt to buy them terrible noisy presents.”

“I’m glad he has passion for something, you don’t need to apologize,” Gudrun says with a fond laugh. “It’s just worth noting.”

“Oh, Hogun, they were asking about when you’d be over again,” adds Volstagg. “I think Leif feels like no one else cares that much about _Skylanders_.”

Hogun smirks. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“I don’t see what the appeal of children is,” mutters Loki.

“I mean, I’m not in a hurry to pop any out myself, but they can be fine,” Darcy says with a cheerful shrug. “I guess it’s good that at least some people are into them.”

Melinda snorts. “It’s sort of important, yes.”

“Children are wonderful!” says Thor, grinning. “Of course they can be difficult, like any other person, but I enjoy them immensely.”

“Well, you do work in a kids’ store,” Jane points out, bumping his shoulder with hers (kind of, given their height difference).

Thor chuckles. “True. I suppose you would have to enjoy children to work in the Disney Store.”

“ _Well,_ I can’t imagine anything worse,” says Loki archly, sipping his cocktail.

“Well, it’s fortunate that no one asked you,” replies Volstagg, rolling his eyes.

Fandral turns to Thor with a shit-eating grin. “So now that you and Jane are getting hitched, are you thinking about adding to your family?” he teases.

Jane groans, trying in vain to hide her face. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

Thor puts an arm around her reassuringly. “I think we’ll wait for quite some time before discussing that,” he says, chuckling.

Fandral, who has never been very good at letting a joke go, continues, “But settling down so soon, surely there must be a baby on the way!” He winks at Thor.

“It’s not the 50s, dude,” Darcy says. “Sometimes two dopes just love each other, baby or no. And even if there was a baby that doesn’t _require_ marriage.”

“Hey,” Jane says halfheartedly.

“I mean dopes with every affection,” Darcy promises.

Thor takes Jane’s hand gently. “I hope, my friend, that you will find such happiness in whatever way you would wish,” he says to Fandral, in sort of a pointed way.

“I don’t see what’s so great about having babies,” grumbles Loki.

“Like Darcy said,” Helen murmurs, “someone’s got to do it.”

“Well, not my birth parents, _obviously_ ,” says Loki, standing up and leaving the room.

Thor sighs and stands up. “I’d best go and make sure he’s all right.”

“Isn’t that kind of giving him what he wants?” Darcy asks.

“I suppose you have a point,” agrees Thor, sitting down again. “I just do not want him to feel I don’t care about him, even though he can be...difficult.”

“Trust me, nobody thinks you don’t care about him,” Raina interjects, although it’s not exactly her place to be doing so.

“You’re okay,” Jane promises, kissing Thor’s cheek.

He smiles fondly, though his eyes are still a little sad. “Thank you, dearest. Can I interest anyone in another drink?”

“Me!” says Sif, offering her glass. “Have you got any of the ridiculous holiday specials? I find it’s great fun to drink every time someone dances in _Charlie Brown,_ or every time something is deeply fucked up on _Rudolph._ ”

“I didn’t realize _Rudolph_ was fucked up,” Helen says, a note of curiosity in her voice.

“Oh, you have no idea,” says Melinda dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Jane's ring](http://www.arizonaskiesmeteorites.com/Damascus_Rings_Meteorite_Rings/Meteorite_Rings/xMeteorite-Ring-59.jpg.pagespeed.ic.-ZsWm0iFE7.jpg).


	124. I don’t care if it’s gonna rain, our little room is warm and stable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne Weaver hosts a holiday party for the science department, at which there is much merriment and silliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joanie (Wendy's wife) is based on another character connected to a Robin Weigert character. Joan Garner looks like Lucy Liu.

“Hi, Anne,” says Bruce, smiling at her from the doorstep. “I hope we’re not too early.”

“Certainly not!” Anne replies warmly. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable.”

“Thanks,” says Mack. “How’s your day going so far?”

Anne shrugs, waving them inside. “No complaints,” she says. “This is always one of my busiest days, but I don’t mind, of course.”

Hank laughs from where he’s setting up the open bar. “And every year you curse yourself while planning it out, and then it all turns out fine,” he teases.

“Well, it seems to grow exponentially each time,” she laughs, rolling her eyes fondly. “Always some new challenge.”

“It’s nice,” Bruce replies. “Yours is about the only holiday party I end up at where I don’t feel out of place.”

“That’s good,” Anne says. “That’s rather a goal, making everyone feel they belong.”

“So what’s on the program for tonight?” Mack asks. “I mean, I know it’s probably just whatever, but.”

“Drinks, foolish holiday movies, nothing special,” Anne says. “Wendy is bringing her wife, and I’m sure she’ll try to jazz things up a bit.” There’s a knock at the door and Anne smiles, silently excusing herself as she goes to answer it. “Maybe that’s them now.”

Sure enough, Wendy and a blonde woman are standing there, both smiling. “Hi,” says Wendy.

“Hello!” Anne exclaims, waving them in. “I’m so glad you could make it, Wendy, Joanie - you’re some of the first ones to arrive.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” laughs Joanie. “Coats anywhere particular?”

“I’ve a closet if you want to be formal, or we can start a stack on the divan if you don’t mind having to rummage later,” Anne says.

Decidedly, Joanie drops hers on the divan. “We’re all friends here,” she hums.

“Hi there, Dr. Ross,” says Bruce, offering his hand.

“Bruce, please,” chastises Wendy fondly. “Call me Wendy. This is my wife Joanie, and…?” She glances at Mack, smiling.

“This is my boyfriend Mack. Hi, Joanie.” Bruce and Mack both shake hands with them.

“I guess Bruce is one of your students, but not Mack,” Joanie says, nodding amiably.

“Oh yes. He was my TA for one class. Brilliant mind.” Wendy looks proud. “This is the first I’ve seen of Mack, though. You should’ve brought him around before, you know.”

Bruce chuckles a bit nervously. “Sorry, I just...it didn’t occur to me.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Joanie says. “What do you do with your days, then?”

“Oh, I’m at Best Buy,” says Mack with a self-deprecating little laugh. “You know, since that area’s apparently the prime space for jobs, or whatever.”

Wendy smiles. “No judgment.”

“Drinks, anyone?” Anne asks, striding over to the bar.

“Something with whiskey,” Joanie says.

As Anne starts making the drinks, the doorbell rings and Hank goes to answer it. “Oh, Andrew, please come in!”

“Thanks,” says Andrew, who enters, followed by his wife. “It’s cold out there.”

“You’re being a baby,” teases his wife. “This is nothing.”

“I didn’t know you were married, Dr. Garner,” Bruce says. “Hi there!”

“I’m a well-kept secret,” she jokes. “Hi, I’m Joan.”

“How did I not know your wife’s name was Joan?” asks Wendy, laughing. “Especially when you’ve met Joanie before!”

Andrew grins. “Wasn’t on purpose, just hadn’t come up.”

“Well, I’m delighted,” Joanie says. The door sounds again, so she adds, “Maybe it’s time just to unlock it and let folks come and go as they will?”

“Maybe,” Anne agrees. This time it’s Peter and Gwen, who are wearing ugly holiday sweaters. Peter’s says HAPPY HANUKKAH on the chest, surrounded by Christmas lights, and it has blue-and-white plush dreidels hanging off of it; Gwen’s has a menorah and says LIGHT IT UP. “My mom found them,” Peter explains, grinning.

“Delightful,” Anne assures them. “We’re just getting started.”

“Oh, hey guys!” Mack says. “Nice...sweaters.” He sounds like maybe he’s trying to convince himself that was the right thing to say.

“Oh, they’re awful,” says Gwen cheerfully. “Which is why Mrs. Parker sent them to us.”

“Yeah, we’re not really orthodox or anything, we mostly do Christmas stuff, but Mom found these and thought they were funny.”

Wanda and Hope are the next to show up, and when Wanda spots Peter and Gwen’s sweaters she giggles. “Nice.”

“Yeah, they’re really something,” agrees Peter.

“Nice to see you here, Wanda,” says Andrew, smiling.

“Dr. Garner! Hope, this is my advisor. He’s brilliant.”

“I keep hearing that,” Hope says with a chuckle. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“You as well,” Andrew says, offering his hand. “And this is my wife Joan.”

“I hear a lot about you too,” says Joan to Wanda. “Don’t tell the others, but you’re his favorite.”

Wanda looks a little embarrassed. “Thank you,” she says shyly.

Other guests show up and mill around, getting drinks and saying hello, and late into the beginning of the evening, Helen and Linnea spot Claire, entering with… someone new.

“Claire, who’s this?” Helen asks. “A cousin? A friend?”

Claire snorts. “No, this is...uh, Candace. She’s… with me.”

“With you, obviously,” Helen says, a little critical, a little curious. “How?”

Claire glances at Candace as if not sure what to say, then replies, “Girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Linnea says, sounding surprised. “Like…”

“Like a sex girlfriend,” Candace offers, smirking.

“Yeah,” says Claire with a shrug.

“Is this new?” Linnea asks.

“Couple months? Don’t be weird.”

“Weird wasn’t the goal,” Helen says. “It’s just unexpected.”

“Didn’t think it was important to bring up before,” says Claire nonchalantly.

“Should I be offended?” Candace teases.

“No,” says Claire, nudging her fondly. “They’re just nosy. So I don’t like to give ‘em too much gossip about me.”

“I resent that,” Helen exclaims, laughing.

“You two ask about Matt every week, it feels like,” replies Claire. “I got smart and decided to head that off right away.”

“Matt is fascinating,” Linnea says. “He’s a very interesting choice of… well. I assume Candace is interesting, too.” She flashes a smile at Candace. “You have good taste, Claire.”

“Thanks?” Claire chuckles. “Matt is a mess. This one’s a little more put-together.” She puts a hand on Candace’s back.

“Softie,” Candace says. “Do I get introductions?”

“That’s Linnea and that’s Helen. They work at the clinic with me.”

“Which is also fascinating,” Linnea says. “In a horrible way, but still.”

Claire chuckles. “Yeah, there is that. I’m very well acquainted with all sorts of parts of the human body that you wouldn’t want to be acquainted with.”

“And some you do,” Candace says. “Was that too…?”

“She’s funny,” Helen exclaims.

“She is,” Claire replies, smirking. “I’m keeping her another week.”

“We’re going to set up karaoke in the media room!” Joanie exclaims across the room.

“Ooh,” Linnea says. “That’s going to be horrible. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that till I’ve had a drink. Or four.” Claire glances at Candace. “You want one too?”

“Please,” Candace says brightly.

The group parts ways, and Linnea and Helen walk by Skye, Jemma, Bobbi, Fitz, and Trip, who are all milling around. “Hey!” Trip calls, waving at them as they leave. “You heading for karaoke?”

“Sure are,” Helen chirps. “Less for participating and more for watching, but nonetheless.”

Fitz shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere near that.”

“Aw. it might be fun,” Jemma says. “After more drinks.”

“Yes!” Skye says, eyes flashing. “You should definitely do it, Fitz.”

“I definitely should _not_.”

“We’ll meet you in there,” Jemma says. “Just consider it.”

Fitz sighs. “”I’ll need to have a _lot_ more to drink.”

“I mean, we can arrange that,” teases Trip. “If you want.”

“One to start,” says Fitz.

Trip brings them both beers, and then the two of them head in the direction of the media room. Fitz looks very reluctant. “I mean, _Rudolph_ isn’t very good but it isn’t people loudly singing pop songs either,” he grumbles.

“It’ll be fine,” says Trip reassuringly. “We can just watch for a bit.”

They sit down in the back of the room, which already has about a dozen people in it. Anne is still setting up the karaoke machine. “I don’t suppose you have Tom Lehrer’s ‘The Elements’?” Hank asks.

“Unfortunately, my karaoke is limited by what the companies produce,” Anne says, laughing.

“Well, it was worth asking,” he says good-naturedly.

“I would say we should try to keep it holiday-themed, but that would be so limiting,” Joanie hums, paging through Anne’s catalog.

“Oh, _no,_ ” groans Wendy, laughing. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, Christmas songs are either too liturgical, too cutesy, or too cloying,” Joanie says. “Or they’re ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside,’ which is its own special set of problems.”

“True. But the last time we were near a karaoke machine, you made me sing Disney songs,” teases Wendy. “Never again.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’?” Peter asks, looking puzzled.

Gwen narrows her eyes. “I swear I tell you this every year.”

“‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ could be interpreted as a cutesy bit of banter between two willing partners, but the language of the song is suspicious enough that it sounds more like it’s about date rape,” Raina says from the back of the room, where nobody actually knew she was sitting.

Peter blinks. “Where did you-”

She shrugs cheerfully. “Maybe I was here the whole time.”

 

* * *

 

Claire and Candace end up at the bar at the same time as… well, every woman dating another woman who is at this party, apparently. “Did I miss a memo?” Claire asks dryly.

“Happy coincidence,” Bobbi replies. “You’re Candace from Starbucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Candace agrees. “Thrilling stuff.”

“Well, you might get angry conservatives who hate cups,” Jemma says cheerfully. She’s already on her second drink. “That’s always fun.”

“Well, watching my manager Shades deal with them is funny,” Candace smirks. “He’s not exactly polite.”

Skye makes a face. “ _Shades?_ You’ve gotta elaborate.”

“His real name is something with an H, I forget, but he always wears these basic-ass Wayfarers,” Candace explains. “Claims it’s a light sensitivity issue. He’s really just pretentious.”

“Well, he sounds like a real picnic,” Maya says, sipping her drink.

Maria, who’s sitting next to her, snorts. “I’ve met him. He’s pretty much what you’re imagining.”

“He claims he’s dating some mayor or something,” Candace adds. “Who conveniently lives in another town. I can’t see it, but hey, even mayors get thirsty sometimes, I guess.”

“There is no accounting for taste,” Jemma agrees, eyes glinting mischievously. “Just ask Bobbi.”

“Excuse me,” Bobbi exclaims. “No need to be naughty, Jem.”

Jemma blushes. It’s pretty obvious they’re not talking about naughtiness in a Christmas way, but everyone else is too polite to say.

“By the way,” Claire says, addressing the group at large. “I’ve got a question, if y’all don’t mind.”

“Ask away,” says Hope V., in a lounge chair with Pam in her lap.

“So, I introduced Candace to some of my friends and they kind of interrogated us. Do you guys get that, if you switch between guys and girls?”

“God, yes,” Bobbi groans.

“It’s worse in some environments,” Maya adds, “but yeah. It’s baffling to people.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Is it just ‘cause I haven’t dated a girl before, that they’ve seen, or what?”

“That might be part of it,” Pam says, “or it might just surprise them in a general sense.”

“People get confused when you date girls and you’re even very close friends with a boy,” Jemma scoffs. “Living example, here.”

Skye laughs. “Yeah, you and Fitz _still_ get people asking about you, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Jemma says, groaning. “God forbid platonic relationships mean anything.”

“And also unfortunately, even cool people can get caught in that trap,” Bobbi adds. “Even people who - I mean, isn’t Linnea bi?”

“I’m pretty sure Helen is too, or something like that” Maya offers. “It’s just people getting ideas and thinking in boxes.”

“Yeah,” sighs Claire. “I mean, it’s not a huge deal. It’s just like, really guys? Not that big a deal.”

“I really don’t think they were meaning it to be,” Candace says hopefully. “Just, that shit happens sometimes. Oops.”

“I mean, god forbid you don’t wear flannel and combat boots and have a tongue piercing,” snarks Skye. “I have a pretty gay wardrobe so that gives it away, but y’know. I guess maybe people don’t expect it if you don’t dress stereotypical.”

Claire snorts. “Well, I _do_ wear combat boots a lot.”

“Eh, you know what I mean.”

“There’s something to that,” Candace agrees. “I get surprised vibes from people all the time. It’s the curse of the long-haired femme queer.”

“The long-haired any kind of queer,” Bobbi corrects, smirking. “I walk out the door with a leather jacket and ass-kicking boots, but I’m still so feminine for. You know.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, nodding. “What’s always baffled me is the idea that girls who look girly wouldn’t like other girls,” she says. “I mean, if I clearly appreciate girly things, why wouldn’t that extend to appreciating girls?”

“It’s pretty ridiculous,” Maria agrees. “Just some heteronormative bullshit at work again.”

“On a much lighter note,” Pam says, because she feels sometimes like that’s part of her job too, “isn’t Dr. Ross’ wife wonderful?”

“I bet Dr. Ross’ wife knows all about this problem we’re discussing,” Jemma says. Just then, Wanda and Hope S. wander in, looking a bit bewildered, and she calls, “Hello!”

“Hi,” says Wanda. “It’s a party over here.”

“We were just discussing heteronormativity and how it always seems to rear its ugly head,” Maya says playfully. “It got a bit heated.”

“Oh! I’m writing a paper on something similar, actually. How societal norms make it difficult for those who aren’t heterosexual to navigate and how the assumptions can be- oh, I’m sorry,” says Wanda with a little laugh. “You probably don’t want to hear about it.”

“Of course we do,” Hope says softly, squeezing Wanda’s hand. “It’s interesting. You’re interesting.”

“Aw,” Bobbi mouths, nudging Jemma and Skye playfully.

Wanda smiles and squeezes Hope’s hand back. “Well, it’s just really interesting to me,” she says. “How the default of male-female couples is so programmed into everything, even robots. If you look at _WALL-E,_ which is a very good movie, incidentally, the robots are gender-coded. I think besides EVE there are maybe two or three female-coded robots? And of course WALL-E is coded male. And those aren’t even humanoid robots - people tend to tell stories about robots with female-coded bodies because they want the audience to think of them as helpful and, in some cases, pliant. It’s all fascinating.”

“That is!” Jemma exclaims, nodding. “I’d love to read that paper when you’re done.”

Looking pleased, Wanda says, “It’s not due for a couple more weeks, but once I’m done I’ll email it to you.”

“Anyway,” says Claire, “glad to know it’s not just me.”

 

* * *

 

“I hear you have an interesting ring,” Anne says to Jane, smiling in a more personable way than her professor persona really allows.

“Oh! I do,” Jane grins, immediately fanning her hand out for display. “It’s from space.”

“Oh my goodness,” says Hank, leaning over to inspect it. “What’s it made of?”

“A meteor,” Jane enthuses. “Isn’t that so cool?”

Hank nods enthusiastically. “I’ve seen pictures of similar rings before but I like the detailing on this one. Seems your fiance has good taste.”

Smiling fondly at Thor, Jane says, “He spoils me.”

“And you deserve every bit of it,” says Thor, smiling at her. “I must admit, I consulted some friends on how best to pick a ring she would appreciate.”

“They were right and you were right to ask and I’m going to stop before I get totally disgusting,” Jane laughs.

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that on our account,” replies Hank. “What do you think, my darling, shall we look into getting some of those for ourselves?” He winks playfully at Anne.

“I expect some slightly more neutral pieces of jewelry might be more up our alley,” Anne replies airily. “Cufflinks, earrings. That sort of thing.”

Hank chuckles. “Of course, of course. Perhaps they also make those out of meteorites.”

“Perhaps,” Anne repeats.

 

* * *

 

“How’s it going?” Jemma asks in a whisper as she, Skye, and Bobbi slip into the back of the karaoke room next to Fitz and Trip. In the front of the room, Professor Selvig is enthusiastically, and seemingly without irony, singing “Never Gonna Get You Up” and nobody else seems to know what to make of this.

“Well,” says Fitz, “ _that’s_ going on.” He nods toward Selvig.

“Yeah, I honestly don’t know if he’s Rickrolling us all or if he genuinely wanted to sing this song.” Trip grins. “It’s been decent before this, though.”

“Are you getting any closer to getting up there?” Bobbi asks Fitz, her own smile decidedly more evil.

Fitz narrows his eyes. “No,” he says, but his drink is mostly empty.

“What if I give you $10?” Skye asks, grinning.

“That’s cheap of you,” he replies.

“$20?”

When Selvig finishes his song (to a stunned silence and then a smattering of awkward applause), Jemma shrugs cheerfully and goes up to see the list of what’s available in the machine. “I’d offer to duet if it wasn’t going to end in horrible heterosexual nonsense,” she says as she peruses. “Oh! A Disney section.”

“Oh no,” groans Fitz.

“I’m too white to sing most of the best girls’ songs that don’t have anyone else interjecting,” Jemma laughs. “I _suppose_ I could get away with the anti-love one from _Hercules_ , but that’s better with backup, which I am also too white to provide.”

“I could sing with you!” Skye says. “I mean, I haven’t seen that movie in forever, but I like that song.”

“Last I checked, love, you’re one Asian woman, not three black women,” Jemma teases. “We could sing something else, but I’m not sure what.”

Skye scoffs. “I bet I could do it anyway. What else is there?”

“A lot of the Golden Age stuff. Which, being honest, the karaokeable tracks are all a bit ballady,” Jemma says. “Disney doesn’t really have a lot of girls-singing-together songs.” She smirks. “If you’re so keen on getting Fitz up here, you could always solo as payment, though.”

“How about it?” Skye asks, turning to Fitz and offering her hand. “Fair’s fair.”

Fitz grunts. “Maybe I should go up and look myself.”

“Oooh,” Jemma exclaims as he’s coming up. “Look, Fitz!”

“What?” Fitz looks wary.

“Just come see for yourself,” Jemma giggles, sauntering back to her seat to leave him to the discovery (and, she knows, the inevitable performance).

Fitz grumbles as he goes over to the machine, then his eyes practically bug out of his head. “You must’ve arranged this beforehand,” he says, suspicious.

“I didn’t even know Dr. Weaver had a karaoke machine,” Jemma exclaims defensively.

“What’s causing the conflict?” asks Joanie, lifting her head off of Wendy’s shoulder with a smile. “Other than someone not getting in the party spirit.”

“Oh, we just found something from Fitz’s favorite movie,” says Skye, tipsy enough to draw out the word _movie._

Fitz glares. “Alright, alright,” he grumbles, selecting the song and taking his place in front of the audience. Then the sounds of a drum machine that’s meant to sound like dribbling basketballs starts up.

“I mean, honestly, what were the odds of that thing having a _High School Musical_ category?” says Skye, carefully pulling out her phone to record the entire thing.

“It was a very popular film,” Jemma says. “I’m sure loads of kids wanted to be able to sing it themselves for parties or the like.”

“This is gonna be something to see, isn’t it?” Joanie asks the kids in the back.

“Oh, better than,” Bobbi says cheerfully.

“Goodie,” says Helen, who’s a few drinks in herself.

When Fitz starts, he doesn’t just sing - he actually appears to know all of the choreography, and starts dancing around. “Oh my god,” says Trip, grinning. “He’s gonna hate us for this tomorrow but this is adorable.”

Jemma’s eyes are gleaming. “It would be better if he had a basketball, of course, but it’s a delight,” she says.

“-getcha head in the game! Getcha getcha getcha head in the game!”

“This is the best party _ever_ ,” Skye says, eyes gleaming.

 

* * *

 

A fair amount of the guests have gone home for the evening, but those who remain have all migrated to the main room, partly because it’s more convenient for the alcohol. “Didn’t you say you have some of those silly gingerbread kits?” Joan Garner asks Anne, taking a sip from her drink.

“I did,” Anne agrees. “They were having a sale, so I figured why not?”

“There’s not that many of us left. How many kits do you have? We could make it a competition,” says Joan playfully.

“Five or six, I think,” Anne says. She turns to the remaining guests and asks, “Is this a horrible idea or a wonderful one?”

“Wonderful!” exclaims Pam, who’s definitely on the drunker side of tipsy. Hope V. whispers something in her ear that makes her blush, which is pretty much par for the course.

“Everyone else agree?” Anne calls, grinning.

“That sounds hilarious,” says Skye, then glances at the rest of her group. “You guys up for it?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve singing,” replies Fitz, rolling his eyes.

“It’s competitive gingerbread house building, not competitive Christmas elf imitating,” Jemma says, clearly under the impression this is funnier than it is.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made a gingerbread house,” Wanda says. “They can’t be that hard, right?”

“Not when all the pieces are laid out,” Hope S. shrugs. “I mean, you have pictures to go off of.”

“There are twenty seven people left, including you and myself,” says Hank to Anne. “I suppose that makes us the judges?”

“Sounds fair,” Anne agrees. “Groups of five, then!”

“Perfect,” Bobbi says.

They sort themselves into groups, some of which make more sense than others (Peter and Gwen end up in a group with Linnea, Claire, and Candace and immediately declare it Team Hufflepuff), and Anne goes to retrieve the kits. “We should establish ground rules,” she says. “You can only use the pieces in your box, for fairness.”

“Makes sense,” says Maria. “Also you shouldn’t just copy the picture on the box, as far as the candy decorations are concerned.”

“And let’s keep the smack-talking to a minimum?” suggests Hope S., who seems a little surprised she spoke up to the whole group.

“That seems fair,” Anne agrees. “Everyone find a place to set up.”

They do, retreating to spaces that are just far enough away that nobody can spy on another group without significant efforts (not that this was a huge concern for anyone). “I should just supervise,” slurs Fitz. “I’m no good at interior decorating.”

“Exterior,” Jemma corrects, rolling her eyes fondly. “Unless we’re building a gingerbread cutaway dollhouse, which seems unlikely. We haven’t got any proportionate cookie people to place in it.”

“Well, I’m not any good at that either,” says Fitz. “You lot are better.”

“No worries,” says Trip, running a hand down Fitz’s back, “we’ll take care of it.”

Overhearing this, Hope V. smirks. “I like that idea,” she says to her group, which consists of Pam, Raina, Wanda, and for extra confusion Hope S. “I’ll delegate.”

 “Of course,” Pam hums. “WHo does what?”

“Well, first all of you need to get the pieces sorted so we know what we’re working with,” Hope V. says. “I mean, the box gives a pretty good idea, but.”

Wanda nods, opening the box and gently taking all the pieces out. “Front and back of the house, the roof, and the sides. Oh, and I think these are trees,” she adds with a grin.

“Are we going to stay traditional?” Raina asks, just slightly sniffing with a bit of disdain.

“Let’s worry about getting the structure up and then we’ll see,” announces Hope V.

Meanwhile, Maria’s group (Maya, Helen, Jane, and Thor) are methodically sorting every piece of the kit, including the candy. “It’s nice doing this with adults,” remarks Maria. “Aly loves gingerbread houses, and it’s adorable, but she also tends to eat the candy rather than use it.”

“As tempting as all of these generic jelly beans are,” Maya teases, “I think we’re all aware there’s a goal to be met.”

“I would be happy to do the icing,” offers Thor. “I have a very steady hand.”

“Is there a way to turn this into modern art?” Helen asks, surveying it. “Or at the very least modernist architecture? It would be a bit more interesting.”

Maria shrugs. “Hey, if you can figure it out you’re welcome to go for it. She didn’t say we had to stick to the house model, just that we had to use only those pieces.”

“Hm,” Helen murmurs. “Let me think about it a moment.”

“Going to add ‘gingerbread architect’ to your list of accomplishments?” Jane jokes.

“Apparently,” Helen replies loftily.

Finally, the adults’ group is set up at the bar proper, Joanie cheerfully pouring them all more drinks as they try to set up. “Somehow I don’t think we’re winning this one,” she says. “Might as well have some fun.”

Andrew chuckles. “Well, that’s the whole point, I suppose. At least pretty much everyone else has been drinking too. We’ve all got that disadvantage.”

Wendy snorts. “Good point. Pass me the icing, will you, Erik?”

Selvig does, grinning. “I suppose we could just go for broke and cover the whole thing in candy?”

“That would be such an eyesore,” giggles Joan. “Let’s do it.”

Peter and Gwen are lobbying to turn their group’s house into an AT-AT. “We could do it!” says Peter, who is clearly drunk. “Just, just cut some of them smaller, it’d be so awesome!”

“Why an AT-AT?” Claire asks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s so random.”

Gwen shrugs. “Can’t do a Death Star, too round. X-Wing’s too complicated.”

“And naturally it has to be something _Star Wars_ ,” Linnea says, a bit sardonic.

“Duh!” says Peter. “I mean, I guess we could try the _Enterprise_ but that seems pretty complicated too.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing any of those things,” says Claire

“It’d at least be interesting,” Candace remarks, sneaking a candy.

“Look, supernerds, if you want to make spaceships with the candy _on_ the house, fine. We’re not engineering one out of gingerbread.”

Peter and Gwen make some good-natured grumbling noises, but agree.

“So we’re going boxy and boring,” Linnea not-quite-asks.

“I mean, if we put spaceships on it it won’t be boring!” says Gwen cheerfully.

Across the room, Jemma is busy methodically placing the base pieces at right angles, using the side of the box as an approximate measuring device. “If we don’t have any brilliant ideas to spin it uniquely, at least it can be pristine,” she mutters, chewing on her bottom lip.

“You’re cute,” murmurs Skye. running a hand down Jemma’s arm.

“Mm, thank you,” Jemma says. “Shouldn’t you be decorating your little trees?”

“Workin’ on it,” replies Skye cheerfully, randomly gluing candy dots onto the small gingerbread trees (not necessarily where the premade holes are, either).

“Going for the ‘candy store threw up here’ look?” teases Trip.

“Yup,” she responds.

“Y’know, it doesn’t have to be exact, Jem,” says Fitz. “Nobody’s gonna be able to tell anyway.”

Of course, that’s one of those funny instances of something that’s meant as consolation but actually just serves to aggravate Jemma’s nerves, and she goes a bit pale as she says, voice tight, “We’ll be able to tell.”

Behind Jemma, Bobbi glares at Fitz and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Do whatever you want to do with it, honey,” she says soothingly.

“Yeah, you’re fine,” says Skye. “I mean, it’s gonna look better than my trees anyway.”

“Your trees are charming,” Jemma says, soft and insistent.

Skye leans over to kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks. Hey, it’s all for fun anyway, right?”

“Theoretically,” Fitz says, rolling his eyes overdramatically. “She just gets like this sometimes.”

“Hey,” says Skye protectively. “Watch it or you’ll owe me another karaoke session.”

Trip snorts. “Truly, the worst punishment.”

“Let’s put big gay rainbows on the house,” Raina suggests to her group. “We’ve got the right assortment of jellybean colors, mostly.”

Hope S. giggles. “Throw subtlety out the window.”

“I like this idea,” agrees Wanda. “I can start sorting them, if you’d like,” she adds to Hope V.

“I would,” Hope V. agrees. “It seems important, or as important as anything might in this game.”

Pam giggles. “They’ll certainly know it’s us.”

Gwen and Peter are constructing what seems to be a candy replica of the _Serenity_ in front of the house, while the other three work on decorating the actual house. Claire rolls her eyes fondly. “Having fun?”

“So much!” says Peter, grinning.

“I suppose the crew just stopped by for a visit?” Linnea suggests.

Gwen shrugs. “Or the gingerpeople who live here really like the show and they bought a yard decoration.”

“Oh my god, that would be _amazing_ ,” says Peter. “You think we could make one?”

“Probably. We could maybe even set it up to do the tail lights thing. Maybe over winter break we can figure that out.”

“Y’all are adorable,” Candace says cheerfully.

“Thanks,” says Gwen smugly. “We’re not even trying. You should see us when we’re trying.”

“Maybe we could make more of a gingerbread… backyard,” Joanie suggests to her group. “You know. Trees and not much else.”

“Sure,” agrees Joan. “That might be nice. Andrew, would you work on a couple of the trees?”

“Of course,” says Andrew, chuckling. “Although you’ve seen me with the pruning shears, I don’t know why you would trust me with even candy plants.”

“Well, you can’t possibly kill these,” teases Joan.

“Do you garden, Joan?” asks Wendy. “Never could get into the habit, myself.”

Joan shrugs. “Trying, anyway. We’ve got a blackberry bush that’s managed to survive even his aggressive pruning,” she adds, grinning at Andrew. “And some smaller plants too.”

“I think if we tried any edible plants, the cat would just eat them,” Joanie says. “Or, for that matter, regular plants. He’s a vacuum.”

“Oh, Bill,” chuckles Selvig. “How is that little bastard?”

“He’s not,” says Wendy, grinning. “You just think that because he tried to kill your shoes.”

“I think this is a perfectly valid reaction.”

“It would be if he succeeded,” Joanie says diplomatically. “All he did was make them a little _distressed_.”

“Oh, I was plenty distressed myself,” says Selvig, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

Across the room, Helen exclaims something nonverbal happily, hurrying around their station. “I figured it out!” she says. “First we’ll have to turn the gingerbread backward, obviously, we wouldn’t want to have these little etchings visible. Then we turn the pointy ones so the points are going forward, not up. Square roof, square back wall, and then -” she pauses to pick up the skinnier pieces of gingerbread and demonstrate the shape with her hand - “open door!”

“Ooh!” Jane says.

“I understood very little of that,” says Maria, grinning, “but hey, go for it.”

“Thor, help me get the corners stuck together as we place things,” Helen encourages, waving him over as she starts to arrange the blocks.

“What do we do with the candy?” Maya asks.

“Whatever you like,” Helen says ambivalently.

Thor starts following Helen’s instructions for icing, smiling even though he also looks a little puzzled. “I confess I do not quite understand your plan either,” he says cheerfully, “but I suppose as long as you do, that’s what matters.”

“If the pointy parts stick out, that’s modern art,” Helen says, shrugging. “Frost the corner of these two pieces, will you?”

“Of course.”

Andrew and the other professors are doing their best to cover every inch of their house in candy. “This is awful,” says Wendy, grinning.

“They said don’t make it like the box,” Joanie replies, leaning to give her wife a kiss. “We’ve definitely gone above and beyond the box.”

“I can’t even imagine what a real house would look like if it had this much on it,” snickers Joan. “You’d be able to see it for miles.”

“My parents’ house actually looks sort of like this,” says Andrew. “They love Christmas and I think they buy more decorations every year. I have no idea how they pay the electricity bills. Or get most of it on the house. I think maybe they hire a neighbor.”

Erik laughs. “I suppose as long as they’re happy, that’s what matters.”

“Oh, they are. They start right after Thanksgiving and leave them up till New Year’s.” Andrew rolls his eyes fondly. “I hated it when I was a kid, but now they just text me pictures and I don’t have to see it every day, so it’s fine.”

Fitz is being insistent that none of the same-colored candies can touch each other, so Skye and Bobbi have been slipping Jemma more drinks as the decorating goes on, to try to ease the annoyance. “You’re doing great, honey,” murmurs Skye in her ear.

“Thank you,” Jemma replies, somewhat slurred. “I just don’t see why the same can’t be by the same, that’s how real things are.”

“Beats the fuck outta me,” Bobbi says, carefully drawing scallops on the roof with frosting, “but it’ll be okay. I guess this is just a kaleidoscope house or some shit.”

Skye shrugs. “I mean, if it was up to me I’d just put fucking random colors on it, but whatever.”

Trip, meanwhile, is rolling his eyes and dutifully following Fitz’s instructions on how to place the candy. “Don’t worry,” he mutters to Skye, smirking, “I’m gonna insist on doing the decorating myself if we ever move in together.”

“Oh, he’s not nearly so ridiculous about real decorating,” Jemma says, a bit too loudly.

“I’m not being ridiculous,” responds Fitz. “It’s just _logical._ ”

“Putting things that don’t go together right by each other?” Jemma exclaims. “How is that logical?”

“Well, it’s because that way you can have a pattern,” explains Fitz. “If you just put them randomly on there that’s no good, and if you put them all together then that’s boring.”

“I don’t see a pattern,” Bobbi chimes in.

“Well, there _is_ one,” grumbles Fitz. “It makes sense to _me_.”

Jemma sighs dramatically. “I hope you’re right.”

Claire’s group is just putting the finishing touches on theirs - which, of course, includes the candy _Serenity_. “Okay, that’s actually pretty impressive,” admits Claire. “Nerds.”

Peter and Gwen high five. “You bet!” says Gwen, pulling out her phone to take pictures.

“I feel like if there’s a place to be nerds, this is definitely it,” Candace jokes.

“Wrap it up, everyone!” calls Hank. “We’ll start judging in just a minute!”

They start with the professors’ ridiculous rainbow house, which Anne very bluntly observes is “the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Isn’t it?” asks Joan, grinning. “It was Erik’s idea.”

Erik shrugs fake-modestly. “I just thought we might as well go ridiculous and use all the candy if we weren’t likely to win anyway.”

“I think it’s charming!” Hank says. “And certainly appropriate for the crowd.”

“It certainly looks to have taken some effort,” Anne agrees, smirking.

The next house they see is the other rainbow house, which seems to have been at least slightly more intentionally done. “We just thought it might be nice,” says Wanda, a little sheepishly.

“And fitting,” Hope V. adds grandly.

“For, y’know,” Hope S. chimes in, blushing. “Reasons.”

“Very good reasons,” Anne says kindly.

“It looks very nice,” agrees Hank. “Appropriate.”

“Thank you,” says Raina, curtsying.

Skye’s group’s house seems to be methodically decorated, and then the trees in the yard are randomly covered in candy. “I just thought that would be better,” says Skye with a shrug. “Y’know, it’s like how fruit grows randomly and shit.”

“An interesting premise,” Anne says, eyeing Fitz and Jemma (both of whom appear to be significantly drunker than when they started the competition) critically.

“I delegated,” Fitz says with a hiccup. The word sort of comes out half-slurred.

“He definitely did that,” Bobbi agrees, rolling her eyes.

“Well, the end result is nice,” Hank says diplomatically.

He seems a bit more puzzled by Helen’s modern art house. “I think I’ll need this explained to me,” he says, almost apologetically.

“It’s modern art,” Helen says plainly. “And the front door is open.”

“Ah! Well, that’s certainly an interesting approach,” he says, kneeling down slightly to look closer at it. “I commend you for committing to the idea.”

“Yeah, we pretty much let her figure out what she was doing and then stuck candy on it,” says Maria cheerfully.

“I think it turned out very nice,” Jane says, lolling against Thor with a lazy smile.

“Yes,” he says, then adds to Hank and Anne, “We hope you’ll agree?”

“I certainly give you points for effort,” Anne declares.

Finally, Claire’s group’s house, which seems perfectly normal except for the candy _Serenity_ out front. “Oh my goodness!” says Hank. “That’s impressive.”

Peter and Gwen are both beaming. “Thanks,” says Peter. “It was her idea to use candy canes as the drive pods.” Gwen looks smug.

“It’s very clever,” Anne says. “A bit of a random choice, but well-executed.”

“Yeah, I just let them do whatever they want since we talked them down from an AT-AT,” says Claire, smirking.

“This really was the more reasonable option,” Candace agrees, leaning into Claire a bit.

“Indeed,” says Hank, laughing. “Well, we’ll go consult amongst ourselves for a moment, I suppose, and then announce the winner. I’m not sure what you win…?” He glances at Anne.

“The knowledge of a job well-done,” Anne announces, because she definitely forgot to get anything prizelike.

“Well! That works,” says Hank cheerfully, leading her out of the room.

When they return, Anne claps her hands and says, “Claire’s group wins!”

Claire blinks. “Seriously? Wow.”

Peter and Gwen high five each other, then everyone else on the team. “Go Team Hufflepuff!” says Peter excitedly.


	125. only gonna get what you give away, love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time once again for the annual Secret Santa exchange!

“All right,” Sharon yells over the sounds of everyone settling in with their (mostly alcoholic) beverages. Technically the Applebee’s staff has left the premises, but since Hunter is invited to the party the booze is still flowing. “Let’s get started! We all know the drill, random people pick other random people to randomly give presents to in a non-religious, non-denominational winter celebration of goodwill and, let’s be real, capitalism.” She grins, pleased with herself.

“Our first recipient tonight is Kara,” Steve announces, smiling in a way that seems privately for her.

Luke stands up and goes over to hand Kara a bag, smiling a little awkwardly. “I asked around, Mike said you had a bear, so I got him some stuff.”

Kara nods, grinning. “I do in fact have a bear,” she agrees, opening the bag. “And now he has a hat.” She pulls out a bear-sized _Star Wars_ hat. “And… nunchucks.”

Shrugging, Luke chuckles. “I thought he might need nunchucks.”

“Well, he’s trained in karate, I don’t know why he wouldn’t,” she says.

“Next, Darcy!” Steve calls.

“Oh!” Kara exclaims. “That’s also me.” She jumps up and hands Darcy a box wrapped in lumberjack bear paper.

“Cool,” Darcy says, careful to leave the paper mostly intact. “Cool! What’s this do?” She pulls out a box labeled _Superfight_.

“I guess for each round you get one fictional character and a superpower and a weakness, and you have to argue why yours would win over someone else’s,” Kara says, shrugging some. “It seemed kinda up your alley.”

“You guessed right!” Darcy exclaims. She stands to give Kara half a hug, then waves her on her way.

“Trish!” Steve declares.

Fury ambles over with a bag that was clearly wrapped by someone who cared much more about presentation than he did. “I got a gift receipt in case you’d rather get a different scent,” he says with a shrug. “I wouldn’t be offended.”

Trish, who is mildly surprised that Fury (who she’s never even spoken to one-on-one) got her something more elaborate than a gift card, smiles warmly. “Apple’s good,” she assures him. “Thank you.”

Sam pulls out the next card and says, “Sharon’s next!” with a wink at her.

“Hey!” calls Rhodey, bringing her a package.

“Hey,” Sharon replies, opening the box and immediately cooing. “Aw! These are so tiny and cute! Did you make them?”

“Yeah. The store has a deal where you can make like 3 minifigures out of a bunch of different options, so I made, um, you and your partners.” Rhodey grins. “I mean, some of the options weren’t great so I painted some of them, and I dunno how good they are, but yeah. Sorry about the empty sixth space, I wasn’t sure what to put there, but if you wanna come in and make another sometime it’s on me.”

Bucky snickers. “I’m gonna take you up on that. In like, nine months.”

Sharon groans. “Don’t even.”

“Vanessa!” says Sam, looking a little apprehensive.

Elektra, who’s sitting next to Vanessa, slides her a bag with a smirk. “Enjoy,” she purrs.

“You little minx,” Vanessa murmurs, laughing low and throaty. Once she’s opened the bag she says, “Minx indeed. Looks like we’ll both be enjoying this.” As she kisses Elektra, she not-subtly turns the present so everyone in the room can see it. It’s a somewhat non-intuitive but highly aesthetic bondage kit that involves a large fake spiderweb.

“Thank god Matt and Foggy aren’t here,” Karen mutters to Kara, smirking.

Sam rolls his eyes, then says, “Wanda!”

“So,” Laura A. says as she makes her way to where Wanda is sitting, “I’m mostly going off of hearsay about… well. But I hope it amuses you.”

Wanda unwraps what turns out to be a little white clay marionette cat, with blue and green eyes. “Oh!” she says, grinning. “It looks like my cat! Where did you find it? I didn’t know anyone made ones with heterochromic eyes.”

“Etsy,” Laura says with a shrug. “It’s custom.”

“It’s lovely, thank you,” says Wanda, looking pleased.

Sharon nods as Laura reclaims her seat. “Next up is Jane!”

Skye practically skips over to hand Jane her present, and Jane eyes it curiously as she rips the wrapping paper off. “Not much else that something this shape could really be,” she jokes, pulling out an umbrella clearly patterned with space.

Skye snickers. “I mean, I figured you could use it, and it’s space!”

“It is!” Jane agrees, nodding. “Thanks. It’s cute. I’m not gonna open it in here, but it’s cute.”

“Next, Bereet!” Sharon announces.

Bobbi slides out of her seat to hand Bereet a surprisingly large package for the $25 limit (not that it’s always observed anyway, but still). “Oh my god,” Bereet says, pulling out a pink dress with a GameBoy design printed on the front, with the screen over the chest saying GAME OVER. “That’s perfect.”

“I know, right?” Bobbi agrees, giggling.

“Hope S.,” Sharon calls.

“So there were a lot of options,” Trish begins, leaning across the table to slide Hope a box. “But this set summed it up nicely.”

“I’m trusting you on that,” Hope hums. Inside the box are four patches shaped like candy hearts, with BEAT IT, BACK OFF, GO AWAY, and DROP DEAD written on them. “Yup. Perfection.”

Trish looks pleased with herself.

“T’Challa!” says Sam.

T’Challa smiles a little shyly, and Billy Koenig comes over to hand him a box, smiling widely. “Steve told me you said you hadn’t seen these movies, so I wanted to help!”

It turns out to be a set of _Star Wars_ Episodes IV-VII, and T’Challa looks surprised but pleased. “Thank you,” he says. “I just haven’t gotten around to them yet.”

“Well now you can watch them! But don’t worry about the prequels, you can just read the Wikipedia articles about them.” Billy grins. “Have fun!”

Sam, also smiling, says, “Candace!”

Maya hops up with a small gift box, grinning sheepishly. “I know it’s way too formal,” she says. “The box. But it’s… well.”

Candace unties the ribbon and opens the small velvet box, grinning. “It’s jewelry from a real store that probably necessitates real boxes,” she surmises. “I get ya. It’s pretty.” The necklace in question is gold, with a pendant made of some blue and very glittery stone.

“Laura!” says Sam.

“I heard you might find this relevant to your interests,” Tegan says coyly, handing Laura an oblong package that doesn’t even pretend to be boxed.

Laura pulls out a wooden rolling pin… covered in silhouettes of cats. “I have to concede that it is,” she says with a playful sigh. “Thank you.”

Clint giggles. “At least you’ll make really good cookies,” he teases.

“Says the man who ought to know, he eats enough of them,” Laura retorts playfully.

“Next, Rosalind,” Steve announces, pulling out a new slip.

Fitz, looking terrified, stands up and almost tiptoes to where Rosalind is sitting, watching him with a raised eyebrow and a vaguely amused smirk. “Um,” he squeaks, handing her a small bag, “here!”

The gift turns out to be (fake) leather gloves. “Not bad,” she says with what passes as a polite smile coming from her.

He visibly sighs with relief and then scurries back to his seat. Trip, looking amused, reaches over to rub his back.

“Malcolm!” says Steve.

Hope S. leans across the table this time, passing Malcolm a small box. “I figured if nothing else it’s… not something you can have too many of,” she says with a sheepish smile.

Malcolm pulls out a small red leather wallet. “Ooh! Thanks, I’ve been needing a new one, actually, mine’s getting kind of ratty.”

“And if you want, you can stick your iPod in it, see?”

“Oh, that’s so cool! Thank you.” Malcolm smiles at her.

“Next up, Bobbi!” Steve says.

“Now, I know this is for children,” Helen says, smirking, “but I thought you might find it entertaining in its own right.”

“So it’s either science or _Star Wars_ ,” Bobbi laughs, opening the package. “Holy shit! It’s both.” It’s a kit to use scientific principles to create your own miniature lightsaber, in fact. “You’ve gotta tell me where you found this. I just had a great idea for a drinking game.”

Helen laughs. “I can order more in for you, but you’ll have to pay for the next ones.”

“Elektra!” Steve calls.

Mike goes over to hand her a package. “I hope this is okay,” he says. “I don’t know much about it.”

Elektra giggles and pulls out a bottle of wine. “Ooh, very much okay,” she says with a smile. “Good choice.”

“Good,” says Mike, looking relieved. “I just googled around a little, so I’m glad it was right.”

“Next, Jemma!” Sharon announces, smirking in Jemma’s direction at the memory of last year’s present (Jemma, predictably, blushes).

Joey hops up, smiling reassuringly. “I think you’ll like this,” he says, holding out a bag.

The gift in question happens to be a pair of very femme pajamas (shorts and tank top) with an artistic painting of Hedwig the owl on the front. “They’re lovely,” Jemma assures, grinning.

“And then Fitz,” Sharon says.

Irani offers him his gift. “I thought it was something all young people should have,” she says, smiling.

Fitz’s eyes go wide as he rips off the paper to reveal a revolving metal spice rack, with little containers. “Oh! Thank you,” he says. “This will be...very useful, yes.” Irani chuckles and goes back to her seat.

“Joey!” Sharon announces.

It’s from Bruce, and turns out to be a portable battery charger for his motorcycle. “I think it’s a pretty nice one,” Bruce says, with an almost apologetic shrug. “I haven’t been on a bike in a while.”

“Oh yeah, this is great!” says Joey with a smile. “Thank you.”

“Eric!” says Sam.

Melinda strides over to hand him a carefully wrapped box. “I hope you don’t already have it,” she says wryly.

Eric tears off the paper and practically squeals. “Cassian’s blaster!”

“I heard you guys had some kind of Nerf war going on,” adds Melinda with a shrug. “Thought I could help.”

“We sure do!” says Eric, looking smugly at Billy, who sticks his tongue out at his brother.

“Bucky!” says Sam, snickering.

Bucky gives him a funny look, and doesn’t look any more reassured when Coulson stands up. “It’s mostly for your dogs,” he says, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure,” says Bucky, and then once he’s got it out, he starts to laugh. “Oh my god.”

“See, you can hide the little squirrels inside the stump and they have to figure out how to get them out again,” explains Coulson, somewhat unnecessarily. “The website said it helps with problem solving and reasoning, or something.”

“Callie will love it,” says Bucky. “I think probably Apollo will either adopt one or try to eat it. I’ll have to watch him with it. Anyway, thanks!”

Coulson, looking pleased, goes to sit back down and then glances at Rosalind, as if for approval. “You did a very good job,” Rosalind promises, patting his shoulder.

“Steve!” says Sam.

Jessica ambles over to him. “So this probably won’t be much of a surprise,” she says. “But you’ll like it.”

“I do!” Steve exclaims, pulling out a nice set of pencils. “They wear down so fast.”

“Good,” says Jessica, giving him a smirk that would pass for a smile.

He returns it as he reaches for the next name. “Mike!”

“So it’s not the most inspired, but I think it’ll work,” Karen says, handing Mike a package.

Mike chuckles as he unwraps a travel mug with the Batman logo on it. “Hey, this is great,” he says. “Thanks!”

“Welcome,” Karen says. “I had pretty good help.” She glances back at Kara and winks.

“Hey, hey, it’s Sam’s turn next!” Steve calls, nudging Sam.

“Coming right up,” Pepper sings out, scurrying toward the front of the room. “Happy winter, or something.” She smirks as she hands over a package.

Sam unwraps a pen that he looks a little puzzled about until he reads the package, then grins. “Cool! So it can break glass?”

“I mean, I haven’t tried, but allegedly,” Pepper shrugs cheerfully.

“Hey, I’m up for trying it sometime,” Sam says mischievously.

“Fury is up next!” Steve announces.

Fury glances around warily, and it’s Kurt Wagner who stands up, smiling. “Hello!” he says. “I don’t know if we’ve met, but I thought you could use this.”

Fury looks even more skeptical as he opens the present, which turns out to be a knit hat/hood with Ewok ears on it. “Well, it looks warm,” he says, shrugging and putting it on. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” says Kurt cheerfully.

“Our next recipient is Hannah!” Sharon exclaims, getting ready to proverbially murder the gift-giver if they’re too inappropriate.

Hunter stands up and hands her a huge box. “Hope you like it,” he grunts, offering what passes for a smile.

“It’s very… festive!” Hannah says with a bright smile of her own. What it is is a Christmas sweater, complete with multiple knit patterns and two bears wearing sweaters of their own in the middle. “Thank you!”

“Don’t get comfy, Hunter, you’re up next,” Sharon announces.

Hunter looks unsettled, especially when Natasha stands up. “Oh, don’t look like that,” she says with a smirk. “You’ll like it. Probably.”

He does not look any less unsettled when “it” turns out to be a painting of a sad clown. “Christ,” he says, staring at it.

“I had Steve do it for you,” says Natasha primly. “It’s an original work.”

Hunter blinks. “Good lord.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies, turning elegantly to sit down.

“Next, Bruce!” Sharon calls.

Heimdall brings Bruce a package. “It seemed useful,” he says with a small smile.

Bruce pulls out a tiny fridge, just large enough for one drink, and grins. “Oh, that’s cool! It’ll fit on my desk! Thank you!”

“Of course,” says Heimdall, nodding.

“Vanessa!” announces Sam.

“Be right back,” Sharon tells her boys, grinning. “I figured this was classy, functional, funky, and could be used as a murder weapon, so it would suit you,” she adds, handing a small box to Vanessa.

“Indeed,” Vanessa says, withdrawing an ornate, weathered corkscrew and smirking. “It’s not the most innocuous of weapons, but if self-preservation won out over deniability it would do nicely.”

“Kurt!” Sam calls.

Kurt looks pleased, even if a bit less so when Tony stands up and hands him a box. “Thor said you like fencing,” he says. “So I looked around a little.”

Kurt’s jaw drops when he opens the box to reveal elegant blue-and-grey Nike sneakers. “I’m not sure this was within the price point,” he says, obviously shocked.

Tony shrugs. “It’s no big deal. Have fun.” He winks at him.

Sam tries to hide his amusement as he says, “Billy’s next!”

Bucky brings Billy a haphazardly wrapped box. “Uh, I dunno if it’s as cool as what your brother got, sorry,” he says apologetically.

Billy shrugs and grins when he opens a set of bowls with _Star Wars_ designs on them. “It’s okay, he just can’t use any of these,” he says with a grin. Eric makes a face at him.

“Sif!” Sam says.

Sif’s curious look quickly turns to suspicion when Fandral approaches their table. “Why so angry?” he asks, sliding a package towards her. “It doesn’t become you at all.”

“Because I know you and I have a feeling I know exactly what this is,” she says, unwrapping it and groaning when it’s an autographed copy of _Dear John_ by Nicholas Sparks. “Goddammit.”

“It was a real bargain,” he says, grinning and then ducking (not successfully) when she wads up the wrapping paper and throws it at her.

Melinda raises an eyebrow at Sif, who responds, “He buys me copies of these books every Christmas because he knows I hate them.”

Melinda snorts. “Ah.”

“Maya’s next,” Sharon says brightly.

Loki strides over, handing her his present with a smug expression. “If you need me to explain it, I can,” he says.

Maya opens the box and sniffs disdainfully. “Thanks, but I’ve got like four of these at home, I know the drill,” she says flatly, grinning as she holds up the tarot deck.

He looks almost disappointed. “Oh. Well, enjoy it, then.”

“Pietro!” Sharon exclaims.

His gift appears to be coming from Hope V., who approaches with a decently sized box. “You can never have too many,” she says, somewhat ironically.

He raises an eyebrow and then unwraps it, revealing a multipurpose kettle. “Oh, that’s nice! Thank you.”

“Irani’s next!” Sharon calls.

Irani looks around expectantly until Maria walks over and hands her a small package. “I wasn’t sure what you’d need, but I figured this would be a safe bet,” she says with a shrug.

“Thank you,” says Irani, when it turns out to be an elegant day planner. “It was.” She gives Maria a smile, who returns it.

“Next, Heimdall,” Steve announces.

Heimdall puts up his hand in a half-wave, and Vanessa saunters over with a glittery black wine bag. “This, too, is safe, I expect,” she says.

He smiles and pulls it out, nodding in approval. “Very nice. Thank you.”

“Carina!” Steve declares.

Sam goes back to the table where Bucky and Natasha are sitting to grab a bag and then take it to her. “It’s a little weird but I thought it was kinda your style.”

Carina pulls out a stuffed animal with pink fur, a cat head, and tentacles for appendages. “It’s adorable!” she croons. “Definitely a good choice.”

“It’s called a Tentacle Kitty, I guess,” Sam explains. “Glad you like it.”

“I do,” Carina promises, grinning.

“Also, nice ring.”

Carina beams, although she’s blushing. “Thank you,” she says.

“Hogun!” Steve calls.

“This one is definitely weird,” Victoria smirks, passing Hogun a reasonably sized box.

Hogun looks slightly puzzled, but when he opens it he almost smiles. It’s a lamp shaped like a Pac-Man ghost. “Very nice,” he says, nodding.

“Hope V.!” calls Sam.

Malcolm heads over to her. “This is probably your speed,” he says, pushing the bag towards her.

“It’s certainly something I can make use of,” Hope agrees, opening the bag to reveal a gift set of Bath and Body Works products. She’s only a bit devious saying this.

“Loki!” Sam says, snickering.

Loki glances around imperiously, as if he is too important to be here, and Hogun brings him a bag. “Here.”

Looking wary, Loki unwraps it, but when it’s revealed to be a Funko Pop of V from _V For Vendetta_ , he smiles. “This is very...nice,” he says, sounding a little shocked. “Thank you.”

Hogun nods. “I thought you would like it.”

“Next is Victoria!” Sam says.

Candace approaches, apparently undaunted even by Victoria in all her aloof haughtiness, and passes over a gift bag. “Careful, it’s breakable,” she says.

Victoria pulls out a bag of coffee beans and a mug with two merrymaking foxes on it. “Appreciated,” she says wryly. “There’s always a place for coffee.”

“I mean, I think so, and not just ‘cause they pay me to,” Candace replies cheerfully.

“Rhodey’s turn!” Sharon announces.

Akela brings him a box, which turns out to be a shirt printed like a silly Christmas sweater with Pluto on it. “I thought it might be festive,” she explains.

“It’s great,” says Rhodey, grinning. “Thank you.”

“Karen,” Sharon says.

Grinning, Jemma hops up and passes Karen a plate of seasonally-sprinkled cupcakes. “Some chocolate and some vanilla, I wasn’t entirely sure what you like best and it was a bit too late to ring Kara,” she says.

“Aw,” Karen laughs. “You definitely spent more time on this than most of us. Thanks!”

“Trip!” Sharon calls.

Rosalind approaches, expression rather more aloof than is usual for a gift exchange. “I took a lucky guess,” she says.

Trip pulls out some cufflinks shaped like the _Star Trek_ communicator badge, and grins. “Oh wow, cool,” he says. “Thanks!”

“Then Akela’s up!” Steve says.

It’s from Sif, and turns out to be a small tactical knife. “It’s got a serrated edge and a gut hook, if you ever need those,” she says.

Akela runs her finger along the flat blade, grinning. “Thank you. I’ll find something to do with them.”

“Pepper!” announces Steve.

T’Challa brings her a small box. “I consulted my mother,” he says with a smile. “Part of it is vibranium.”

“It’s beautiful,” Pepper says, withdrawing a bracelet that she can only assume is done in the Wakandan style.

“Good,” he says, obviously pleased.

“Raina!” Steve declares.

Thor strides up, holding an obviously vase-shaped item. “Here you are,” he says cheerfully.

Raina blinks. “Ah, thank you,” she murmurs, pulling out some glass flowers and looking a bit surprised despite herself.

“I asked for some help on the meaning of the flowers,” he says, nodding gratefully at Lorelei. “I knew you would appreciate that.”

“I do,” Raina agrees, even more surprised.

“Volstagg!” calls Sam.

Volstagg smiles, and when Mike brings him his present (a rubber baking mold shaped like small Lego pieces) he smiles wider. “This is wonderful!” he says. “One for each child!”

“Yeah, that was my thought,” replies Mike, grinning back.

“Melinda’s next!” Sam says.

Jane smiles sheepishly. “Sif definitely had to tell me what would work, but I hope this counts,” she says, passing a bag across the table.

Melinda looks a bit skeptical, but when it turns out to be a simple yet elegant yoga mat bag, she smiles. “It’s nice,” she says. “Thanks.”

“Tasha,” Sharon sings out.

Natasha glances around, and Pietro brings her what is obviously a wrapped shoebox that contains a pair of soft red slippers. “Oh, they’re nice,” she says, sounding a little surprised. “Thanks.”

Pietro grins. “I thought you’d like them. Wanda said not to get you shoes.”

“No, I’m pretty good on shoes,” says Natasha with a smirk, “but these are good.”

“Fandral, you’re up,” Sharon calls.

Darcy skips over with a large bag and hands it to him, saying, “Look it up.”

Puzzled, Fandral pulls out a giant foam finger with a mysterious symbol on it. “Uh,” he says. “I’ll do that.”

Sif starts snickering and nudges Melinda. “That’s from _Bitch Planet_ ,” she murmurs into Melinda’s ear, who smirks.

“Helen’s up,” Sharon announces.

Elena hands her a small package. “I think you’ll like this,” she says. “Probably.”

“I love it,” Helen exclaims, pulling out a pair of socks knit to look like sharks are eating someone’s foot. “Those are wonderful.”

“Good!” Elena grins. “I’m glad I was right.”

“Tony’s turn,” Steve declares.

“Oh,” says Tony, glancing around until he spots Billy bringing him a bag. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” says Billy, grinning as he hands over the bag. It turns out to contain a ridiculous red Christmas sweater covered in Darth Vader heads.

“Oh my god,” says Tony. “I’m not even sure how to react to this, to be honest.”

“Have fun,” replies Billy, smirking.

“Clint!” Steve calls.

Hannah gets up, very businesslike, and hands him a neatly wrapped box. “Practical _and_ fun!” she exclaims.

Clint unwraps it to find a sparkly purple leash. “Oh man,” he says, laughing. “I don’t know if Lucky will want anything to do with this.”

“Pretty sure you deserve it, considering what you guys got for Liho,” calls Natasha.

“Fair point.”

“Luke’s up, which means…” Steve goes to grab a package and pass it off to Luke, smiling.

Luke smiles when it’s a nice pair of fighting gloves. “Nice,” he says, nodding approvingly. “Thanks, man.”

“It makes sense,” Steve says amiably.

“Jessica!” says Sam.

Jessica waves her hand sardonically, and Carina practically skips over, clearly pleased with herself. “Make sure to pull it apart,” she says.

Frowning, Jessica pulls out a hairbrush and pulls at it as instructed, to reveal a 3.5” knife inside. “Damn,” she says, looking pleased. “This is cool.”

“It was Nebula’s idea,” Carina admits, “but I’m glad you like it.”

“Nice job,” Jessica says, nodding.

Sam calls, “Elena!”

“So,” Bereet says, “I heard you could use some of these, maybe.”

Elena raises an eyebrow but grins when she opens the box. “Very nice,” she says, holding up the bamboo brushes. “Thanks for getting different sizes. They’re nicer to work with than a lot of brushes.”

“Good! I’m glad,” Bereet says, grinning.

“Thor!” says Sam.

Lorelei parades over. “Here, it seemed useful,” she coos.

It turns out to be a book that is clearly intended for couples to improve their sex lives, which makes Thor chuckle, slightly confused. “Thank you?” he says. “The thought is, er, appreciated.”

“You never know when you’ll need it,” Lorelei replies, smirking.

“Ian, you’re up next,” Sharon says.

Trip brings him a package, saying, “Hope you don’t already have this, I dunno.”

Ian grins, pulling out a replica of Bofur’s hat and putting it on his head. “Sure don’t!” he says cheerfully.

“Coulson,” Sharon declares.

Wanda brings him a box, looking vaguely uncertain. “I wasn’t quite sure…” she says.

It’s a copy of _The Girl on the Train_. “Oh!” he says, sort of pleased. “I never got around to seeing this, I wanted to read it first, but I hadn’t had time.”

“Good,” she says with a shrug. “Enjoy? I haven’t read it but a lot of people have been buying it lately, of course.”

“Skye!” Sharon calls.

Volstagg brings her a small package. “It’s not very big, but it seems useful.”

“Ooh!” she says, pulling out a small portable power bank painted like Vader’s lightsaber. “Cool! Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, then adds, “I might have bought one for myself too” with a wink.

“Tegan’s turn!” Steve announces.

Raina turns around showily and grins. “I wasn’t exactly sure how to best suit your aesthetic, so I figured this goes with anyone,” she declares.

It’s a flask reading “Cheers Mother Fucker” in all caps, and Tegan starts laughing. “It’s perfect,” she promises, winking at Raina.

“And our last of the night is Maria!” Steve says.

Maria tilts her head, then Clint brings her a box, smiling. “I figured, you’re a cop, you might like this.”

She looks confused and slightly wary until she pulls out _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ season one and chuckles. “Okay, makes sense,” she says with a nod. “Maya keeps telling me to watch this, so that works out.”

“It’s so good!” says Clint. “You’ll love it. Everyone loves it. Merry happy!”


	126. and every vessel's meant for pouring out and every bloom has to make room to root down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jarvises have their customary Hanukkah party on December 24th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this week's installment is a little late, we're dealing with various personal things (an impending move, various family celebrations, illness). We hope you had a great holiday weekend, and if you didn't, that something here will at least make you smile.

“What drinks would everyone like?” Thor asks cheerfully.

Jane shrugs, grinning. “You know.”

“If I have to watch you two be gross all night, the strongest thing you can think of,” Darcy (who is here without a snuggle partner) drawls.

Thor laughs. “Anyone else?”

“Uh, whatever you recommend,” calls Peter, and Gwen chimes in “Same for me.”

“As always, it’s so very good of you,” Ana chimes in, smirking.

“It’s the least I can do, since the two of you are so hospitable,” says Thor. “Jarvis, anything for you?”

“Just some scotch, thank you.”

Thor turns to start mixing drinks. “And what is on the agenda for this evening?”

Ana giggles and nudges her husband. “He had a very charming idea.”

Jarvis rolls his eyes fondly. “I think it’ll be fun,” he says. “I’ve made some cards for a Hanukkah version of Pictionary.”

Raina, already sipping some wine, agrees, “That sounds very festive.”

“I thought so, yes,” Jarvis says, smirking.

“I’m good at Pictionary,” says Pietro. “Nobody else ever wanted to play with me.”

Wanda snorts. “Papa was better than you.” Pietro sticks out his tongue at her.

“Now, now,” says Jarvis. “It’s not a competition. Let me grab the cards from the other room and then we’ll get started, hm?”

“Do let’s,” Vanessa deadpans.

Soon, Wanda, Hope, Raina, Darcy, Vanessa, and Elektra are facing off against Pietro, Peter, Gwen, Jane, Thor, and Kitty. Peter draws the first card and, looking a little panicked, walks over to the sketchpad. After staring at it for probably too long, he starts drawing lines which eventually turn into a somewhat lopsided Star of David and then points at it.

Everyone looks at each other, puzzled, before Gwen says, “...Star of David?”

Peter shakes his head and points more frantically.

“Um,” says Kitty. “Jewish…?”

Peter groans and draws a rectangle around the star.

“Orthodox Jewish?”

Nobody guesses it before the buzzer goes off, and Peter sighs and says, “Israel, guys. I was drawing the flag.”

“The Israeli flag has blue bars along the top and bottom,” Jane points out.

“Yeah, well, I forgot what it looked like,” grumbles Peter.

“I’ll go next,” Vanessa announces, smirking.

“Goody,” Raina murmurs.

Vanessa takes a card and waits for Ana to turn the timer over. At first it looks like she’s drawing Ms. Pac-Man, which is to say a face with an open mouth and unnecessarily feminized features, but that’s not a Hanukkah thing so it takes everyone a second. Then she starts drawing wavy lines coming out of the head’s mouth.

“Bad breath?” Wanda asks, tilting her head.

Vanessa chuckles, adding little music notes between the lines.

“It’s a song?” Hope asks. Nervously she squeezes Wanda’s hand and asks, “What… are some songs? I’m sorry.”

Vanessa waves her hand as if to invite elaboration.

“Is it singing in general?” Elektra asks, raising an eyebrow. “Seems almost too obvious.”

“Singing it is,” Vanessa agrees. “While I wouldn’t say it’s the _most_ significant aspect of the holiday, I understand its inclusion, I suppose.”

Jarvis shrugs. “Some of them are a little broader than others. I got them from a suggested list on the internet.”

“Charming, isn’t it?” Ana asks of no one in particular.

Thor chuckles. “I’m enjoying myself, certainly.”

Jane selects the next word and, looking pleased, starts to draw a pair of long, skinny rectangles. Thor asks, “Towers?” and she shakes her head and adds teardrop shapes on top of them.

“Oh, candles!” says Pietro, grinning. “That was an easy one.”

“Yeah,” says Jane, clearly relieved. “I’m, um, not much of an artist so I’m glad it was so obvious.”

Wanda’s turn is next, and she starts drawing a cuplike sort of object, adding handles to the outside.

“Prize?” Darcy asks.

Wanda adds a base to what is clearly supposed to be a trophy, then looks hopefully at her team.

“Trophy?” Vanessa tries. “Winner?”

Grinning, Wanda nods and motions for them to keep going with that.

“Champion, um, first place, um…” Hope looks a bit lost.

“Is it something like victory?” Elektra asks.

“Yes!” says Wanda, smiling at her. “Thank you.”

Elektra looks pleased, especially when Vanessa gives her an approving nod. “Happy to help.”

Kitty’s turn has her drawing a dreidel which is pretty instantly recognizable, and then Raina draws a remarkably detailed menorah, all things considered. The game limps along for a couple more rounds before it becomes obvious that all the remaining cards are concepts or otherwise difficult to draw, so Jarvis says, “Right, well, thanks for doing your best, everyone. I think perhaps we’d better wrap this up and bring out the food.”

“It was a nice idea, anyhow,” Ana says consolingly. She drifts into the kitchen to pick up some of the food and waves her husband along to get the rest.

Once everyone has gotten a plateful of food, Ana nudges Jarvis, who coughs and turns to Jane and Thor. “I hear that you two have some exciting news?” he asks, a bit awkwardly.

Jane grins and blushes, holding out her left hand.

“Oh!” Ana exclaims, grinning herself. “That’s beautiful.”

“It looks like it’s made of very unusual material,” says Jarvis. “What is it?”

“Space!” Jane yelps, looking too pleased for words. “Meteorite, technically. But it’s a space ring.”

“Holy crap, she’s been talking about this nonstop,” Darcy chimes in. “Space ring! Space ring! That’s my impression of you this month, Jane.”

“Normally that would offend me,” Jane says, “but I’m too excited.”

Thor grins. “Surely you don’t begrudge her excitement, Darcy?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Darcy agrees, smirking. “I just think it’s funny. In an endearing way, promise.”

“Just because marriage isn’t everyone’s ideal doesn’t mean it’s entirely ridiculous to be excited about it,” Jane points out, but she clearly isn’t hurt.

“It’s a lovely ring,” Jarvis says. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” says Thor, grinning.

“Do you have a date set?” Ana asks.

“Oh, we’re not in a hurry,” Jane demurs.

“Not until Jane finishes with her studies, at least,” adds Thor.

“Well, that’ll be something to look forward to,” says Jarvis. Then he turns to Vanessa. “How did you and Elektra meet?”

Elektra snickers, and Vanessa smiles as sweet as she can. “She defended me from some Nazis,” she says. “Then we promptly contaminated the back counter at my place of business.”

Startled, Jarvis blinks and stammers, “C- _contaminated_...?”

Elektra smirks and tosses her hair. “That’s one word for it.”

“We cleaned up after, don’t worry,” Vanessa declares.

“Well, that was...good of you,” says Jarvis, still looking shocked.

“It was a tumultuous night,” Vanessa says brightly.

“Halloween, it was,” Raina chimes in. “You remember? At the mall, with the Hydra men, you were there, weren’t you?”

“But _you_ weren’t there, were you?” Jarvis asks Raina, frowning.

Raina shrugs mysteriously, and Thor (grinning) seems to take pity on Jarvis and asks, “How are classes going, for those of you taking them?”

Gwen coughs pointedly and nudges Peter, who grins sheepishly and says, “Well, I’m not allowed in the lab without supervision anymore after I, um...misused some lab equipment.”

“I _told_ him to clean up better after himself,” sighs Gwen. “I wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

Wanda giggles. “What did you even do?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it,” says Peter, but then adds more quietly, “I can tell you afterwards.”

“Okay,” says Wanda, looking intrigued. “I’m just glad I survived finals. I had three projects due.”

Hope nudges her, smiling shyly. “Of course you survived. You kick, um. Butt.” Solely because she feels inappropriate swearing around Wanda’s adult friends.

Wanda giggles again and squeezes her hand fondly. “Thank you. You too.”

“I don’t think I know what you’re studying, Hope,” Jarvis says.

“Oh!” Hope exclaims. “Ah, business. It’s. well, it’s not very exciting, but I guess it’s useful.” She shrugs cheerfully. “I don’t have the temperament to teach gym, which is the only thing anyone ever suggested I do since, y’know. Running.”

“That’s all right,” says Jarvis, smiling. “How long have you been running?”

This question makes Hope blush, but in a way she knows how to handle, so she sounds a little more confident when she says, “Basically forever. I started competing when I was in junior high.”

“And Wanda has said you work at the sports store?” Ana asks.

“For now, yeah,” Hope agrees. “It’s a pretty good part-time job. Melinda’s a great manager, and our clientele isn’t usually too over the top.”

Elektra, smirking, says somewhat playfully, “And you and Wanda are very sweet together. How’s that going?”

This time, Hope really doesn’t know how to deal with it, so she makes a vague gesture with her hand and shyly mumbles, “Really good, can we change the subject?”

Taking pity, Jane says, “I finished that big project, finally!”

“Oh, good!” Ana exclaims. “The one about…?”

The next five minutes are, for most of the guests, an exercise in smiling and nodding as Jane babbles out an explanation, seemingly oblivious to everyone else’s confusion. She’s just really excited and can she help it if none of the others understand astrophysics? “...so, yeah,” she finishes, smiling smugly. “I think it turned out well.”

“None of us are going to argue it,” Darcy says brightly.

Kitty nudges Darcy and chuckles, “Don’t be mean. It sounds cool, what I got of it.”

“I’m not being mean,” Darcy defends, though it’s only halfway true.

“Any interesting stories anyone has to share?” Jarvis asks.

Darcy shrugs cheerfully. “My boyfriend hasn’t stopped wearing a dwarf hat for a week.”

Thor laughs. “I’ve seen him. He seems very content. I had a mother come in to buy a figure of Bodhi from the new _Star Wars_ movie for her son for Christmas, and she was so excited because that actor is Pakistani and their family is too. He apparently loved that character so even though she’d already finished shopping she came to see if we had anything.”

“That’s really sweet!” Hope exclaims.

“You must get a lot of that at your store,” Raina deadpans, but it’s mostly a good thing.

“Especially lately, which is lovely,” says Thor with a nod. “There is some cartoon on television with a Latina princess called Elena that seems to be very exciting for a lot of little girls.”

“Aw,” Darcy says. “That must be nice for them, I’m really glad. The only representation discussions I’ve gotten into at work lately are dragging the chicks from _Fantastic Beasts_. Which, like, I like A Fine Frenzy’s music? And I’m sure she’s very cute on screen. But neither she nor the other girl are anywhere near Jewish enough to play the Goldstein sisters.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “But you know it’s just a coincidence, they’re not explicitly Jewish,” she snarks. “They just happen to have a Jewish name.”

“Don’t you know about Anthony Goldstein, though?” Darcy exclaims, laughing. “No, of course you don’t, because the only people who know about Anthony Goldstein are supernerds who could tell you the name of basically everyone in Harry’s graduating class. But he too has a Jewish last name, and JK trotted that out a couple years ago to prove that hey, she had Jews! Spoiler, she didn’t really have Jews. In one of the video games, I know this because I’ve looked and it’s the only image you can find of him that’s not fan-edited, he looks like he’s in the Hitler Youth.”

“Wow,” snickers Kitty, “who’s the nerd now, Darce?”

“Oh, I completely included myself in the supernerd description,” Darcy shrugs. “Speaking of which, if you’re thinking about spending money on _The Cursed Child_ out of curiosity, don’t. The online summaries get to the point.”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, no, I read the plot of that when it got leaked and I was out.”

“I went through the tumblr tag while I was drunk,” adds Gwen. “That was pretty fun.”

“What’s this, now?” Jarvis asks.

“Some asshole said ‘hey, let’s write a play that’s about Harry Potter and his friends all grown up,’” Darcy explains. “And, of course, all of their ridiculously-named offspring. It’s fucking bonkers. Like, they had black Hermione, which was cool, but JK acted like it was her idea all along and... no. No it wasn’t.”

Raina tosses her hair. “JK Rowling needs to stop acting like she’s so progressive,” she says, and this isn’t really a surprise even if she doesn’t always show off her nerdy side. “If Hermione had been black all along, she would have said so.”

“Lee Jordan,” Darcy says sagely.

“What happens?” Ana asks. “In the play. Why is it… bonkers?”

“Honestly, I can’t even remember,” says Peter, shaking his head. “Harry and Draco’s kids were best friends but also probably in love with each other, and Voldemort had a secret daughter, and there was time travel and an alternate universe and it just sounded nuts.”

“And if you want Voldemort’s secret daughter you can literally watch the webseries based on and parodying _My Immortal_ ,” Darcy adds. “So it wasn’t even an original bullshit idea.”

Gwen nods. “I’ve definitely read better fanfic. I’ve probably _written_ better fanfic.”

“My goodness,” Ana says.

“This was a book?” Pietro asks. “A real book?”

Wanda nods. “We’ve been getting a lot of copies. I guess people don’t like it much.” She grins. “Sometimes Ian and I do dramatic readings from it when we don’t have anything else to do, so that’s fun.”

“Put it on YouTube,” Darcy says. “I’ll come film if you want.”

“Oh, I don’t know if it’s that good,” says Wanda, a little shyly. “We’re just goofing off.”

“People eat that up, though,” Darcy exclaims.

“Once at a party I was quite drunk and Darcy filmed me singing ‘A Whole New World,’” Thor says cheerfully. “Apparently it was quite popular.”

“Both parts,” Darcy chimes in. “It was awesome.”

Jarvis chuckles. “We can always count on Darcy to document the important things.”

“Someone has to!” Darcy says.

Kitty rolls her eyes fondly. “Anyway, so I made Hanukkah cookies, if anyone is interested.”

“Me!” says Peter, putting his hand up.

“You don’t have to put up your hand, silly,” teases Kitty as she goes into the kitchen to retrieve them.

“And once we’re done with those,” says Jarvis, “shall we light the menorah?”

“That sounds nice,” agrees Wanda.


	127. ready and waiting for a heart worth the breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a New Year’s Eve party at Knowhere, and there are a few new faces amongst the familiar ones.

Drax hums loudly and slightly off-key as he removes the hinges from the bathroom door. “Nebula, hand me the screws?”

Nebula ambles over with a package of screws and holds them out. “So you’re gonna put the door back on after we’re done, right?”

Shrugging, Drax says, “Most likely. Although I may leave it, who knows what other guests may need accessibility?”

“But people are gonna be able to hear me pee!” whines Quill. “I don’t want that!”

“I will make sure the music is loud enough that no one will hear you pee,” Drax says. “It’s more important that young Mr. Reyes be able to pee at all.”

“I guess,” grumbles Quill. “You think he can do cool wheelchair tricks?”

“Don’t ask him,” Gamora demands. “Please, whatever you do, don’t ask him.”

“I thought about installing a ramp,” adds Drax cheerfully, “but Gamora pointed out that we don’t have stairs. It seems it is fortunate that I did not.”

Carina, over at the refreshment table, nods solemnly. “I don’t think we want to risk that, especially if there’s gonna be drinking tonight,” she says.

“I guess,” says Quill, who’s messing with the sound system. “You boring married people would worry about that.” He winks in Carina’s direction.

“I always worry about safety when there’s alcohol involved,” Carina says, sounding a little indignant in a way she only feels comfortable doing with people she really knows.

Nebula snorts. “Jealous, Quill?” she calls. “I see you don’t have a date tonight?”

Quill makes a face. “What? No! I mean, I don’t have a date, but I’ll figure out something! Why would I be jealous? I don’t wanna get married or anything.” He says it a little too quickly for it to be entirely true.

“I doubt you could find anyone to marry you,” Gamora says over her shoulder.

Quill pouts, but the door opens before he can reply. Laura Kinney and Cessily enter, followed by three men, two tall and lean and one in a wheelchair, the last of whom glances around the hastily decorated space with wide eyes. “Whoa,” he says, clearly impressed. “This is actually pretty nice.”

“Yes,” agrees one of the men, who has a mullet and is dressed like maybe he thinks it’s still the eighties. But he’s eyeing the women in the room as he speaks.

“Remy,” scolds Laura, “please don’t flirt with my friends, they’re all in relationships. Everyone, meet my friends from work, Remy and Robbie, and Robbie’s brother Gabe.”

Gabe, who’s the one in the chair, smiles at the hosts. “Thanks for letting us crash.”

“Of course!” says Drax, beaming. “The more the merrier, although I do not know why one person could not be merry as ten. It simply depends on their moods. My name is Drax and my boyfriend Joey is over there!” Joey, who’s on a ladder across the room, waves and calls, “Hi!”

“I’m Peter Quill,” says Quill, holding out a hand. “I like your hair, Remy, is it?”

Remy grins, shaking his hand. “That’s m’ name,” he says, in a strong Cajun accent.

“You from the South?” Gamora asks, smiling to show it’s not meant as a jab.

“Sure am, _cher_ ,” he says, winking at her. “What gave it away, the accent?”

“Something like that,” Gamora says. “I’m included in Laura’s description of her friends, by the way.” She manages to make _this_ sound like a tease and also like pure truth.

“It’s a pleasure,” Remy says, offering his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Gamora,” she replies, accepting his hand warily.

He takes it and raises it to his lips to kiss it gently, then smiles. “Glad to make your acquaintance.” Mike, across the room, rolls his eyes but waits for Gamora to respond.

She stretches her face into a grin, but she very tersely says, “I’ll let that pass once because you’re Laura’s coworker. If you do that again, I’ll break your fingers.”

Remy grins and nods. “Understood, Gamora.”

“He does this with everyone, but mostly women,” adds the other man, Robbie, with a sigh. “Somehow never gets in a fight or anything about it.”

Quill looks somewhat impressed. “How do you do that?” he asks. “I mean, not that I need to know. That’s nothing I ever worry about.”

Remy grins. “It’s all about the right mix of charm and genuineness without bein’ a creep,” he says with a shrug. “An’ then sometimes you gotta know when to step into the back room.”

Carina, wrinkling her nose, tugs Nebula over. “That certainly is something,” she says, a bit doubtful. “Hi. We’re in Laura’s band.”

“Hey,” he says with a grin. “You two are the newlyweds, right? Carina and Nebula?”

“Yeah,” says Nebula, and she doesn’t sound thrilled that he knows that. “She told you, huh?”

“She mentioned that you’d gotten hitched. Not much else.” Remy shrugs.

“It’s not like it’s a secret,” Carina murmurs, trying to make light. “And at least she didn’t invite him.”

Laura chuckles. “No, Remy hates weddings.”

“That’s incorrect, _cher,_ ” says Remy quickly. “It’s the marryin’ part I don’t care for. The party, the food, the dancing, _that_ I love.”

“There wasn’t any dancing,” Carina says. “Someone wouldn’t like that.” She nudges Nebula, grinning.

“Oh, I like your tattoo!” Drax adds cheerfully, gesturing to the burning playing card tattoo on Remy’s upper arm. “I suppose you must have gone to one of the other shops for that. I hope you will consider giving us business the next time you want one!”

Remy smirks. “I’ve had this one for years, but don’t worry, I’ll definitely come to you for the next one.”

Gabe looks at Robbie pointedly. “You should go get some cookies or something, there’s a lot of options,” he suggests. “Bring me back whatever looks best?”

“Okay,” says Robbie, wandering over toward the refreshments table somewhat reluctantly.

Nebula also wanders over, eyeing him a bit warily. “So you work with Laura,” she says. “Car stuff, right?”

“Yeah. I like cars,” he says with a shrug. “You?”

“They’re okay,” she replies. “That one out front yours? It’s cool.”

“Yeah,” he repeats with a small smile. “That’s Lucy.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize dudes actually named their cars,” she says, but she’s smirking like she doesn’t actually mean it in a mean way. “Why Lucy?”

Meanwhile, Darcy is ushering all two of the other Helldivers into the room, announcing, “We’re here, everyone!”

Laura waves. “These two are my work friends, Remy and Robbie. Robbie’s over there. And this is his brother Gabe. Darcy, MJ, Rogue.” She nods at each of them in turn.

“Hey,” Darcy says, looking the new guys over. “They’re in the band. I’m a groupie.”

“I’d be honored to have such a lovely groupie, if I were in this band,” says Remy, grinning and nodding at her.

Darcy rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “You’re just saying that,” she teases. “Although on second thought, I don’t actually want any back and forth. I’m kidding, you were being complimentary, leave it at that.”

“And you,” Remy adds, glancing at Rogue, “I like the hair, _chérie_. It suits you.”

Rogue looks sort of taken aback, then flattered for half a second, then she pretends like she wasn’t and rolls her eyes. “Didn’t ask for your opinion,” she says, rolling her eyes, “but thanks.”

Darcy, looking mere seconds from cracking up, tries to catch Carina’s eye. This was probably a bad idea, since Carina may or may not actually understand that this is hilarious.

MJ, raising an eyebrow, asks, “You’re from the South, aren’t you?”

“Born and bred in Louisiana,” he says cheerfully.

“Rogue’s from Mississippi,” says MJ. “You two should talk! I’m sure you have lots of shared experiences.”

Rogue turns to glare at her. “I haven’t been there since I was a kid!”

“Still.” MJ shrugs.

“But you still have that Southern charm,” says Remy with a wink.

Rogue snorts, but then she adds, “For the deserving, yeah. You move up here recently?”

“Couple years ago. Needed a change of scenery.” He shrugs. “Been real nice so far. I think it just got nicer.”

Skye, who snuck in sometime during that conversation, nudges Darcy and hisses, “So this is like, a thing, right? With them? I’m not just seeing this?”

“I’m definitely getting a vibe,” Darcy agrees, almost like she doesn’t want to but can’t help it.

“Who’s this?” Bobbi asks skeptically, striding up.

“The name is Remy LeBeau, and who might you be?” he asks, offering a hand.

“Bobbi Morse,” she says coolly. “And I’m not really looking to add to the roster tonight.”

“Fair enough, _cher_ ,” Remy says. “I’m guessing these two lovely ladies are with you, then?”

Skye snickers and waves. “I’m Skye, and yeah, we’re with her tonight.” She grabs Jemma’s hand, somewhere between casually and possessively.

“And I’m Jemma,” says Jemma. “And Skye and I are with each other every night. Metaphorically.” She’s clearly trying to sound worldly and it’s not really working.

“You make a beautiful pair,” Remy replies. From further back, Fitz nudges Trip and makes a face. Trip rolls his eyes and grins.

Quill leans over to Gamora and murmurs, “Okay, so what exactly does this dude have that I don’t have? Nobody is getting mad at him and he’s hitting on every girl he sees!”

“I threatened to punch him,” Gamora points out.

“But you’ve _actually_ punched me a bunch of times,” he pouts. “Why’s he get a free pass?”

Gamora shrugs. “He didn’t necessarily know better?”

Quill grumbles but doesn’t try to argue; he knows there’s no point.

“Whose car is that out front?” Steve calls as he and his group walk in. “It’s gorgeous.”

Robbie perks up a little, since Nebula wandered away with barely a goodbye ten minutes before. “Mine,” he says, with an awkward little wave. “Isn’t she? ‘69 Dodge Charger.”

Steve nods at his before striding over to talk to Robbie, practically radiating excitement. “She have a name?” he asks.

“Lucy,” says Robbie, seeming surprised but pleased. “My uncle helped me find her a few years back. She was a real bargain.”

Steve smiles. “I bet you’ve put a lot of work into her, huh?”

“Sure did. I modified the engine and got her a protective coating that makes her super durable. It would take something big to leave a mark on her.”

“Must come in handy,” Steve says, chuckling in a way like he knows how useful that really must be from personal experience. He holds out his hand for a shake. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Robbie.” Robbie shakes his hand, giving him a small smile. “Seem like you know your way around cars.”

“God, don’t get him started,” says Natasha with a playful groan. “I’m Natasha, one of his girlfriends.”

Robbie gives her a polite nod and a slightly puzzled look.

“I’m the other one,” Sharon offers, grinning.

“And I’m boyfriend number one, he’s boyfriend number two,” adds Bucky, pointing at Sam.

“Number two my ass,” says Sam with a laugh.

“Uh, well, nice to meet all of you,” says Robbie, looking a little overwhelmed but shaking all their hands.

“Are you new around here?” Sharon asks him.

“Not to the area. I work Remy’s garage with him and Laura, but…”

“He doesn’t get out much,” Gabe says with a smile, coming over. “Laura finally convinced him to come out and do something. I helped.”

“I can still take you home,” threatens Robbie, but he’s obviously not serious.

“Little brother?” Bucky asks. “I’ve got three younger sisters, I know how it is.”

Robbie smirks. “He’s not so bad, except that he actually likes people.”

“Not my fault you’re a misanthrope,” Gabe replies cheerfully. “Nice to meet everyone. I’m Gabe.”

“Steve,” replies Steve.

“Sam, that’s Natasha, Sharon, and Bucky,” says Sam. “We’re kind of a unit.”

“Cool,” Gabe says brightly. “How do you know everyone?”

“I do roller derby with Gamora,” Sharon says, “and we all work across the street at the mall.”

Robbie grimaces. “Sounds...terrible, honestly. The mall part, I mean.”

“Oh, it is,” says Natasha with a smirk. “But they pay me to be a salesbot, so.”

“She’s a dancer, too,” Steve declares proudly.

“Like, ballet?”

“Yup.” Natasha looks smug. “I’m pretty good, to be honest. How about you, what do you do besides car stuff?”

“Not much,” Gabe smirks. “He’s pretty broody. I’m in school.”

Bucky snickers at his joke. “What for?”

“Engineering,” Gabe says. “Which someone else could have done, if he could deal with other people enough to suffer through college, but hey. Different things work for different people.”

Robbie laughs, kind of darkly. “Not my thing, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gabe sighs, clearly joking around. “It would have saved me money on textbooks to just steal your old ones, though.”

“Sorry to be inconvenient,” teases Robbie.

Across the room, Kara is tapping Skye on the shoulder, then offering a hug. “How’s the night going so far?” she asks.

“Just getting started, so pretty standard,” Bobbi offers, squeezing Kara’s shoulder affectionately.

“Quill is up to his usual, and the tall one with 80s hair has a similar, yet somehow more palatable, routine,” Jemma adds, nodding sagely.

“Boy oh boy,” says Karen, rolling her eyes. “Palatable appealing, or palatable… you don’t wanna hit him in the jaw?”

“Mostly the latter,” Jemma says. “Though I don’t expect I’m the girl to ask.”

Skye snickers. “Yeah, he’s....interesting. He will back off if you tell him to, though, so that’s something.”

“Fair enough,” Karen chuckles. “Y’all are looking very… somber tonight.”

Bobbi, Skye, and Jemma look at each other - they’re all wearing black, to varyingly emo degrees - and shrug. “We’re in mourning,” Bobbi says.

“But we brought glitter for midnight,” Jemma adds.

“You guys heard about Carrie Fisher, right?” Skye asks. When they both nod, she adds, “Apparently she loved glitter and she would use more of it the worse she was feeling, so we decided to just go all-out in her honor.”

“That’s cute,” Kara says. “I, uh, I bet she’d like that?” She sounds a bit hesitant, not because she actually doesn’t bet that but because she’s unused to such trains of thought.

“We thought so,” Bobbi says. “We’ll share, if you’re interested.”

“Hell yeah,” Karen laughs.

Robbie’s moved on to Elena, and is talking animatedly with her in Spanish. Matt, whose Spanish is a little rusty but who is always up for a challenge, goes over to introduce himself. Soon the three are talking about Matt’s cagefighting, and both Elena and Robbie seem very interested.

Foggy, left alone with Claire and Candace, pouts. “Well, I’m the odd man out,” he says. “Maybe I’ll call Marci. That’ll teach them to abandon me!”

“Matt’s drama queen responses are rubbing off on you,” Claire says, rolling her eyes.

Bruce and Mack come over and Mack waves. “Hey! Foggy, right? Law school guy?”

“That would be me. What’s up?”

“Oh nothin’, just wanted to say hi. How’s that going for you?”

“We’re not abandoning you, nerd,” Karen calls as she and Kara saunter back over. “Just mingling. You can mingle too.”

“I’m mingling! Look at me mingle!” Foggy says, jutting out his chin proudly.

Bruce chuckles. “It’s okay, I’m bad at it too.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to talk to people you didn’t walk in the door with for it to be mingling,” Karen points out. “This is a good start, but c’mon.”

“He was just about to tell Bruce and I about law school,” says Mack, grinning. “Does that satisfy you?”

“Depends,” Karen says. “Let’s hear it, Fog.”

Foggy makes a face at her and says, “Well, so this semester I had a class in…”

 

* * *

 

People are either dancing or chatting with each other, and everyone seems to be having a good time, even Quill, who is sitting in the corner quietly wiping at tears since George Michael’s “Monkey” is playing. In the middle of the dance floor, Darcy - currently with phone in hand - practically screams. “My eyes!”

Immediately Carina exclaims, “What’s wrong?”

“ _Krynnic_ ,” Darcy says, as if it’s the worst swear word in the world.

“I don’t think I know what that is,” Cessily says, looking puzzled.

“Only the new worst ship in the galaxy,” Darcy says, thrusting her phone into the crowd. “I came out to have a good time with nice space warrior husbands and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“I know all of what you just said were real words, but I still didn’t understand any of them,” says Laura.

Darcy sighs. “So in _Rogue One_ , which if you haven’t seen it I’m taking you, the main girl is Jyn Erso and then the subcommander of the space Nazis is what’s-his-butt Krennic. Because the other men in the film are lovely but not white, some people decided it would be an awesome idea to advocate a romantic relationship between the two characters, despite the fact that Krennic literally killed her mom, tried to kill her, and blackmailed her dad into being a space Nazi. Or continuing to be one after he decided to stop.”

“What,” deadpans Nebula. “That’s stupid. I mean, the whole shipping thing is stupid, but that’s extra stupid.”

“Especially when you have a good-hearted, attractive, noble fox of a man like Cassian Andor to ship her with instead,” Darcy says. “But it would be fucked up anyway. Also, he’s like, old enough to be her grandpa probably. Or at least her creepy uncle.”

Elena, who wandered past in the middle of this conversation, kind of sighs a little. “I’ve always liked Diego Luna and he was really something in that movie,” she says with a grin.

“Preach,” Darcy says.

“Sorry,” Skye says, popping out from apparently nowhere with Jemma in tow, “did I hear you were talking about _Star Wars_?”

“Yes,” Darcy agrees. “Bitching about Krynnic -” she pauses so Skye can hear the dramatic tilde in her voice - “and now fawning over Cassian. Good times all around.”

Skye blinks. “What...do I even want to know what the hell Krynnic is?” Once Darcy explains, she makes a face and adds, “Yup, definitely did not want to know about that bullshit. Cassian was great though! He can captain my ship anytime, y’know what I’m saying?”

“By saying ‘y’know what I’m saying’ you make it completely clear what you’re saying,” Jemma points out, giggling.

Skye sticks out her tongue at her playfully. “I know, it’s just fun.”

“For the record, I fully agree,” Gabe announces, rolling over with a grin. “I’m already planning my Cassian Andor costume for Halloween.”

“Do it,” Darcy goads.

“Oh my god,” says Skye, grinning. “That’ll be so awesome! Do you and Robbie wanna come over sometime for a _Star Wars_ marathon? Or just you, but like, he can totally come if he wants.”

“Even if he says he doesn’t want to, I’ll drag him,” Gabe says cheerfully.

Fitz, overhearing this, groans. “Not _more_ _Star Wars_!”

“Well, _you_ don’t have to be there,” Skye points out with a grin.

“I will point out, Fitz, you did rather side with _Star Wars_ , all considering,” Jemma declares, giggling into her alcohol. “Complaints are somewhat ironic at this point.”

Meanwhile, Quill has recovered from his mourning period and is now wandering around trying to get someone, _anyone,_ to dance with him. He tries Natasha and Sharon first, who respectively laugh him off and snark at him, before ambling over to where Karen and Kara are half-assedly dancing together. “Hey,” he says, winking at Karen. “Mind if I cut in for a dance?”

“Yes,” Kara says stubbornly, wrapping her arms tighter around Karen’s waist. “We’re busy.”

“Aw,” he says with a little pout. “I’d be quick, I promise.”

“Not feelin’ it,” Karen adds, kissing Kara’s cheek.

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Kara snarks, at the same time that Karen says, “Damn straight.”

He chuckles in kind of a funny way and reaches for Karen’s arm. “I mean, I know you’re not straight, but-”

“Back off,” Kara hisses, suddenly furious. She doesn’t do anything that could be construed as physically lashing out, technically, but she does add, “She said no. Respect it, that’s easier than it seems.”

“Okay, okay,” Quill says, looking more than a little startled and backing away quickly. “Sorry.”

Karen makes sure to kiss Kara again, this time on the mouth, while Quill is still looking, after which she flashes him a saccharine smile and says, “Learn from it.”

He nods and turns to leave. (Although honestly, the chances of him learning from it are slim at best, especially tonight.)

His next attempt is with MJ, who rolls her eyes and says, kind of pityingly, “One dance, dude.” He tries not to look as relieved as he feels. It’s over all too quickly, and then she disappears in the crowd.

After a couple more rejections, he comes across Lorelei and, with a shrug, he says, “Hey there. How’s your evening going?”

“Fairly well,” she replies, raising an eyebrow. Raina is currently off making the rounds on behalf of both of them, so she’s actually getting a chance to just stand back and observe. That’s something to be said for this kind of party.

“Good.” He waits half a second before asking, “So...you wanna dance?”

“Do you think you could keep up with me?” Lorelei asks, smirking.

“Oh, totally,” Quill replies with a cocky grin. “I’m up for the challenge.”

Just then, Raina appears, grinning. “How about two on one?”

He perks up for a moment, before it occurs to him that neither of them are serious. “Oh,” he says, visibly disappointed. “Okay, I get it. You’re not serious.”

“Not right now, slugger,” Lorelei says. “Never say never, but now is not your time.”

“I don’t suppose you either?” he asks, halfheartedly grinning at Raina.

“Tempting, but no,” Raina croons.

 

* * *

 

About half an hour before midnight, Quill calls for everyone’s attention. “So,” he says. “I think it’d be kinda fun for us to each say a resolution we have for the new year. You don’t have to, totally voluntary, and they don’t have to be serious or anything. I’ll go first. My resolution is to get a girlfriend.”

Gamora snorts. “Was that a ploy to get someone’s pity?” she mutters, mostly to Nebula.

Nebula snickers. “Probably. Doesn’t seem like it really worked.”

Drax, who’s nearest to Quill, grins. “I resolve to eat a good sandwich tomorrow!”

“Uh,” says Quill, who’s explained the concept of resolutions to Drax at least three times already and has given up at this point. “That’s...good job, yeah.”

“Skip me,” says Joey with a shrug. “I haven’t thought of anything good yet.”

“Pass,” Gamora says dryly.

“Same,” grunts Nebula.

“I’m going to try harder to love everyone,” Carina offers shyly. What this means is loving herself, but that’s too much to say in front of so many people.

“I’ll pass,” says Laura. “Resolutions mostly just confuse me.”

“Me too,” chirps Cessily. “Pass, I mean.”

“I’d like to at least start saving up to go to Panama,” says Mike. “My grandpa was from there and I wanna go see some of the places he knew as a kid.”

Rogue coughs. “I’m gonna work on makin’ fewer bad decisions.” Her eyes dart over to Remy, which both Darcy and MJ, who are standing closest to her, notice.

MJ, smirking, says, “I’m gonna take some stuff less seriously.” She’s vague on purpose, but the important people know what she means.

“I’d like to be taken more seriously, actually,” Darcy says.

Kara blushes and says, “Pass.”

“I wanna try to help make shit better, however I can,” Karen offers.

Matt opens his mouth, but Foggy coughs sternly at him (they had a talk earlier, and Matt’s not supposed to resolve anything unless it’s “stop taking out my anger at fight club”) and Matt doesn’t say anything, just grins. Foggy says, “I’m gonna learn to bake.”

“No more drama,” says Claire with a little laugh. “Which I realize is something of a foregone conclusion, but it’s worth a try.”

“I’m gonna try to take less shit,” Candace declares.

“Pass,” snarks Jessica, and Luke nods agreement.

Trish rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go,” she says. “I want to increase my listener base without selling out.” She makes a face at her partners. Jessica gives her a sarcastic little smirk and a wave.

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” says Skye.

“I’d like to be able to be more comfortable with my brainstuff,” Jemma says, because sharing that with the group is in effect doing it, and she’s got some glitter to live up to.

Bobbi smiles proudly, rubbing Jemma’s shoulder. “Gonna do more weightlifting, I think,” she declares.

“I’m gonna pet more dogs,” Trip says with a grin.

Fitz smirks at him before saying, “I pass.”

“Me too,” says Bruce, almost apologetic.

“Well, I wanna go on a cross-country trip,” Mack says. “Gotta figure out a route and stuff, but I think that’d be neat.”

“I think I’ll see about joining this fighting group that Matt was talking about,” says Elena with a glint in her eye. “It sounded fun.”

“Oh god,” groans Foggy, while Claire just sighs loudly.

“Yeah, no,” says Natasha with a laugh.

Steve glances over at Bucky shyly. “Be good,” he says, in a way that implies he means something different.

Bucky gives him a secret smile and then adds, for the group’s benefit, “I dunno, maybe I’ll work on adopting another dog.” This leads to a round of groans from his partners and he teases, “Hey! What do you guys have against dogs?”

“Nothing,” replies Sam, “but you’ve already got three monsters, like hell you need another!”

“I’m going to make sure my aunt’s wedding kicks ass,” Sharon announces.

“I’m gonna keep him from adopting another dog,” Sam jokes, nudging Bucky. “And also beat this asshole when we’re running together,” he adds with a nod towards Steve.

“I’d like to continue to make good friends,” T’Challa, who came with them, says with a smile.

Lorelei shakes her head, but Raina declares, “I’m going to buy a nice dildo.”

“Oh yeah?” Quill asks, looking interested.

“I need to invest in a better one,” Raina continues, seemingly oblivious to most of the group’s horrified faces. “They’re really very convenient when you only want the best parts of something.”

Wanda, barely holding back giggles, manages to say, “I resolve to, um, keep getting good grades?”

“And I’m going to start running to exercise and not just because I like it,” says Pietro.

“I’d like to figure out what I really like that isn’t just running,” Hope offers timidly.

Gabe nods approvingly. “I want to start trying some extreme sports stuff,” he says.

Robbie gives him a fond smile but grunts, “Pass.”

“And I’d like t’ meet someone special,” Remy says with a wink at Rogue, who pretend she didn’t see it.

Quill nods. “Nice, nice. So the countdown’s coming up, everybody find a kissing partner if you’re into that!” He grins kind of hopefully and adds, “Still up for volunteers, if anyone’s looking for one.”

Pietro sidles over to Lorelei and says, “Could I talk to you about something?”

“Shoot,” Lorelei replies, sort of perplexed.

“Well, I’ve never been kissed, and I’ve honestly never cared about it, but Wanda seems like she enjoys it. So I thought maybe I’d see if I liked it any better actually doing it.” Pietro shrugs. “Would you kiss me at midnight just to see? I don’t want any more than that.”

Lorelei has to work to keep from snorting at that. “Sure, kid,” she says. “Happy holidays. Why not.”

He grins. “Thanks. I know it’s odd.”

“Not the oddest kiss i’ve ever had by a long shot,” she promises. To Raina she says, “You gonna be okay without me?”

Raina chuckles. “How about it, MJ?”

Grinning, MJ nods. “Sounds nice. I hear you’re a pretty good kisser.”

“I’m not exactly shabby,” Raina replies, preening.

As expected, the various couples and partners are getting together, and Quill glances around hoping maybe someone will suddenly appear. Which, they do, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of person he was expecting. “I hear you’re in need of a kissing partner,” Remy says, smirking. “How ‘bout it? I’ve never heard any complaints before.”

Quill opens his mouth to say no, and then shrugs. “Y’know what? Sure, dude, c’mere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remy is, of course, Gambit. Please go youtube the X-Men cartoon versions if you want to know how ridiculous his accent really is.


	128. we can understand the sentiment you're saying to us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Claire encounter a loud douchebag on campus, and witness a glorious smackdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: anti-transgender and anti-gender variant talk, general transphobia, gender binarist thinking, gender policing. Basically, Killian is angry about the bathroom bills and is being his condescending, mansplaining self. (no t-slur but he does say "freak" once)

“Help preserve the natural order of society on campus? Yes, hello, you there, are you interested in having your voice be heard in how the campus is run? No? It’ll just take a second-”

Maya and Claire are strolling by with coffee that they made in one of the empty labs (Candace definitely gifted Claire with more bags of Starbucks make-at-home coffee than any one person could drink by herself, so) and idly discussing the pros and cons of herbal medicine when Maya holds up a hand and stops. “Just a second,” she whispers. “I smell bullshit.”

She approaches the poorly decorated table out in front of the commons and in no uncertain terms asks Killian, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He blinks at her. “Well, well,” he says with a patronizing smile. “If it isn’t the campus crusader.”

“I’m honestly not even sure what you’re referring to,” Maya says, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, I’m not offended by that even though you clearly mean it as an insult, but I don’t recall the last time I directly stood in the way of any of your asshole parades.”

Killian shrugs it off and changes the subject. “Have you heard about the changes they’re making to the campus policies regarding bathrooms?”

“I’m guessing they don’t appeal to your provincial sensibilities,” Maya snarks.

“They’re going to let anyone who says they’re a woman into the women’s restroom! And vice versa for the men’s.” Killian scowls. “I mean, I would never consider lying to get access to the ladies’ room, but not everybody is as noble as I am.”

“Yeah, I can tell you’re a real stellar guy,” snarks Claire, eyeing him warily.

He ignores her and continues, “I’m just concerned about where this will end up. I mean, if we start accommodating _those people,_ well…”

“Those people?” Maya echoes. “Out of curiosity, what do you mean by that?”

“The ones who think they’re another gender. You know.” Killian sounds like he’s talking about roadkill or something else revolting. “And the health center is doing it too. They’ve started offering an ‘other’ box in the gender section on forms. I’m not even sure what that means, but it’s ridiculous.”

“So you buy into the gender binary,” Maya prompts.

“Well, it’s just a fact of biology,” he counters. “Men and women are biologically different and you’re born one or the other.”

“The fact that you’re saying that means that you actually have no idea how human biology works,” scoffs Claire. “Not that that surprises me.”

Killian scowls and seems about to respond when a presumably-student member of campus security who seems taller than she is (it’s not the shoes, it’s her commanding air) comes striding up, large walkie-talkie in hand. “What’s going on here?” she asks, looking down at Killian superciliously.

“Oh, I was just having a discussion with these two about the importance of protecting those on this campus who don’t want to have to cater to freaks who won’t obey the laws of nature,” says Killian with a shrug. “Nothing to worry about, you can move along.”

“Huh,” the woman says, tossing her hair. “Because we’ve been getting calls all day that there’s a group of bigoted instigators setting up shop out here, bothering people.”

“That’s a hateful word,” he says with a thin smile. “We’re just trying to raise awareness of an issue which affects all of the students here.”

“I’m just tellin’ you what I’ve heard,” the campus security officer replies. “Though between you and me, I’d say ‘freak’ is just as hateful, maybe more.”

“Sorry my language offends you, ma’am. But I believe it is my right as a student to be here and speak about whatever I please?”

By now, a crowd is starting to gather - Jane and Darcy, on their way to lunch; Wanda and Hope, meeting up between classes; Malcolm, who honestly looks like he was just trying to mind his own business before this got started; Peter and Gwen, who are both already on edge; a whole slew of others - and considering how Killian and the campus security officer have raised their voices it’s not a surprise. It’s been a while since there were any good campus smackdowns, and apparently everyone’s been eagerly awaiting the next one.

“That’s true,” the security officer says warily. “But the university’s policy also prohibits discrimination, especially that which creates a hostile environment at school, especially based on characteristics that I’ve been getting the feeling are your basis for calling folks freaks.”

Killian scoffs. “I’m just speaking the truth, what’s hostile about that?”

“You’ve been accosting anyone walking by and forcing them to listen to your backwards-ass hate rhetoric, actually,” the security officer counters. “To quote some of the complaints.” She gives half a smirk - the most she can get away with and still stay professional.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” he replies with a shrug.

“I guess I’m not being obvious enough,” she sighs. “Let’s try this again. You’re verbally harassing students and I don’t really wanna suffer through a full afternoon of complaints and knowing that I didn’t do anything to stop them.”

He sighs dramatically. “So what do you want me to do about that?”

“How about you pick yourself up and leave all of us alone,” the officer says, trying for patient.

“Isn’t there any other way?” Killian asks. “Maybe if I just sat here and didn’t talk to anyone who didn’t talk to me first?”

“Go make a hate blog online like the other sorry sons of guns,” Darcy calls from the crowd, trying to disguise her voice with a bad British accent so nobody knows it’s her (they all know).

The security officer tries not to laugh. “How about you go on your way peacefully and we don’t run into trouble,” she says flatly.

“Fine, fine,” says Killian, going to gather up the pamphlets on the table. “Everyone is so sensitive these days.”

“I know that’s easy to say when you’re used to the whole world catering to your every whim,” she snaps, fingering the taser on her belt. “But there’s a whole big ol’ world out there that’s gonna keep being its so-called freakish self no matter what you say or do, so in my opinion? It’d be a lot easier to accept it and try to have a little more of an open mind.”

He doesn’t reply, grumbling to himself as he finishes packing up the table and shoves his way out of the crowd. Most people nearby hear what he’s saying, but it’s the kind of things nobody would want to repeat.

“Juvenile,” the security officer scoffs, nodding respectfully to the crowd before heading off the opposite direction.

“Who was _that_?” asks Hope.

“Must be that new security officer,” says Gwen, staring after her. “Misty...something…”

“Knight,” Jane says. “Saw it on her nametag.”

“That was badass,” Darcy declares.

Malcolm grins. “Maybe now he’ll keep his mouth shut more often. We can hope, anyway.”

“Okay, so what was he talking about?” Peter asks, eyebrow raised. “Like, I got the gist, he was being a bigoted asshole about something, but I’m not sure what.”

Maya sighs. “I guess the MRA brigade got wind of some changes the college is making,” she says. “Ones that, to their great disgust, actually work to be inclusive toward students who don’t fit cishet boxes.”

Peter makes a face. “Oh. So, same old, same old.”

“Pretty much,” Maya agrees. “New day, new excuse to be a dick to people that aren’t him.”

Wanda makes a face and adds, “I guess we’d better be prepared for them to pop up again, some other way. I suspect this isn’t the last we’ll hear of this.”

“Something something resistance rebellion hope?” Darcy says, shrugging hopefully.

Peter snickers. “Something like that, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m exhausted,” sighs Misty, settling down at the bar.

“Oh yeah?” Luke asks, nudging her usual drink towards her. (She doesn’t have to ask for it anymore.)

“Who knew so-called liberal university students could be such pretentious dickwads?” she cracks. “Oh, wait.”

Luke chuckles. “Seems to come with the territory a little. You wanna talk about it?”

“Just your usual straight white douchebag acting like his word is law,” she declares. “More annoying than dangerous.”

“Oh, is that all,” he replies. “So you’re getting back into old habits, then?”

“Not my fault we got calls complaining,” Misty shrugs. “Had to go stop it.”

“Course,” nods Luke. “Everything get sorted out?”

“Hopefully,” Misty says. “I kinda wish he’d gotten aggressive. Little jerk needed to get tased.”

Luke snorts. “Don’t get too drunk on power, Misty.”

“No, I was planning on getting drunk on alcohol,” she cracks. “It’s a lot more effective.”

“True. Anything else I can get you? I’ve got a break coming up in a few minutes.”

“Get me started on another,” she encourages. “You know how I like ‘em.”

As Luke’s about to step away from the bar on break, Jessica and Trish wander into the bar. “Did we get here in time for you to pour for us?” Trish asks sweetly.

“Just for you two,” Luke says with a wink, starting their drinks.

“Much obliged,” drawls Jessica, sitting down at the bar. Then she notices Misty. “Oh hey. Misty, yeah?”

“That’d be me,” Misty agrees. “You’ve got me at a disadvantage, though.”

“Yeah?” Jessica asks with a lazy smirk.

“Yeah,” Misty says. “Something’s going on here, I know that dopey look on his face.”

“Trish,” says Trish, waving.

“I don’t have a dopey look,” mutters Luke.

“You kinda do,” says Jessica. “Jessica. He might’ve mentioned us. Or maybe not.”

“Not yet,” Misty says diplomatically. “Hasn’t been a lot of time for personal chit-chat between drinks and complaints.”

“Makes sense,” replies Jessica with a shrug. “We’re…” She scowls for a second as if thinking about how to finish the sentence before finally saying, “...his partners.”

“Romantically,” Trish supplies. “Y’know.”

Misty gives them both appraising looks. “Not bad,” she tells Luke, grinning.

Luke smirks. “Glad you approve.” To Trish and Jessica, he adds, “Misty’s doing campus security.”

Jessica makes a face. “Sounds shitty.”

“Some days it’s at least hilariously shitty,” Misty deadpans.

“You new in town?” Trish asks.

“Sorta,” says Luke, glancing at Misty in case she wants to elaborate.

“I’ve been here a couple months,” Misty says. “Keeping kind of a low profile so far.”

Jessica nods. “Don’t blame you. So you know Luke just from the bar, or…?”

“We grew up in the same neighborhood, sorta,” Misty explains. “Knew a lot of the same people.”

“Yeah, we go way back. Don’t say it, Jones,” Luke adds, when he hears Jessica laugh a bit. “We had a thing awhile back, but we were in high school. Didn’t last very long.”

“What did you think I was gonna say?” Jessica asks, trying (and failing) to look innocent.

“Nothing good.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not out to steal your man,” Misty chuckles, though she does give Jessica a wary look. “That’s history.”

Jessica snorts. “Oh, no, I don’t care about that. I was just gonna make fun of him for his high school dating history.”

“Yeah, well, I promise he’s not the most ridiculous item on my dating roster,” Misty cracks.

“He’s not ridiculous,” Trish says affectionately, sipping her drink.

“Elaborate,” Jessica says. “Pretty sure I’ve got you beat on shitty exes.”

“Oh, not shitty per se,” Misty shrugs. “Just… fraught with drama.” She raises an eyebrow. “Were you inviting questions or should I leave it alone?”

“I can talk about it. I just need to have more drinks first.” Jessica glances at Luke, who smirks and ambles over to pour her another.

“You don’t have to,” Trish says softly. “Right now or ever. I’m sure Misty wouldn’t mind.”

“Nah,” Misty says, though now she’s a little curious.

Jessica shakes her head and downs the shot Luke passes her. “She should know what she’s getting into if we’re gonna hang out or whatever. So basically, I met my worst ex at a cast party for one of Trish’s plays, and he was at least a decade older than me. We went out for a while, it was skeezy, and I finally broke it off. He decided the best response to that was to stalk me and leave me weird messages on my phone, even though I tried blocking his calls, so then I...took care of the problem.” She drinks another shot, which Luke had prepared while she was telling the story. “And we moved out here.”

Misty’s eyebrow shoots up. “Took care of sounds a little fishy.”

“It’s not exactly bar talk,” Trish says cautiously.

Jessica shrugs. “I’m not gonna get into details in public, but you can fill in the blanks, I’m sure.”

Misty takes a second to think, then nods. “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do,” she says. “Guessing nobody ever caught on.”

“Not that I know of,” says Jessica, smirking. “Although that’s part of why we got out. Better not to leave a trail.”

“Fair enough,” Misty declares. “I’m not gonna call my old boss and bust you, don’t worry.”

Luke tilts his head. “Yeah, what were you doing before this? I know you were always keeping an eye on everybody at home, making sure nothing bad went down.”

“Last few years I was working at the PD,” Misty says. “Just dispatch and reception. I was saving up money for school.”

“Gotcha.” Luke nods. “I could see that. Suits you.”

“I’m criminal justice at Central,” Misty explains, mostly to the other women. “Hoping if I get a fancy-ass degree I’ll have a little more leverage at whatever bureau I end up with, then I can get more shit done right.”

“Nice.” Jessica gives her a respectful nod before taking another drink. “Could use more cops that don’t just lie down when bad shit’s happening.”

“Yeah,” Misty says. “Hear that’s kind of a problem around here, sadly.”

“We’ve had some issues,” Luke says with an eyeroll. “We weren’t around for some of it, but there’s a gang that likes to make trouble and a friend of ours got mixed up in them. Her ex fucked with her head and then stole her dog.”

“I heard about that, sort of,” Misty says. “You know Murdock and Nelson, I’m guessing? They were telling me a little about it after class.”

Trish grins. “All the cool kids wind up knowing each other somehow.”

Jessica snorts, sort of fondly. “Yeah, we’re kind of one giant dysfunctional family around here. For better or worse. Sometimes a lot worse.”

“Well, not all,” Trish chuckles. “We tend to keep the Nazis out of the family bonding time. But the somehow-alt weirdos tend to belong in the circle.”

Luke nods. “They’re good folks. Always someone around if you need company.” He chuckles. “Sometimes if you don’t need it, too.”

“Isn’t that how it always goes?” Misty shrugs.


	129. you don't have to fight the bad guys, throwing punches out into the black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At girls' night out, everyone learns that they have all had a trying week.

“I really needed this,” says Elena, grabbing the glass that’s set in front of her and taking a long drink. “Has it been as crazy a week for the rest of you?”

“Oh my god, yeah,” Tegan groans, rolling her eyes. “Beginning of the year… retail… madness? Is that a thing?”

“It might as well be,” Bobbi sighs.

“It’s definitely a thing,” nods Natasha. “Maybe it’s worse in clothing places, I dunno, but I hate December and January. _And_ everybody has the holiday on Monday, so it’ll be shitty again.”

“December makes sense,” Sharon says. “January… is a little bit more of a mystery. It’s like everyone resolved to be a shitty shopper.”

Maria snorts. “That would make sense. It usually cools down by March, but we’re in for a few more weeks of shit.”

“Goodie,” grumbles Skye, taking a sip of her drink.

Jemma leans against her girlfriend and sighs. “I don’t think the crummy people who come for ice cream are a seasonal problem,” she declares. “When they’re not screaming children, they’re parents denying their screaming children abrasively. The worst is the ones who get preachy about it, all ‘do you really _need_ that?’ like they’ve put their child on a diet. I understand too much ice cream is no good, but… you can tell the difference between the practical parents and the ones who weight-watch uncomfortably.”

Elena wrinkles her nose. “That’s no good. Ice cream shouldn’t be judged.”

“And no parent should manage their children like that,” Jemma says vehemently. “The poor things. They’re likely to develop anxiety about their appearance that’ll last forever, if their parents are like that all the time.”

Skye pets her hair. “Sorry. I mean, I just have to deal with annoying hipsters, which, don’t get me wrong, is super annoying, but.”

“It’s possible I’m too sensitive,” Jemma sighs. “It’s just the sort of thing that starts to grate if you hear it awhile. Not to say yours isn’t, though.” She kisses her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Thanks. I do get called in for all sorts of dumb shit ‘cause I’m a manager and stuff now. Like, I had to come and help somebody the other day because we apparently don’t have a way for people to pay with cash on the floor? It was so stupid.”

“Yikes,” Sharon says, groaning. “That’s idiotic. The world still uses paper, Apple. We’re not all advanced cybertronic nonsense yet.”

“Yeah. Also people keep bitching about the AirPods. Guys, I’m sorry Apple is shitty and has terrible planning, we still don’t have them.” Skye sighs. “Oh well. The extra money helps, kind of. Means I can buy more booze to drown my woes.”

Bobbi raises her glass in a silent toast. “That is one of the advantages of managerial duty,” she agrees. “And you need everything you can get. Would you believe how many suckers propose marriage over Christmas? We have the most outstanding rush of twittering holiday brides.”

Sif snorts. “That seems like a terrible time to propose. You’re making it all about you and your relationship.”

“And yet,” Bobbi sighs. “This always happens. The grooms want to make a spectacle, or make it memorable, or do something showy in front of the bride’s family or at a time that a bride will really remember. Like a bride wouldn’t remember being proposed to no matter what.”

“Actually,” chimes in Natasha, “funny story...Clint once told me he was thinking of proposing to you at Christmas, Bob.”

Bobbi smacks her forehead. “Of course he did. Sad sappy bastard.”

Melinda chuckles. “That makes sense somehow.”

“I mean, clearly there are girls who like that sort of thing, hence the abundance of brides,” Bobbi says, “but it’s just always struck me as overblown. Of course, a lot of them are the ones who are big on family and like, tradition and closeness? Who bring ten family members to the dress appointment. Parents at dress appointments are in that same class of bad as ice cream deniers, I think.”

“Oh, no,” Sharon says.

“Ego-destroying comments galore,” Bobbi continues, nodding sagely. “All sorts of things about what brides shouldn’t wear, what they can and cannot get away with. What they should and should not do. How they should uphold… something or another.” She shakes her head. “It can be seriously disgusting.”

“Ew,” groans Skye. “Sorry, dude.” She reaches over to run her hand down Bobbi’s arm almost absently.

“Hey, I have heretofore managed to avoid the patriarchal bullshit on my own behalf, that’s something, at least,” Bobbi says, grabbing Skye’s hand for a brief second. “Pretty sure my parents are past seeing it as dramatic irony and into just absurdity, but joke’s on them.”

“Indeed,” says Elena with a laugh. “And if we only did what our parents liked, then our lives would be much sadder for it.”

Tegan looks around the table, chuckling. “In this group especially.”

Elena nods and then says, “I’ve had people coming in to do returns from Christmas and also spend Christmas money. I had no idea people were so concerned about clothing bargains.”

Natasha makes a sympathetic face. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

“They also seem to be very concerned about my Spanish. And my English,” Elena says, with the kind of laugh that means it’s not actually funny. “I speak both just fine, but you wouldn’t think so, to hear some of those people talk. It’s one thing if someone’s using a different dialect, but people have complained that they hear me speaking it at all.”

Tegan frowns. “Nothing like prissy white people getting offended that someone hasn’t bothered to be exactly like them,” she says. “I was helping a family with directions the other day, and the parents were clearly more comfortable with Spanish, so I was speaking Spanish, like a reasonable person who could do that would. Then I heard someone else across the aisle complain that people could even get away with expecting that someone would speak Spanish with them.” She shakes her head. “As if they wouldn’t expect someone could speak English if they were in a different country.”

Elena rolls her eyes. “Exactly.” She takes a drink, falling silent.

After taking a minute to make sure she’s done, Natasha says, “So, the Gap has this weird thing where they start putting out swimsuits in late December and I have no fucking idea why. And they sell! Bikinis and all.”

“I think that’s pretty common,” Bobbi says. “I know Target’s the same way.”

“It’s weird. I guess maybe people are going on vacation and stuff, but it’s fucking cold outside and I dunno who the hell wants to try on swimsuits in this kind of weather.”

“Keeping ahead of the seasons or something,” Sharon says. “You’d think you’d get swimsuits in summer and coats in winter, but the good winter coats are clearanced by October, it feels like.” She chuckles. “I had a group of teenage girls come in wanting coats the other day, acting like they were owed it or something, getting so upset that all we had was bombers and like, army jackets. Maybe bigger stores like Nordstrom get to keep winter coats in the winter, but we’re not so lucky. And besides, Charlotte Russe isn’t exactly the place to buy coats, in general.”

“Yeah, we run out of them by the end of like...September? I dunno. It’s stupid, but we don’t have that much that could reasonably be classified as a coat anyway.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“But nice fuzzy sweatshirts you have in abundance,” Bobbi teases.

Laughing, Natasha nods. “Yeah. A shitton of those. More of those than anyone could ever want.”

“Do you guys get hit on constantly?” Sif asks. “Mel and I sure do. I dunno if it’s just because it’s because we have a lot of gross dude customers or what.”

“Jealous brothers-in-law,” Bobbi says.

“Boyfriends who are jealous of their girlfriends shopping more than paying attention to them,” Sharon adds.

“Dudes are _so_ weird when they see a girl near computers,” says Skye. “It’s like they think with their boners even more than usual.”

“Delightful,” sighs Sif. “Well, a pair of them that came in tried the usual stupid sports pickup lines on poor Hope. You know, scoring and balls and idiotic things like that.”

“Oh no,” says Jemma, who much like Hope occupies the class of mall babies who seem to need protection from such things.

Sif nods and adds, “They just weren’t letting up, so I came over to check it out. She’s a smart girl, but she hasn’t really had to deal with that too much, I don’t think, at least not in a situation where she can’t just leave. Then they started in on me, and _then_ …” She looks smug. “Let’s just say I made sure they behaved themselves while they were there.”

Melinda glances proudly at her. “You handled it beautifully,” she says. “I would’ve come to help, but I was busy with other...issues.”

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Melinda sighs. “There was a woman there doing a return, and her daughter was...the phrase ‘unholy terror’ comes to mind. She was just tall enough to run around pulling everything off the racks and throwing them around. I think her mother was as taken aback as I was.”

“Ugh,” groans Natasha. “We’ve never had it _that_ bad over at the Gap. That sounds horrible.”

“Yes, her mother and I had to chase her around for a while and then she had to physically pick up the kid and carry her out of the store. I almost felt bad for her, but then it took us twenty minutes to get the store back to anything resembling normal.”

Sif gently squeezes her hand and then nods in agreement. “At least the creepy dudes left without making a mess. And Hope was okay, after a short break. I think she might’ve texted her girl for reassurance.”

“That is an advantage of girls,” Jemma says fondly, nudging Skye and Bobbi in turn.

Skye kisses her cheek and then adds, “Sorry you guys had such a shitty day.”

Melinda shrugs. “Honestly, I’ve had worse.”

Bobbi smirks. “Still.”

“You could’ve called us,” Maria says, clearly meaning herself and Tegan. “Not that we weren’t having a great time of it ourselves - I swear, shoplifters and disruptive assholes all picked this week to do their worst - but we would’ve figured something out.”

“All of these teenagers decided to strike at once,” Tegan explains, sighing. “It was an organized group _thing_ , it seemed like.”

Melinda wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, I figured you’d be busy. I didn’t want to bother you unless it was a real emergency. I got it under control.”

“I’m sure you did,” says Maria, and it doesn’t sound patronizing. “I’m still not sure whether this bunch of shoplifters was actually organized or whether it was a coincidence.”

“No, they were,” Tegan insists. “I heard a couple of them talking.”

“Oh, great.” Maria rolls her eyes. “Just what we needed.”

“So you’re saying we need to keep an eye out for yet _another_ gang,” sighs Skye.

“We don’t know much yet,” cautions Maria. “Don’t do anything crazy before we know more.”

“They seemed kind of… I dunno, feckless,” Tegan says doubtfully.

“So does Hydra,” Natasha replies darkly. “And look at what they’ve gotten away with.”

Maria nods. Then she glances at Tegan and says, a note of pride in her voice, “This one managed to catch her first runner, though.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Tegan says shyly, shrugging her shoulders.

“Nicely done, though,” Melinda says with a nod.

Tegan blushes. “Thank you,” she says. “It was kind of exciting, anyway.”

“Nothing too fancy, but very efficient,” Maria adds. “It was well-done.”

“I think we all deserve another round of drinks for surviving this week,” Skye says. “How about it?”

“Hell yeah,” Bobbi says, waving their waiter over.


	130. oh, but our horizon tends to be deceiving, you never quite know where it's at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret internet hears about a suspicious party happening, so they decide to infiltrate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: casual racism, sexism, some ableism, etc. from antagonists.

**Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Asha,_ 19-January-2017

_I’m guessing I’m not the only one who’s seen this, but just in case._

_ _

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 19-January-2017

_WOW. That’s very...how do you do fellow kids…_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 19-January-2017

_I’m guessing the dog means it’s not Hydra, at least?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _EnPointe,_ 19-January-2017

_Yeah...that’s about all it has going for it. This honestly looks like somebody who maybe wants to start Hydra Junior. Is there a way some of us can infiltrate this?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _ProfessionalStudent,_ 19-January-2017

_What do they even mean by “young people”?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _littlehope,_ 19-January-2017

_College-ish, maybe? I hope not younger. I don’t like this._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _TheSplendid,_ 19-January-2017

_Maybe under 24? Who aren’t me, because I’m un-volunteering myself on the grounds of my old people partners wouldn’t pass but also wouldn’t let me go without them._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Thesmophoria,_ 19-January-2017

_...volunteering for what?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 19-January-2017

 _I mean, we all saw_ Rogue One, _right? Time for us to crash this party._

 **Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Asha,_ 19-January-2017

 _Nice sentiment, but everyone in_ Rogue One _died._

 **Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 19-January-2017

_Fine, fine, but you get my point. We can go undercover as, like, people who are totally interested in whatever these guys have to say._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 19-January-2017

_Undercover? I don’t know about that._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _InYourHead,_ 19-January-2017

_Well, I doubt our real selves are the sort of people that would be welcome in a would-be gang. Queer and neurodivergent and racially diverse and such._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _TrueKnight,_ 19-January-2017

_Well I can’t exactly hide the last one :P but I’m not scared of a few Hydra rejects._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _WendyDarling,_ 19-January-2017

_So what do you propose? If we’re working off the secret internet, the eligible candidates are me and Kara, Akela, Skye, Jemma, Fitz, Trip, Wanda, Hope, Darcy, Nebula, and Carina. Btw._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _FuckOff,_ 19-January-2017

_Yeah, gonna opt out of that one. Not thinking you guys would appreciate the inevitable knifing that would happen._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _SunbeamBerry,_ 19-January-2017

_I’ll opt out, too, but I’m sure there’s something we could do to help? There are always… backstage people. In spy movies. Right?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Monkey,_ 19-January-2017

_I might be able to make us all microphones to wear while we were there? That way you two could listen in and take notes._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _FuckOff,_ 19-January-2017

_Better than having to actually be part of this disaster in the making._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Asha,_ 19-January-2017

_Also, just sayin’, that list of us looks a little too mostly-ladies to be prospective gang members. Obviously, I volunteer Ian._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Asha,_ 19-January-2017

_And Rogue, Laura, MJ, Hannah, Bereet, and Tegan. I just mass-texted. Not that that helps the problem of us being all girls, but they’re down for whatever._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _InYourHead,_ 19-January-2017

_I can convince my brother to come._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _WendyDarling,_ 19-January-2017

_Matt and Foggy will come. Just asked._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 19-January-2017

_I can text Mack’s brother and his bf, and Robbie. Jem, can you ask Gwen and Peter?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 19-January-2017

_Consider it done._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 20-January-2017

_Okay, everybody I talked to is on board. Thomas also pointed out it might be smart if we weren’t all our super queer selves and maybe we should pick fake dates, those of us who aren’t paired off guy-girl?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Asha,_ 20-January-2017

_Hey, Rogue’s stuck with Ian. I’m using my womanly wiles for flirtatious advantage._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _InYourHead,_ 20-January-2017

_Pietro and Hope agreed they can go together, which is fine since I know he won’t make her uncomfortable. Anyone have a suggestion for me?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 20-January-2017

_I could talk to little Mack? He’s a nice dude._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _InYourHead,_ 20-January-2017

_That would be fine, yes._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 20-January-2017

_I have a terrible feeling I know where this is going._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Monkey,_ 20-January-2017

_Oh no._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _TrueKnight,_ 20-January-2017

_Would you rather you and Skye and me and Jemma?_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Monkey,_ 20-January-2017

_No. >.> _

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _PrincessDoctor,_ 20-January-2017

_Hey! I’m a fucking delight! And I wouldn’t be too mean to you or anything._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _Mockingbird,_ 20-January-2017

_(Yes, yes she really would.)_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 20-January-2017

_HEY! I thought you were on my side!_

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _SpineUnwind,_ 20-January-2017

_I’ll need a date as well, I guess._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 20-January-2017

_Maybe each of you can take Thomas and Mack?_

_I feel like this is in some weird old movie where we’re auctioning off boys to the highest bidder or some shit._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _BoyScout,_ 20-January-2017

 _This is… pretty much the plot of_ Oklahoma! _Although that’s boys bidding on girls’ baskets._

_Literal baskets. Don’t get dirty._

**Re: Graffiti of a Suspicious Nature •** By _TinMan,_ 20-January-2017

_HAHA BASKETS_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, everyone,” calls Natasha, smiling wryly. “Welcome to Heterosexuality 101.”

“Featuring guest speakers: some heterosexuals!” adds Sam, sweeping his arm over to Clint and Laura, who are seated in folding chairs at the front of the room. Clint stands up and bows while wearing a shit-eating grin, while Laura waves sheepishly, not bothering to correct him since for all intents and purposes that’s them. There’s a chorus of snickers.

“First of all, a definition.” Natasha wheels over a small whiteboard on wheels and uses a marker to point to it. “Heterosexuality: sexual attraction to people of the ‘opposite’ gender. Supposing, of course, there are only two genders and they’re opposing, which there aren’t,” she adds with a roll of her eyes, “but typically it means men who are attracted to women only and women who are attracted to men only.”

“That sounds so boring,” Darcy calls, because she’s going to be the disruptive one in this class and she knows it.

Natasha snorts. “I know, right? But it’s how a lot of people are, so just roll with it. If you’re gonna pretend to be heterosexual you gotta pretend you’re _only_ attracted to guys or girls.”

“What… does that entail?” Jemma asks suspiciously.

Sam shrugs and replies, “If you’re a girl and you only like girls, pretend you only like boys. And vice versa. Try to hold hands with your date sometimes or put your hand on their arm or back. Basically however you are if you’re with someone right now.”

Jemma casts a glance at Fitz, one that could best be described as “despairing.” Fitz makes a face right back.

“But, uh,” Hope chimes in. “Shouldn’t it mostly be the boys initiating? Aren’t boys… like that?”

Bobbi, who came to even out the boy-girl numbers amongst the teachers, shrugs. “Some boys. It’s weird. Some boys get really intimidated by forward girls.”

“I think the point is, you can decide ahead of time what kind of couple you want to be,” Sharon suggests.

“We’ll demonstrate some scenarios for you,” Natasha says. “Let’s say Clint and I are on a date.”

Clint makes a face, but nods as she comes over to stand next to him. Natasha reaches over and puts her arm around him, and hisses, “Act like a dick and squirm away from me.”

Clint does, then decides to add, “Don’t do that, babe,” in an exaggerated frat boy voice.

Natasha snorts but lets it go, then murmurs, “Now reach over and squeeze my ass.”

“ _Really_?”

“I’m not gonna hit you for it, just do it!”

Looking as if maybe he expects the smiting of an angry god, Clint reaches over and barely pinches her butt. There’s a wave of giggles in the audience.

“That’s for if you want to look like a frat boy,” Natasha says. “You could also spend the evening with your arm draped over the girl, kind of possessively. James, c’mere, you know what I mean.”

Bucky nods and comes over, draping his arm over her like the platonic ideal of a frat boy claiming ownership of his girlfriend. She adds, rolling her eyes, “Girls, you can put your hand in his back pocket if you want, but it’s a little high school.”

“You’ll notice,” Bobbi adds archly, “what may pass for a boy to initiate, a girl could never pull off. No heterosexual girl who wasn’t outrageously drunk would imagine pinching her boyfriend’s ass in front of all of his friends, for example.”

“Heterosexuality sucks,” Jemma declares. “And I don’t even care about ass pinching.”

Skye nods. “I mean, I wouldn’t, but I’d like to feel free to pinch my girl’s ass if she was into that.” She bumps her shoulder against Jemma’s.

“But it’s different with queer girls,” Bobbi explains. “Boys too, probably, I don’t know, I’m not one of those. You know. There’s an inherent implied power dynamic in heterosexual relationships that there isn’t in most girl-girl ones, and ass pinching enforces that.”

“That’s messed up,” says Hope, frowning.

“And even most feudal lords don’t put up a fight if their handmaid gets grabby,” Darcy says wisely, nodding as if it’s some great pearl of truth.

“Yup,” says Natasha with a nod. “And you can’t all be part of a respectful couple, or they’ll get suspicious. So some of you have got to play the shittier parts, unfortunately.”

Fitz wrinkles his nose. “I’m not grabbing anyone’s ass, thanks.”

“We could be the couple who came to the party in the middle of a fight,” Jemma suggests eagerly. “Then we wouldn’t have to touch each other at all. Just make passive-aggressive remarks and stomp around.”

Looking relieved, Fitz nods. “Sounds good to me.”

“Chet’s a total frat boy,” Tegan announces, grinning.

Sam narrows his eyes. “Who’s Chet? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Oh, since the numbers are still a little iffy and I’m sure as fuck not wearing a dress, I’m Chet,” she replies. “He’s a real douche, nowhere near as good as Bereet deserves, but what are you gonna do? It’s that kind of setting.”

Wanda snickers. “You seem like you’ve really done some thinking about this character.”

“Wouldn’t be a good spy if I didn’t,” Tegan says, clearly proud of herself.

Thomas clears his throat. “I’m also going to nominate myself and Peter and Ian for being the shitty hets,” he says. “Given… well, you know.” Able-bodied and conventionally attractive normative whiteness. “That’s what they’ll expect, and they’ll be watching us more than some of you. No offense,” he adds, squeezing Mack’s hand. “It’s just that they have ideas. And those ideas are about guys that look like us, because that’s the guys they want to glorify.”

“All right,” says Ian, slightly bewildered. “I’ll… practice.”

“You can tell me to go get you a beer or something,” offers Rogue. “An’ tell me to do other stuff for you. Order me around and stuff.”

“Can I have an example?” Ian asks of the instructors.

“Sure,” says Bucky. “Hey, babe, go get me a beer.” He reaches over to smack Natasha on the ass, who just looks like she might laugh. “Or you could say like, we’re gonna go dance, and drag her over to the dance floor.”

“Show us how to dance heterosexually,” Ian says. “I… don’t think I know how to do that either.” He glances at Darcy sheepishly.

“I’m guessing you don’t just mean show the boys how to lead,” Steve says. “Which unfortunately is going to be a requirement here.”

“Here,” says Sam, starting a song on his phone and then sliding up behind Natasha to grind on her. “Sorry,” he mutters in her ear.

Natasha, who’s playing along and dancing too, chuckles. “I mean, this isn’t so bad,” she replies. “Could be worse. You know I like your dancing.”

“Wow, get a room,” snorts Bucky.

“That’s a good point, actually,” Sharon says. “Think of every time you’ve been glared at for being too demonstrative in public with your person or people. Then multiply it by five and that’s what heterosexuals can get away with.”

“What if we’ve never, uh… what if that’s never happened?” Gabe asks quietly, apologetically. “What’s the standard you’re referring to?”

“Well, one time I kissed Sharon pretty quickly on the lips after lunch and this old guy looked like he wanted to come over and talk shit to our faces,” Natasha says. “But I’ve actually made out with James in public and nobody’s ever said anything. We maybe made them a little uncomfortable, but not for that reason.”

Skye nods. “I was out with these two seeing _Rogue One_ again,” she nods at Jemma and then Bobbi, as if it wasn’t obvious, “and I guess three girls holding hands was too fucking much for some dudebros because I honestly thought they were gonna fight me in the theater afterwards. The ushers showed up and nothing happened, but boy did it piss them off that I had two hot girls with me.”

“I’m pretty sure they were the kind of dudebros that were already pissed off at _Rogue One_ , too,” Bobbi says. “Protip: if anyone in the gang asks you what you thought of _Rogue One_ , you didn’t like it.”

“But it was really good,” Hope says.

“Not to guys like that,” Bobbi replies, shaking her head.

“Yeah, make up some bullshit about how nothing happened or something,” Skye adds. “I heard someone bitching about that the third time I saw it.”

“Or just say it was too political and roll your eyes,” Darcy suggests. “They’ll all know what you mean when you say that. Which is that there were too many brown people and the main character was a girl.”

“ _Anyway,_ ” says Natasha, snorting. “A lot of heterosexual couples also use pet names way more than most of us, here, do. Baby, honey, sweetie, sexy, whatever.”

“Sexy isn’t a nickname, it’s an adjective,” Jemma says.

Natasha laughs. “True, but some people use it as a nickname anyway. Basically, think of the grossest most over-the-top nonsense and it’s probably been unironically used as a pet name by somebody.”

“In public, guys go more for the traditional ones,” Bobbi says. “Girls, you can get a little more creative. I encourage this, because then the guys - even the so-called nice ones - can roll their eyes fondly. Women, am I right?” She chortles mockingly, then shrugs. “There’s a whole culture of this bullshit.”

“Hey there, sugar puss,” says Peter, looking at Gwen like a cartoon villain.

She whacks him on the arm and says, “Watch it, pineapple...chunk.”

“Did you guys just come up with those off the top of your head?” Trip asks.

“Yes” blurts Peter unconvincingly at the same time Gwen says “nope.”

“There’s a list, too,” Darcy says, offering her phone. “Have at, y’all. As a single flirtin’ gal, I’m going to be sticking to ‘hey, sexy’ but you’re all welcome to experiment.”

Laura Kinney, who happens to be sitting next to her, takes it first and, after scrolling through it, looks over at Gabe (her date-to-be) and says, deadpan, “Advertisement.”

Gabe blinks. “Uh.”

“It’s on the list,” Laura says.

Robbie smirks. “I don’t think it’s actually meant to be on the list,” he says to Gabe, as if to try to reassure him.

“Okay,” says Gabe. “Well, it seems about as romantic to me as ‘pineapple chunk,’ so I just wanted to make sure.”

“I don’t have to call you that,” Laura says. “I just liked the sound of it.”

“Fair,” calls Darcy.

Gabe tries to muster up a smile. “I guess whatever works for you. I’m just pretty sure I’m not the best advertisement for any of this.”

“You’re dressed pretty neutrally,” Steve offers in an attempt to be reassuring. “We need to talk about that, too.”

Tegan snorts. “See also: why Chet.”

“Unfortunately, there are also going to be expectations about what normal ‘cool young people’ dress like,” Sharon sighs. “And I know that most of us tend to vary from that norm, at least sometimes.”

Skye makes a face. “I guess maybe dresses, huh?”

“Or skirts,” Sharon says. “Or if you have to wear pants, make them. You know.”

“ _Sexy_ pants,” adds Natasha with a smirk. “Probably tight. Or boyfriend jeans.”

“Aren’t boyfriend jeans sort of… androgynous, though?” Hope asks.

“Yeah, but if you don’t want to wear something sexy or a skirt then they’re kind of acceptable,” explains Natasha.

“Girls don’t necessarily have to go for low-cut tops,” Sam says. “But if you don’t normally put a lot of effort in, you probably should.”

Bucky grins. “And if you’re a dude, do the exact opposite. Just grab whatever kinda smells clean off the floor, if you don’t already do that.”

Fitz nudges Jemma. “Should I go buy new clothes?”

“Maybe borrow something from someone,” Jemma says after a moment of deliberation, making a face. “Terrible straight boys don’t dress as consciously well as you do.” She’s a bit biased, given that there are literally a few outfits in his closet that could be mistaken for outfits in hers, but still.

Skye has a mischievous grin as she asks, “I have a sexy miniskirt and fishnet stockings. Can I wear those?”

“Do not for the love of god go undercover as Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way,” Bobbi says, sighing. “This party is alternative to something, but I’m pretty sure it’s not so alternative its mindset includes the thought ‘no preps or posers allowed.’”

Sharon snorts. “Polished with an edge of sexy,” she says. “Think, like… the CW. Dress like someone on the CW whose character is considered socially acceptable.”

“And isn’t some variety of monster or monster hunter,” Bobbi adds.

Skye pouts exaggeratedly. “ _Fine._ ”

“You can borrow some of mine,” Peter offers Fitz. Fitz smiles gratefully.

“Also, Robbie, no offense, dude,” adds Sam, “but tone down…” He gestures somewhat vaguely. “Whatever you’ve got going on there.”

Robbie looks perplexed. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Your whole… edge thing,” Gabe says, rolling his eyes. “You have a vibe.”

Rolling his eyes, Robbie replies, “Fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Natasha glances around the room and, after a moment, sighs. “I think that’s pretty much all we can tell you. Good luck.”

“We can’t do anything else for you,” Bucky adds, grinning.

 

* * *

 

“Should we really have come all… blobby?” Bereet asks under her breath, gesturing to the honestly suspicious group of mall-adjacent people all approaching the Warehouse on Millar together. “I’m pretty sure they told us literally not to do that.”

“I mean, we could go in waves,” Skye suggests, adjusting the front of her pink dress for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. “That’d be a super spylike thing to do.”

Jemma snorts. “And the rest of us, I suppose, would just wait in the bushes?” She’s even squirmier, given that while she got away with wearing pants they’re only barely that, fake-leather leggings accompanied by a bejeweled top that barely covers her arse. It’s not her favorite thing.

“Meow,” says Darcy, snickering and pushing up her tits.

“I’m sorry,” Jemma murmurs, genuinely remorseful and rather at a loss considering she can’t actually physically do anything to ameliorate her behavior. “I’m just nervous. And snippy.”

Skye reaches over to squeeze her hand, since there’s not really anyone else around to see. “It’ll be okay,” she says. “This is like the happy ending version of _Rogue One._ ”

“You keep saying that,” Jemma says doubtfully.

“I mean, you can pretend we’re Dumbledore’s Army if you want.”

Kara sighs, leaning a little against Matt because she knows he won’t misinterpret it as actually being anything intimate. “Are you sure tonight is just recon?” she asks the group at large.

Gabe glances over at her curiously. “As opposed to?”

“A defensive strike,” she says darkly. “The last thing this town needs is another gang of dangerous fuckheads.”

“We can’t give them so-called leverage,” Thomas chimes in. “That’s not me saying we shouldn’t do anything, believe me, but it’s a fine line. You know?” He frowns. “Guys like this look for reasons to feel attacked. If and when we do… whatever we ultimately do, we have to be able to keep people, ourselves included but not exclusively, safe.”

Foggy nods, looking a little nervous. “Everybody be cool, okay? Just...no matter what, be cool?”

“What do you mean, ‘cool’?” Matt asks.

“Don’t...don’t do anything that might start a fight.”

Hannah’s phone buzzes. “Carina says she seconds that,” she announces, smiling sheepishly. “And I third it. I don’t… really want to… yeah.” She makes a face. She’s pretty sure it’s clear that what she means is “be around that,” but it sounds a little too pathetic.

Matt nods, though he looks somewhat reluctant. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

When they enter the warehouse (in a mob, because, despite Skye’s best efforts, nobody wants to duck into bushes and wait), they’re immediately hit with a wall of noise. Most of it is coming from the dance floor in one of the far corners, which is crowded with people, but there are also dozens milling around talking and laughing.

“I already hate this,” grumbles Fitz.

“I do too, but we can pretend we disagree, and that’s the foundation for the evening,” Jemma says, then raises her voice to add, “Wow! There’s a lot going on.”

Darcy snickers. “Keep working on that,” she says. “I’m going to go see what I can do.” And she drifts off into the crowd, grinning vacuously.

“Some of us should go dance,” MJ says. “Y’know, get to know some people. Look normal. Anybody wanna join me?”

“C’mon, babe,” Tegan says in a lower voice, adjusting her trucker hat and reaching a hand out to Bereet. “Let’s get dirty.”

Bereet tries not to laugh. “Whatever you say, Chet.” And they go take their places on the dance floor, watching the people around them for hints about how much to grind.

“You wanna go?” Skye asks Trip with a grin.

“Sure,” says Trip, “but I can’t guarantee I’ll be that great.”

“Please! I’ve seen you fucking around in the apartment, you’re great.” Skye grabs his hand and tugs him toward the dance floor.

Fitz grimaces. “Well,” he says, “maybe if we dance it’ll...um...mean we won’t have to pretend to be arguing?”

“Sad state of affairs, when you’d rather dance than anything else,” Jemma says, but she nods as if to encourage him to lead her out.

Fitz takes her hand gingerly and heads for the dance floor looking more like he’s heading into a cave full of hungry wolves.

“Darcy dragged you out enough that I know you can handle yourself,” says Rogue to Ian. “Wanna go for a bit?”

“Might as well,” Ian says, faking an enthusiastic smile.

Foggy grins. “I’m not grinding on you, Kar, but…”

“C’mon, we can be the classy ones,” Karen says. “Or something.”

“This is certainly happening,” Hannah declares, hoping that Robbie won’t opt for this.

Robbie gives her what’s probably meant to be a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, I don’t like dancing either. Do you wanna get a drink or something?”

“Or something,” she agrees. “I don’t really… alcohol. But I’m sure they have other stuff.” She sounds like she doesn’t entirely believe what she’s saying.

“I’ll find something for you,” he says. “C’mon.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, gently like he’s making sure she’s okay with it.

She manages a smile. “Thanks,” she says. “I don’t really do parties much, either. So.”

“I’m only here because Gabe convinced me,” Robbie replies with a chuckle. “He thinks I spend too much time at work, and in my room.”

“Some people are just more private than others,” Hannah shrugs. “No judgment.” They approach the table, and straightaway she reaches for a handful of chips, mostly to give herself something to do.

“You like soda? Or water, they might have water, I dunno.”

“Depends on the soda,” she says. “Water’s usually a safe bet no matter what, though.”

He nods. “Be right back.”

She makes a valiant effort to hold down the fort while he’s gone, assuming that the patch of concrete she’s currently standing on is a fort, but it’s just her luck that some random approaches her. “Hey,” the guy says. “Not having any fun yet, huh?”

“I just got here,” she replies, blinking.

“I mean, you’re not drinking,” he says.

“My, uh, my boyfriend, he went to get me something to drink,” Hannah stammers, really hoping that Robbie will return soon.

“Oh, hi,” Robbie says to the new guy, returning and handing Hannah a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” Hannah says, her expression signifying it’s for more than just the drink. After a second she smiles anxiously and adds, “Sweetie.”

“You with her?” the random asks Robbie, seeming suspicious.

“Yeah,” Robbie says, moving a little closer to Hannah and narrowing his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“She just mentioned her guy was getting her a drink,” he says. “I thought she meant a good one.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know,” the stranger says, and Hannah tries to hide her uneasiness. “Alcohol. Something to get her to loosen up a little. It’s a party.”

Robbie grunts. “She asked for a water, so I got her one. I’m pretty sure she knows what she wants better than you do.”

“Hey, chill out,” the guy exclaims. “I’m just trying to make sure everyone has a good time.”

“Concern noted,” replies Robbie, resting his hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “We’re doing fine here, thanks.”

“You’re sure chatty, _hermano,_ ” the guy says. He turns his attention back to Hannah and asks, “What do you think about all of this? He got your proxy?”

Hannah makes a face. “He’s not your _hermano_ , and everything he’s said is true.” The defiant tone of voice is the closest she’s getting to fighting words.

The guy takes a step forward like he might be thinking about escalating it further, so Robbie also takes a step forward and says, “It’d be smart for you to move along now.” He’s got a good three or four inches on the guy, and when he looks down on him he doesn’t hold back on the menace.

“Whoa,” the guy says, moving backward. “Like I said, we’re just hanging out here. Having a party. No need to freak.” But he’s nodding approvingly, like Robbie passed some sort of test by standing up to him, and he gives a brolike half-a-wave as he heads into the crowd.

“Thanks,” Hannah says more quietly.

“‘Course,” says Robbie. “Sorry. Didn’t realize someone might pounce if I left you alone.”

“It didn’t get too out of hand,” she says, trying to act like it didn’t shake her up some. “Guess that’s good, uh. Evidence? For… you know.” The observation of the character of these guys.

He snorts. “Guess so.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here, maybe?”

Gwen almost sighs out loud, and barely manages not to. She’s actually been enjoying this conversation, since the guy she’s been talking to isn’t immediately turned off by her discussions about reptilian biology, but of course it was leading up to that question. “I’ve got a boyfriend, actually,” she says, glancing over at a table where Peter is sitting with two other guys, all of whom are stuffing hot dogs into their mouths. “Over there.” She waves in that general direction.

“Oh,” says the guy, looking visibly disappointed. “That guy with the curly hair?”

“Yeah. That’s Peter. We’ve been together for two years.”

“He sure can fit a lot of hot dogs in his mouth,” he responds, laughing. “That seems kinda gay.”

Gwen is about to try to come up with a retort that won’t make her look suspicious when Peter, who has ridiculous hearing, calls out something that is probably supposed to be “Nuh-uh, I’m super heterosexual!” Only it comes out gibberish because he really does have a lot of hot dogs in his mouth.

She settles for rolling her eyes and saying, “So, no, gonna have to pass on the invitation.”

Meanwhile, Mack is ambling over towards where Pietro, Hope, and Wanda are standing, holding drinks. “Hey,” he says. “I did some recon, and jesus, this is not good.”

“What is it?” Wanda frowns.

“So, the guys who are throwing this party? They’re not quite an organized gang yet, but they’re getting pretty close to it. I guess some of them were at the alternative school and got tapped to be Hydra recruits, and they were totally down with the hate crimes and genocide, but I guess dog-killing was where they drew the line? Yeah.” Mack makes a face. “You guys know I love Spike, but seriously. So they told them to fuck off and are trying to start their own group. I think they’re... _less_ racist to your face? They talked to me, anyway.”

Hope winces. “They’re probably just, like, shining people on. That’s something shitty people do, yeah?”

Mack nods and replies, “Probably. Also seems like it’s a boy’s club just the same as Hydra - most of the girls here are just somebody’s girlfriend. I haven’t heard any of them talking like the guys who are part of this. Maybe they’re working on networking, but I kinda doubt it.”

“Do you think they’re all formerly Hydra?” Wanda asks. “That would be a lot of people leaving. I don’t think Hydra would stand for that.”

“Nah, I think it was a few who got the ball rolling and then some of their buddies, and some of theirs, like that.”

“Have you figured out what the dog graphic was about?” Pietro asks. “Is that just because they don’t kill dogs?”

Snorting, Wanda replies, “That’s a terrible identity.”

“The dog _was_ saying ‘grrr’ though,” Hope says, almost laughing. “Maybe it’s like, dogs’ revenge. Do you think they’re immediately dangerous?”

Mack shrugs. “Depends on how tonight goes, I think. This might be their...outreach isn’t the right word, but at least it’s their way of drumming up interest.”

“Thanks for doing that, Mack,” Wanda says with a smile. “Sorry you had to, but you’re probably the…” She hesitates, then finishes, “most convincingly normal of us.”

He laughs. “Hey, if it had gone south it wouldn’t be the first time I was in a fight.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” says a shaggy-haired blond guy, coming up to Thomas with a friendly grin. “How’re you enjoying things?”

“It’s all right,” Thomas says ambivalently. “I don’t like parties that get _too_ out of hand, so this is… it’s okay.” He’s currently playing the “what, me? I don’t feel things, I’m a man” card. It’s not his favorite, but he knows how these guys are.

The guy nods. “I get that. I’m Jason, and you?”

“Tom,” says Thomas casually.

“Nice to meet you, Tom,” Jason says, smiling easily. “What brings you here tonight? Did you see one of the flyers around town?”

Thomas nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Thought it sounded like it had potential.”

“Cool. Some of my buddies and I are kinda trying to get a little group organized, thought this might be a good way to drum up interest. You’ve been around here awhile, right? Have you noticed how this is kind of a...rough area?”

“Rougher in some places than others,” Thomas shrugs. “What’s your point?”

Jason shrugs. “My buddies and I were thinking maybe we get a little neighborhood watch-style thing going, clean things up where we can. You seem like a guy who might be good for that.”

Thomas is weighing his options to respond when Akela wanders up and says, “Hey, honey,” somehow managing not to make a face as she says it. In fact, she’s in full fake-girly mode.

“Hey,” Thomas says in return. “How’s the thing?” He shrugs toward the crowd, letting her choose what he’s asking about.

“Fine,” she says, reaching for his hand. “I just got bored of dancing without you.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “This your girl?” he asks Thomas.

Thomas nods. “Baby, this is Jason. He’s one of the hosts.”

“Hey,” Akela says, smiling (anyone who knew her well enough would know that it’s a guarded smile). “Great party.”

“Thanks,” says Jason, kind of stiffly. He adds to Thomas, “She doesn’t exactly seem like your...type.”

“Oh, we’re great for each other,” Thomas says.

Akela nods. “Sometimes I call him Darcy and I make him call me Lizzy,” she says with a giggle. “I’m a big Austen fan.”

“And you go along with that?” Jason asks Thomas, snorting.

“Girls,” Thomas says, throwing his hands up casually.

“What’s wrong with that?” Akela asks Jason, just the slightest edge to her fake-bubbly tone. “Austen was actually a social satirist as well as writing timeless romances.”

Jason laughs just a bit, maybe in disbelief. “Sure. Think you’re smart, huh?”

“Don’t just think so, I am,” replies Akela, her face the picture of innocence.

“And sassy,” replies Jason.

Akela’s lip curls just slightly. “Baby, I’m gonna go get some food, do you want anything?” she asks Thomas sweetly.

“Whatever looks good, hon,” Thomas says. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Akela leaves, making a gagging noise as soon as she’s sure no one is watching. “ _Sassy_ , christ,” she mutters. She’s so preoccupied that she almost doesn’t notice Darcy walk by, looking as annoyed as she feels. “Hey,” she says. “Looks like this isn’t going well for you either.”

“Definitely just had one of these assholes try to get under my shirt,” Darcy says. “Like, a little ogling, I expected. But that? When he said ‘hey, we’re dogs,’ I thought he just meant horndogs. Like he couldn’t help himself.” She snorts. “Apparently that’s like, their name or something. Watchdogs.”

Akela laughs. “Ridiculous. Someone should tell them that’s a little too on-the-nose.”

“So that’s where the ‘grrr’ dog came from, I guess,” Darcy sighs.

 

* * *

 

“...um,” Fitz stammers, since Jemma is pretending to be upset with him for bringing her the wrong kind of drink. “You’re, uh, really attractive when you yell at me.” It isn’t exactly convincing.

Jemma folds her arms. “What are you trying to do, exactly?” she asks, and it’s both in and out of character.

Fitz half-flails his arms around before replying, “Honestly, I’ve no idea.”

She looks about to say something in reply when she catches sight of Kara across the dance floor. She’s gone stiff, and it’s a recognizable enough expression that Jemma whispers, “Shit, I think something might really be wrong over there.”

Matt, who’s dancing close enough to Kara to seem normal but not close enough to make her uncomfortable, murmurs, “Is something wrong? Your heartbeat just spiked.”

“Someone’s wearing _his_ cologne,” Kara whispers. No need to clarify further.

“Oh. Do you want me to do anything about it?”

“Not sure,” Kara says. “Let’s just… dancing.” She tries to seem relaxed, but it’s not really working, and it’s not long before the offending party approaches. It’s not like she’s doing anything to invite a third party to join their dancing (which is not, honestly, sexy - it’s mostly just her and Matt swaying back and forth) but the guy actually has the audacity to grind up on her ass like they’re the best of sex friends.

Between that and the cologne, Kara doesn’t think twice before whirling around to punch him in the face, and she doesn’t really bother to look remorseful when, holding his nose, he stands up and turns to face her.

“What the fuck?” the guy asks.

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Move along,” adds Matt sternly.

The guy looks startled, but he doesn’t want to make a big deal about getting hit by a girl (especially letting a girl break his nose, which he’s pretty sure she did) so he hurries off the floor, embarrassed.

“Shit,” Kara says. “Maybe I shouldn’t have…”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Karen asks, approaching with Foggy in tow.

“She punched some guy who started dancing up on her,” explains Matt, a note of pride in his voice. “Also he was wearing _that_ cologne.”

“Ew,” says Foggy, wrinkling his nose. “He deserved it, then.”

“Seriously,” Karen agrees. “Sorry, hon. Make it up to you later?”

Kara manages a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh no!” Carina exclaims, head in hands. She and Nebula are sitting in the spare store with laptops hooked up to everyone’s microphones. “Did Wanda just… almost blow her heterosexual cover?”

Nebula sighs. “Yep. Not that I blame her, that dude sounded like a fuckhead, but.”

“This isn’t good,” Carina sighs. “All of these people are terrible, and Rogue and Ian had to make out, and why do we keep getting mixed up with racist gangs?”

“Just that lucky, I guess.” Nebula rolls her eyes. “Oh great, now some dudes are dragging Tegan into a drinking game. She’s fucked.”

“Let’s hope she just gets more masculine when she’s wasted,” Carina says.

 

* * *

 

Laura and Gabe are parked along the wall, doing their best to be as inconspicuous as possible, when someone (who is more than a little drunk) wanders by and asks, “Oh man, what happened to _you_?”

“Nothing,” Gabe says, nonplussed. “I’ve just been sitting here all night, taking in the sights.”

“No,” the guy says, shaking his head and pointing at the wheelchair, “I mean, why are you in that?”

Laura glares at him. “You don’t need to know that information.”

“Hey, hey, chill out,” slurs the guy. “I’m just asking a question. It’s a free country.”

“It’s a rude question,” replies Laura, “and if you ask any more questions I’m going to see how inquisitive you’ll be if I start removing your teeth, one by one.”

Just then, Gabe’s phone goes off, and he checks it. Unsurprisingly, it’s Carina.

_ >>EVERYONE GET OUT OF THERE YOUR WORK IS DONE. _

He clears his throat. “Uh, sweetie…”

“Yes?” Laura asks, still staring unblinking at the drunk guy, who’s too frightened to move.

“We, uh.” He shakes his head, trying to remember what their code for “get out now” was. He’s actually pretty sure they didn’t have one. “Your. Uh. Your sister needs the car, remember?” There is no sister. There is no car.

“I don’t have...oh,” says Laura. “Yes. Don’t ask rude questions anymore,” she adds to the drunk guy, before helping Gabe to maneuver away.


	131. I didn't plan it but the light turned red, and I ran it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a screening of _Sailor Moon R: The Promise of the Rose_ , the group runs into some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: Nazis doin' misogyny.

“I still don’t see why you made us dress up as the cats,” complains Skye good-naturedly. “And I couldn’t even be a girl cat! You made me be the stupid boy cat.”

Bobbi shrugs, brushing imaginary dust off of her Princess Serenity costume. “Well, you weren’t going to be able to pull another outfit out of your ass in a short period of time, and if you were both girl cats that would mean one of you was the other’s daughter, which is even weirder,” she points out, fully in her nerd element. “Besides, Jemma gets to be Luna because original American-dub Luna was kind of British.”

Jemma giggles, adjusting her black cat ears. “It’s warmer than wearing miniskirts in January, anyway,” she says.

“I _guess_ ,” Skye pouts. She twirls the end of the feather boa they tied around her waist to serve as a tail. “There’s probably fanfic of...this, anyway.” She waves her hand at both Jemma and Bobbi, in case her meaning’s not clear. “Y’know.”

“No,” Jemma shouts.

Skye just smirks evilly.

“I think you look adorable,” Raina, whose usual attire was completely appropriate for this movie, calls out, grinning.

“I’m glad she didn’t make us be cats,” Hope whispers to Wanda. They’re dressed normally for themselves, though Darcy did shove a space-y tiara on Hope.

Wanda giggles. “You’d be cute, but yes, I’m glad too. I don’t like wearing headbands.”

“Understandable,” Hope says, because even though that’s not a problem she has, she gets it.

“Your suggestion to pregame was a good one,” Lorelei drawls, slinging her arm around Raina’s waist. “Not that there wasn’t a certain fun to be had otherwise, I suppose, but… still.” The theater was serving drinks, which is obvious from looking at the crowd of them leaving, but they two had a private, different sort of getting ready ritual.

Which really isn’t a surprise, considering it’s Raina. “Plants,” she murmurs like it’s flirting, batting her eyelashes. “Very thematic.”

Behind them Carina pulls the slightest of faces, because she’s never going to love drugs being anywhere near her, but she shrugs. “I feel less silly in the whole group,” she says to Nebula.

Nebula smirks. “Yeah, but you look cute,” she says, too quietly for anyone but Carina to hear her.

“Well, so do you, even if you didn’t dress up with me,” Carina replies, almost smug.

That makes Nebula roll her eyes, but she just squeezes Carina’s hand rather than snark back.

“I’m going to get all of you dressing up eventually,” Darcy announces. She, of course, is flaunting her old Sailor Jupiter costume. “How cool would _that_ be? Not,” she adds hastily, to Carina, “that Jupiter and Chibi Moon aren’t perfectly cool by themselves. Ourselves.”

Carina shrugs good-naturedly. “You’re going to have a hell of a time talking this one into a tiny skirt, but if anyone could do it it’s probably you,” she says.

“Good luck with that,” says Nebula. She is at least wearing a Sailor Moon T-shirt that Carina picked out for her.

Laura wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’d like that. I’ve never worn a miniskirt before. They seem uncomfortable.”

“You can wear shorts underneath,” Darcy says, shrugging. “And at least these ones are kinda breezy. Not like they’re leather sandwiching your legs together or something.”

“I suppose,” says Laura, still sounding doubtful.

“I’ll only do it if you can convince Gamora to do it too,” says Nebula, an evil gleam in her eye.

“Good luck,” Sharon singsongs. “You realize she wears leggings under her derby shorts, even, right?” True to her own derby name, she’s wearing a t-shirt of Sailor Moon’s uniform.

“Yeah, but she’d hate this idea and not do it. So.”

Sharon shrugs and swings Steve’s arm, Steve who is wearing a full suit and a cape made of bedsheets. “She’s missing the fun,” she says.

Steve smiles. “She probably hasn’t been secretly wanting an excuse for the fun for years,” he points out, gesturing in such a way as to very much include himself in that equation.

“If I’d had time to find a wig I’d be matching,” says Bucky, pouting exaggeratedly.

“Nerds,” says Natasha. She opted for Jupiter’s uniform on a T-shirt.

“Yeah, _nerds,_ ” says Sam, nudging her with his shoulder (she nudges back).

“Whatever,” Sharon says. “You love it.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t,” he replies with a grin.

“So where to next?” asks Kara, clearly delighted.

“We could go harass Hunter at his job,” suggests Skye. “He’s working tonight, probably. It’s Saturday and all.”

Bobbi barks out a laugh. “That’s cruel and I’m totally in favor of it,” she says. “He’s said more than one allegedly complimentary but disgusting thing about the Sailor Senshi, he probably deserves it.”

“Of course he has,” Jemma sighs, though she’s smiling.

MJ grins. “I don’t have work tomorrow, so sure!”

They start in that direction, and Laura says, “Can someone explain to me why the flowers had women popping out of them?”

“Because they were evil sentient flower-demon-monster-things,” Darcy says. “Space is full of evil sentient plants.”

“But why?”

“The same reason it’s also full of humanoid villains who are named after types of rocks,” Darcy says.

“This series is very confusing.”

“Most animation is, when you get down to it,” Karen says cheerfully. “Kinda best to just let it happen and take things as they happen.”

“I suppose,” says Laura, still looking confused. “Maybe that’s why my mother didn’t want me watching too much TV. I think I would have had even more trouble with this when I was younger.”

Carina nods. “It’s really good for some kids, but probably not all of them.”

The group is involved in various conversations, so most of them don’t really notice the cluster of clearly Hydra-affiliated men standing together that they pass by. “Hey ladies,” one of them calls, “nice skirts.”

“Great,” mutters Skye. “Just what we needed.”

“Nice racist gang insignia,” Bobbi retorts, turning around to glare.

The guy who spoke chuckles, but like he doesn’t actually think it’s funny. “Oh, you’ve got a mouth, huh?” he says, smirking. “I bet it does other things besides talk back.”

“I am a biter,” Bobbi agrees brightly.

One of the other guys sneers and glances at Carina. “Nice legs, girly.”

Carina looks like she might snap back, but before anyone’s really sure what’s going on, Nebula’s pulled out her knife and jumped on the guy with a snarl, stabbing him in the shoulder. He shrieks and tries to shove her off, but she’s got a pretty good grip on him.

“I’m nobody’s _girly_!” Carina yells, bolting around to kick the guy in the side while Nebula’s still got him pinned down.

The other guys who were standing with him look a bit taken aback, but then one of them chuckles and says, “The rest of you hungry for a fight then? Bunch of girls looking for some fun?”

Kara practically growls. “Why? You scared?”

“Are you?” one of them asks, flicking open a knife.

“Hon?” Karen asks in a whisper, squeezing Kara’s hand. She recognizes that look.

“In your dreams,” Kara snaps, because while it’s not the best line, that’s never been her forte. She digs her keys out of her purse lightning-fast and swings them around, making a fist around the cute little purple kubotan Matt got for her.

“Oh, cute. What are you gonna do, _draw_ on me?”

She lets out a feral yell and dives for him, aiming the point of the kubotan toward his collarbone, and Karen, proud as she is of her girl, just steps back and reaches into her own purse for her gun. She’s not gonna take it out unless she has to, but she’s ready.

Another guy gets into a fighting stance like he thinks maybe someone else might try something, and then he calls to Bucky, “Hey, aren’t you that Bucky guy? You’re always there when we get targeted.”

“Not a coincidence,” Bucky snaps, and hits the guy with a couple of quick jabs to the gut and another to the nose.

Darcy, meanwhile, has gotten her taser out and aimed it at one of the men. “Supreme Thunder!” she bellows as it releases. Apparently he wasn’t expecting that, because he drops like a rock.

“Jesus,” says Skye. “You guys have all these badass moves and I just have cat ears.”

“You could always strangle someone with your tail,” Bobbi says cheerfully as she bashes a guy in the head with her plastic Cutie Moon Rod.

Laura, meanwhile, has stepped over to help Nebula and Carina pummel the guy Nebula stabbed. She’s almost eerily efficient, despite not actually having any weapons.

“Skye?” Jemma says anxiously. “Come here?” Not that she’s currently being hounded by any of the men, but she’d feel better not just standing around by herself.

Skye steps closer to her, grabbing her hand. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I’m not getting in the middle of it. Today, anyway.”

Natasha and Sharon have joined Bucky in beating that guy, and while the Nazi has gotten in a few lucky punches (Natasha’s got a nasty bruise forming on her cheek), he’s clearly losing. Even when he hits Bucky in the ribs hard enough to send him stumbling back with a groan, the other two hit him with a flurry of attacks.

“Guess we just couldn’t go too long without this,” Sharon quips, blowing hair out of her face.

Natasha laughs and kicks the Nazi in the ribs. “I dunno about you, but I was starting to get bored.”

“Boredom doesn’t seem quite the appropriate word,” Sharon says.

“Uneasy,” Steve suggests, tossing his cape back as he hits another Nazi in the face. “It’s not like these guys to lay low, so this is a better alternative.”

“So diplomatic,” Sharon drawls, rolling her eyes fondly.

Sam’s busy scrapping with his own Nazi, until he finally sends him sprawling with a punch to the nose. “You guys know I’m always up for a good Nazi punching,” he says cheerfully.

Most of the others who aren’t fighting have backed out of the way, and MJ is casually filming the fight with her phone. “Not that we’ll need evidence that they provoked us,” she says with a shrug, “but just in case.”

Carina, who by now has a couple of sizable bruises on her legs from where the Nazi she and Nebula and Laura are working at has landed blows, looks up and grins. “Might as well,” she says.

Laura socks the guy in the jaw, sending him reeling back and then running away. She smirks. “I’m enjoying this part of the evening.”

Darcy grins. “This is what happens if you run with the Sailor Senshi,” she declares. “Lots of awesome bad guy fighting.”

After considering this for a minute, Laura nods. “I see.”

By this point most of the Nazis are either not getting up or have run away, and Wanda points out, “As enjoyable as I’m sure that was, we might want to make ourselves scarce now.”

Jemma nods, looking slightly alarmed. “Yes, let’s get to a place where we can all sit down and be checked for injury, shall we?” she says, voice high.

“Applebee’s?” Skye suggests. “I mean, if nothing else somebody can vouch for us there, if the cops come knocking.”

“We were headed there anyway,” Jemma agrees.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a slow night, so Hunter’s not really expecting much to happen in the last few minutes before closing. He’s _definitely_ not expecting to look out the window and see a small crowd of disheveled women, half of whom are wearing brightly colored outfits.

“Um,” he says, calling to Trish, who happens to be the closest person. “Are you seein’ this too, or have I snuck a little too much?”

She follows his gaze. “No, that’s definitely happening for real,” she says. “What it is is another matter.” As the group turns in toward the entrance, she raises her voice to shout, “Closing time! Everyone settle up and move out.” There will be stragglers, but it should help somewhat.

Hunter frowns. “What?” Then he recognizes Bobbi as one of them and groans. “Oh, don’t tell me they’ve gotten into it with the Nazis again.”

“Look, I don’t know,” Trish mutters. “I just figure they’ll need a place to regroup. And we are almost closed, anyway.”

As the last few patrons are wrapping it up, the group of women enters, all grinning. Bobbi seems to be more or less leading the way, and she waves at Trish. “We come seeking refuge,” she says cheerfully, twirling her wand-thing.

“Anyone want to tell me what the hell _from_?” Trish asks, trying to sound disapproving.

“Nazis,” says Nebula nonchalantly. “They were shitheads, so we beat ‘em up. Most of them are either on the pavement or they ran off, but we wanted to lay low just in case.”

“And what’s all this getup for?” Hunter asks, smirking. “Not that it’s not working for me, but.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes, but before she can say anything Jemma cuts in, huffing, “We were seeing a film.” The rebuke is in her tone.

Jessica, who’s sitting nearby nursing a beer (she’s been here since she got off work two hours ago), snorts. “Was it about a bunch of schoolgirls beating up Nazis?”

“It was about a bunch of interplanetary guardians beating up evil plants,” Darcy corrects. “So kind of, yeah.”

Hunter blinks, then seems to think better of asking more questions and just shrugs. “Is this that show with the space babes you used to like? Moon Scouts or something?” he asks Bobbi.

Bobbi cringes. “ _Sailor Moon R: The Promise of the Rose,_ so close enough,” she says. “Anyway, the space babes had some earthly ass to kick. No big deal.”

“How many of you are bleeding right now?” Trish counters.

Sam coughs. “I mean, there’s no broken bones or anything, I don’t think, but we’re pretty banged up. A decent amount of bleeding, I think.”

Trish sighs and pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Yeah, I’m gonna text Claire,” she sighs.

Sharon promptly starts giggling. “She’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing the medically minded among you don’t have first aid supplies on hand, so if nothing else, we’ll need her for that,” Trish mutters, firing off a text. “Someone should really start paying her for this.”

“Oops,” says Wanda, looking guilty. “I hope she isn’t too upset.”

“Nah, she likes helping people,” chimes in Jessica. “Besides, Matt’s way more annoying about asking her for help. The rest of us aren’t showing up at her doorstep. Except that one time.”

“Not technically,” Trish mutters, smiling ruefully.

“Not that’s it’s any of my business,” says Hunter, too casually, “but what exactly did they do to deserve the punching this time? Besides be Nazis, that’s a given.”

Nebula looks smug. “One of them said something gross about my wife, so I stabbed him in the shoulder. I guess after that everybody else kinda joined in.”

“There were insinuations that needed to be corrected,” Bobbi says with a shrug.

“Fair enough, then. Can I get anything started for you while we wait for your nurse in shining scrubs to show up?”

“Something desserty,” Darcy calls, flopping down at one of the tables.

“Something nonaloholic,” Carina says.

“Can I get a whiskey lemonade?” Skye asks. “Heavy on the whiskey.”

“I expect decent tips,” grumbles Hunter, shuffling away.

Trish frowns. “Did you _literally_ stab the guy?” she asks Nebula, frowning. “Like, with your keys or something? I’m not judging, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“No, with this,” says Nebula, pulling the knife out proudly. It’s still got blood on it.

“Holy shit,” Trish says faintly. “Well. All right then.” She glances around at the others. “Let’s get those of you who aren’t injured over here, and those who are opposite, save Claire some time.”

“Save me some time doing what?” Claire sighs as she walks in. “What goddamn medical emergency do you have now?”

“They got in a fight,” Trish sighs. “Nobody’s in serious danger, I don’t think, but I’m just guessing.”

“What happened?”

“We were coming back after a movie and ran into some Hydra guys and they were skeezy,” explains Skye. “So then, uh, Nebula stabbed one of them and it kind of escalated from there.”

“ _Stabbed_? Oh jesus,” groans Claire. “Please don’t tell me anyone else got stabbed.”

Linnea walks in, keys jingling. “Sorry, the parking lot is full of assholes clearing out,” she says. “What’s going on?”

“Post-stabbing,” replies Claire. “Nobody here was stabbed, thank god, but they stabbed a Nazi and beat the shit out of a bunch of others, apparently. Everyone who’s injured, line up. If anyone’s bleeding, you’re in the front.”

Bobbi practically skips to the front of the line. “I know it’s nothing fatal, but I don’t feel like bleeding on my dress,” she announces, holding out her arm (she appears to have gotten pushed onto and then dragged across the concrete, and she’s only been keeping it from staining her very white dress with purse napkins).

Claire sighs and pulls out a washcloth and some ointment, starting to clean Bobbi’s wound. “You know, I left a girl in my bed to come take care of y’all,” she grumbles. “You guys have got to work on your timing.”

“Anything I can do in the meantime?” Bobbi asks with a big fake pout. “To make it up to the both of you? Buy you a sex toy?”

Hunter loudly calls out, “I don’t need to know any of that, thanks!”

She sticks her tongue out in his general direction before adding, “Seriously, I know a thing or two about where to get the good ones.”

Jemma, over in the uninjured corner, giggles and hides her face against Skye’s shoulder.

Claire sighs. “You know what, I might take you up on that later. This might sting, sorry.”

“Had worse,” Bobbi declares brightly, though she does wince a bit.

“So how many Nazis _did_ you destroy?” Linnea asks, sounding eager.

“Oh, a few,” Kara says. “I never got a headcount.” She’s bleeding from the nose and apparently proud of herself.

“Well, good job, I guess,” says Claire, finishing up with Bobbi and turning to Kara. “Just a nosebleed? Anything else?”

“I feel like I might have done something to my wrist, but I don’t think it’s that serious,” Kara shrugs. “Hitting some of those guys is like hitting sandbags. Jarring if you come at it the wrong way.”

“They’re about as smart as sandbags, too,” Karen snarks.

Claire snorts. “Makes sense. Ice that, maybe wrap it if it’s still bugging you tomorrow, and...did they hit you in the head at all? Is there a chance of concussion?”

“They might have, but nah,” Kara says. “I know concussions. There’s not one going on.”

“Okay. Well, if that changes, or your wrist still hurts after a day or two, get an actual doctor to check you out.” Claire shakes her head. “I’m still not sure how I became responsible for doctoring a bunch of people who constantly get in fights with Nazis.”

“You live here and there’s no chance you’re gonna rat anyone out to said Nazis?” Raina says airily. She stayed out of the fight, so she’s doing just fine, but like hell she’s going home yet.

“And you have cool friends,” adds Hope, who’s a little disheveled just from dodging errant assholes but otherwise unscathed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire mutters. “Who’s next?”

“I’ve just got some scrapes,” Nebula says. “No big.”

“Nope, since you guys dragged me out of my house I’m gonna treat every goddamn one of you,” Claire says, grabbing Nebula’s arm and squirting ointment on a particularly deep scratch. Nebula glares but doesn’t try to pull away.

“Does this mean we might be looking at an uptick in violence?” Linnea asks. “I mean, I’m not surprised, it had been too long without a Nazi scare, but still.”

“Well, these ones were just being assholes,” Lorelei says. “It probably wasn’t motivated by anything other than their inherent toxic masculinity.”

“But that kind of thing can go either way,” Raina sighs. “They might drop it. They might keep pushing us harder and harder.”

“And let’s not forget the bigot puppies,” Darcy adds. “That’s not going to make anyone’s lives easier.”

“Do I want to know?” Claire asks.

“Well, so a bunch of us went to a party last weekend that was being thrown...I’m not sure if it was by _actual_ Nazis or just Nazi wannabes, but I guess some of them were Hydra recruits that defected only because Hydra kills dogs, and they wanted to start their own bigot gang? I think?” Skye shrugs. “We’re not quite sure what’s up with them yet, but they seem to skew a little younger and from the way they were talking, there might be trouble from them too.”

“I think they’re more general racist dicks,” Kara says. “I don’t think any of them have actually gone so far as to claim a label, they’re just assholes who are afraid of brown people. And queer people. And women.” She rolls her eyes. “They’re not as well organized, but they still want to start some shit. It seems like.”

“And they call themselves Watchdogs,” Carina adds. “That’s what we found out. We don’t know why, but they do.”

“Hence bigot puppies,” Darcy smirks, though there’s no real joy in it.

“Well, that’s just what we needed,” Linnea says. “More douchebags.”

“As far as I could tell, these ones haven’t figured out identifying marks yet,” Jemma chimes in. “Which is unfortunate, because - well, it means they’ll be more difficult to identify on sight. That’s the one good-bad thing about Hydra wankers, you can always tell by looking.”

Claire nods. “Great. Here’s hoping they pick something soon. This is ridiculous.”

“We could call them not-zis?” Skye says, grinning. “You know, like they’re not-Nazis? N-O-T?”

Bobbi snorts. “You’re a nerd.”

“Sorry we pulled you outta bed, Claire,” Karen calls, sounding sincere. “It’s only ‘cause you’re so good at helping.”

Claire sighs. “Well, I guess if I don’t help, y’all will just eventually get yourselves in worse trouble,” she says. “But maybe try to keep it before nine PM next time, huh?”

“Sorry,” Darcy says. “It was a late show.” She grins, clearly unable to keep this to herself any longer. “I tased a guy.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Good for you. Keep it up. Try to get away before they get any hits on you next time.”

“It’s pretty much impossible to hit Nazis without getting hit yourself, at least a little,” Bobbi points out. “It’s the price we pay for doing good shit for the world, or something.”

“Oh, I get that,” says Claire with a smirk. “Just, this is out of concern for you _and_ me.”

“We’ll go to the hospital if we get _really_ hurt,” Sharon calls.

“Alright.” Claire shrugs. “Then I guess, keep up the good work?”


	132. because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday night, and there are two dates at the Olive Garden.

“First of all, thanks for not suggesting a Mexican place,” Elena says with a laugh. “I know people mean well when they suggest it, but I like other kinds of food too, you know?”

Akela chuckles too, glancing around the Olive Garden. “I’m not sure this place is much better, and it’s a cliché too, so.” She shrugs in a self-depreciating way.

“No, it’s fine. I like the breadsticks,” teases Elena. “Anyway, it’s not like this is a date-date, so it’s not really a cliché.”

“True,” says Akela. She takes a sip of water, then coughs and asks, “So, how’s your...new hobby going?” She’s not stupid enough to say “cagefighting” in public, even though they’re not talking loud enough for anyone to really hear them.

Elena grins. “Pretty well, I think. Matt and Drax have been coaching me a little. Neither of them are very good at teaching but it’s fun, we just basically spar a lot. I’m working on it.”

“Been in any real matches yet?”

“Some of the preliminary ones, nothing big yet. I’ve only been going for about a month so I have to start on the bottom and work my way up. I haven’t quite one a match yet, but I have a nickname.” Elena juts her chin out proudly as she says, “They call me Yo-Yo, because when I get hit I just bounce back up again.”

“I like that,” Akela says. “It’s cute.”

Elena rolls her shoulders a bit, pleased. “Yeah? I worry it might sound silly, but I gotta start somewhere.”

“Yo-Yo Rodriguez sounds pretty cool,” Akela reassures her. “Like a comic book character or something.”

“I think you’re reaching a little there,” teases Elena. “But Drax came up with it, and he was so excited I kind of got on board with it too.”

“So how does that work, do you just get entered based on number of fights or what?”

“You know, I’m not really sure?” Elena shrugs. “I put my name on the list, then on match night I find out when I’m going on. Some nights I don’t go on at all, then Drax offers to pity-fight me. I don’t take him up on it though, because he goes too easy on me to make me feel better.” She rolls her eyes. “Someday I’ll be good enough to beat him. Maybe Matt too.”

“Yeah,” says Akela, nodding. “I’m sure you will.”

The waiter brings them a basket of breadsticks, and Elena grabs one immediately. “Don’t judge,” she says with a wink, “I had a long shift today.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” promises Akela with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry this is kind of silly,” Bobbi says as she and Audrey take their seats. “I’m actually horrible at dating. It’s a little-known fact.”

“Aw, I think you’re doing fine,” Audrey consoles her, smiling shyly. “It’s nice. Italian, that’s a nice standard date restaurant type.”

“It’s the Olive Garden on a Friday,” Bobbi amends, “which means it’s better than Applebee’s but it’s still crowded, loud, and a little contrived.”

“I like it,” Audrey says. “You don’t have to worry about being too fancy. Everywhere in Portland is too fancy, I swear. You want to go grab a casual dinner with friends and wind up surrounded by candlelight and fine wine.”

“You seem kind of like a candlelight and fine wine kind of girl, though,” Bobbi says.

“At the right moment, maybe,” Audrey says. “I’m also the kind of girl who just wants to wear sneakers sometimes and not get looked at strangely.”

“I can’t imagine every single restaurant is like that,” Bobbi says.

“Every restaurant that isn’t full of shrieking kids or throbbing bass,” Audrey declares. “At least that’s how it feels sometimes.”

“Luckily for you, then, we’re nice and straightforward here.” Bobbi grins. “Especially the less romantic of us. Nothing fancy, just breadsticks.”

Audrey laughs and reaches her hand across the table. “I like it,” she promises. The waiter comes and they order a bottle of wine, mostly because it seems like the thing to do, and once it’s brought she raises her glass and says, “To whatever this is, date or otherwise.”

Bobbi snorts. “Nice and vague. To whatever this is.”

They fall into silence for a minute as they study the menu, but that’s interrupted by a guy pushing his chair back so hard it squeaks and storming off, muttering obscenities as he passes them. “What the hell is that?” Audrey asks, intrigued in spite of herself.

They eavesdrop long enough to hear the guy’s date complaining to the other couple they were there with that all she did was pay for both of their meals while Mr. Sunshine was in the bathroom, and that prompts Bobbi to give a knowing nod of her head. “An affront to the male ego, then,” she says. “Classic.”

Audrey makes a face. “Do guys really get fed up about that?” she asks. “I mean, I never really tried, but I’ve only been out with a few guys.”

“A certain kind of them does, anyway,” Bobbi says. “Exhibit A, Lance Hunter. He really does have his forgivable moments, but he also has his moment of intense pride and bullshittery. It drove him insane that I’m taller than him, for example. Always blamed it on heels, even though I don’t even wear those that often.” She smirks. “Too much of a pain if I need to stop everything and kick someone’s ass.”

“I’m guessing he also can’t stand the fact that you kicked more asses than him?” Audrey supposes.

“That he had a weird relationship with,” Bobbi sighs. “He sort of resented it that I was a bigger badass than him, but he also kinda found the whole girl vigilante thing hot.” She shrugs as if to say, _which is fair._

“Makes sense, I guess.” Audrey sips her wine. “It is, by the way. Hot. Do you really think of it as vigilante stuff?”

“Sometimes,” Bobbi says. “Not enough that I could get in legal trouble, hopefully - though I guess I can count on Matt and Foggy if that ever becomes an issue, and Matt’s worse about it than I am - but there are moments where it seems like the best description. Beating up those Hydra guys last weekend? Nah, they were just harassing us and we did what we had to do. Beating up the Hydra guys to get back Kara’s dog? Yeah, that was probably closer to conscious vigilantism.”

“How daring and dangerous,” Audrey murmurs, attempting playful.

They both pause to munch on breadsticks, during which time Bobbi catches sight of another questionable man-type, this one apparently unable to shut up. His voice has been a constant drone since they sat down, and Bobbi whispers, “What do you think he can’t shut up about? My money’s on a mediocre car or _The Boondock Saints_.”

“I’m gonna guess the band he put together with some guys down the street,” Audrey says. “Kind of predictable for me, I know, a music guess, but he’s got a strong 80s cover group vibe.”

 

* * *

 

“So, any pets?” Elena asks.

“I have a bearded dragon, actually.” Akela smiles.

Elena’s eyes widen. “I wouldn’t have thought of a lizard as a pet,” she says, laughing. “I’m guessing it’s not like a dragon in a movie?”

“No, he’s more like an iguana, but smaller. Mine’s about eighteen inches, his name is Scatha.” Akela pulls out her phone and flips through her photos before showing one to Elena. “He was still growing in that picture, but you get the idea.”

“Oh! He’s on your shoulder,” says Elena, grinning. “Doesn’t that get uncomfortable?”

“You’ll notice I’ve got a sweatshirt on,” replies Akela dryly. “He’s got little claws, but if I keep them trimmed it’s not usually too bad. I don’t let him crawl around on me too much anymore, but he likes resting on my shoulder or back sometimes.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine that.” Elena shakes her head, but she’s still grinning. “We had a dog growing up, but nothing like that. You said Scatha? That’s a strange name.”

Akela almost looks a little embarrassed as she explains, “It’s one of the dragons mentioned in the appendices for _The Lord of the Rings._ I, uh, was a bit of a nerdy kid and read the books for the first time when I was twelve. But I didn’t want to be obvious and go with Smaug or one of the _Game of Thrones_ dragons.”

“No, of course not,” says Elena with a laugh. “What do you do with him? He doesn’t...fetch or anything, I’m guessing?”

“Not yet,” Akela says, “but he’s got a couple of balls, and he likes pushing them around. Sometimes I take him on walks outside, like a dog. I’ve got a little kiddie pool I let him swim around in sometimes, in nicer weather. Not quite like a dog, but you can play with him just the same.”

Elena’s nodding, although she still looks awed. “I had no idea. How does he...I mean, he doesn’t lick you like a dog or anything?”

“Not usually, but he runs up when he sees me walk by his cage and he’ll kind of nuzzle me when he’s resting on my arm or lap. It sounds weird, but I think it’s cute.”

“Could I meet him sometime?” Elena asks. “I’d like to see that for myself.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ll have to come to my place but he likes people.” Akela smiles. “Sorry if I’m boring you, it’s kind of nerdy.”

“No, no, I think it’s very interesting,” Elena reassures her. “I’d love to come visit sometime.”

Akela nods, suddenly seeming kind of shy, then she adds, “You can talk about something nerdy you like for awhile, if you want. Fair’s fair.”

“Oh, I don’t even know what to talk about,” chuckles Elena. “You know I am in art school, yes? Painting, but they make me do all kinds of other things too.” She makes a face. “I don’t like sculpting, I’m horrible at it. All my pieces come out lumpy, no matter what I do.”

Making a sympathetic face, Akela says, “Sculpting seems difficult.”

“Right now I’m working on a self-portrait project. They want us to create six self-portraits in at least three different mediums and in all different styles. I’m hoping to avoid sculpting if possible.” Elena smirks. “I like oils best, I think. Would you like to see? I’ve got a couple of pictures.”

“Please.”

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for not making this a big stupid actual Valentine’s thing,” Audrey says, flushing a little with the wine. “I don’t think I’m ready for that night at all yet.”

Bobbi smirks. In point of fact, she already has plans with Skye and Jemma, but this isn’t the time to mention it. Instead what she says is, “Don’t worry about it, I think Valentine’s Day is kind of disgusting in traditional contexts. Kinda goes against what I stand for, y’know.”

Audrey nods - Bobbi’s explained the aro thing to her by now, and while she’s still not totally sure of the details she respects it. “Makes sense,” she says. “I do appreciate you actually taking me out, though. I know you say you aren’t good at real dates, but this is nice. It shows class, or something like that.”

“Well, you’re classy,” Bobbi says, shrugging. That seems kind of obvious to her, but then she also knows Audrey comes from a history of not the best relationships. “Classier than the Olive Garden, probably.”

“You’re a giant flatterer,” Audrey laughs. “I’m really not, but it’s nice knowing that’s the vibe I put off, I guess.”

“It is,” Bobbi assures her, because that’s easier than going after the flatterer thing. That gets into a realm of emotional discussion she’s horrible at. “You seem way classier than any of us retail people, and I would know, considering that as a bridal consultant -” she pauses to smile disingenuously - “I’m one of the classier people in the mall, by default.”

“That’s nice of you,” Audrey says. “I think you’re plenty classy yourself, by the way. And not just because of your job. You… I don’t know. You handle yourself well. You aren’t a jerk. And you’re effortlessly pretty. Like… wow. You really are.”

It’s Bobbi’s turn to blush. “I try on those first two points,” she says. “Apparently I don’t have to try on the third, although I’m probably vainer than you think. It’s really not effortless.”

“Whatever,” Audrey says. “It’s nice, whatever it is. And thanks for, y’know. Continuing to take a chance on little ol’ presumed-heterosexual me.”

“Of course,” Bobbi says, and she means it. “You’re awesome, you’re gorgeous, and I’ve never let shit like that hang me up. I’m glad to help, or whatever.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow,” mutters Akela, “check out that guy.” She nods surreptitiously at a man a few tables down and over, who’s talking on his phone. His date is picking at her food, obviously unhappy. “He’s been on the phone for at least five minutes.”

Elena carefully glances behind herself to look and then grimaces. “I would just get up and leave. Answering the phone is okay, but a conversation when you’re out with someone else, and at the table? No. That just means you have no manners.”

Akela smirks. “I haven’t been out with a guy in a while, but I wouldn’t put up with that either. Guy, girl, whoever. There’s gotta be girls who do it too, but I’ve never seen it.”

“Yes, but I think men in general behave badly more often on dates,” Elena says, rolling her eyes. “Look at that over there, that guy. He keeps trying to lean over and watch the televisions in the bar. I would understand if it was football, but it’s just your silly American football.”

“Oh, I forget that’s what they call soccer everywhere else,” says Akela. “I dunno why our football is something else here. Ours doesn’t even really involve feet.”

“Exactly! It’s ridiculous. Real football is all about the feet. Also much more exciting. And they don’t let women play your football, do they? At least not professionally.”

Shrugging, Akela replies, “I don’t think so. Soccer’s fine, but I like hockey. Especially when the players get in fights, that’s the best. Sometimes they bleed and it’ll bounce off the ice.”

“Really? That sounds very entertaining.” Elena’s eyes light up. “I don’t think I’ve been to a game before. Do you go a lot?”

“I try to, but there aren’t a ton of local games. Mostly I end up watching them on TV, when they broadcast them. You could come over and watch one sometime?”

“Okay, but I want to see how you guys play football here. If I come over for a hockey game, we have to go to a football game together. Deal?”

Akela grins. “Deal. Sounds fun.”

“You are lucky that it isn’t a World Cup year,” teases Elena. “I am a fiend for those games. Colombia got up to the quarter-finals before being eliminated last time. I believe we’ll get to the finals in 2018.”

“I’m not even sure most people here know about the World Cup,” Akela says, snorting. “I don’t know a lot, but I guess it’s because we’ve got the Super Bowl and other stuff.”

“Ridiculous,” repeats Elena playfully. “I’ll make a real football fan of you yet.”

“I look forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

“More wine?” Bobbi asks, grinning.

“If you please,” Audrey replies, just about purring.

Bobbi pours, more careful than before (she’s feeling some of it go to her head, but in a pleasant way). “You’re really cute right now, by the way,” she says.

“Only right now?” Audrey asks, batting her eyelashes.

“Okay, most of the time,” Bobbi says. “Always.”

Audrey sits up a little straighter, clearly pleased with herself. “I’ve always kind of hated conditional compliments,” she says. “Like, you’re really pretty… when you wear that color. You’re really interesting… when you talk about a certain thing. Have you ever noticed how guys do that all the damn time?”

Bobbi nods. “It’s right at the top of the list of terrible ideas for compliments,” she agrees. “You’re really smart… when you agree with me.”

“Oh, oh, I know, that one’s Hunter,” Audrey exclaims.

“Alas, yes,” Bobbi sighs, though she’s smirking at the way Audrey’s made a game of this. “Or the dreaded: you’re pretty good at that… for a girl.”

“Oh, my god, I hate that one,” Audrey groans. “I used to go running with this guy who, I’d outlast him every damn time, and it was always, ‘pretty fast, for a girl.’ Or ‘pretty tough, for a girl.’” She winces. “I think he thought it was playful, instead of just shitty. I let it go on way too long.”

“I’m guessing you were doing other things than just running with him,” Bobbi says.

“I have such crummy taste in men,” Audrey says.

“Or crummy men just have a taste, y’know, for you,” Bobbi suggests. “That’s not your fault.”

“I think some guys feel like, since I’m a creative sort of person, it’s my job to give them the artistic and aesthetic and emotional fulfillment they otherwise lack,” Audrey confides. “Even the nice ones seem like that a little.”

“My turn to guess, now,” Bobbi says. “Coulson?”

“He’s perfectly nice!” Audrey says defensively, sighing. “Just… I think he wanted something I wasn’t ready to give him. Or something.”

“Judging from his relationship with Rosalind? I’m guessing the ‘or something’ part is right on the money,” Bobbi murmurs, smirking. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I just don’t really see you as that type.”

“What type?” Audrey asks.

“Pause on that,” Bobbi says. “We’ll talk about it later and… not in the Olive Garden.”

 

* * *

 

Akela and Elena are in the middle of a playful debate about which Batman actor has been the best so far (Elena is sticking with Michael Keaton, while Akela insists that Ben Affleck’s performance makes perfect sense if Affleck mostly relied on Frank Miller comics for his research) when the waiter comes to ask if they’d like the check.

“Yes, thank you,” says Elena.

“And is that together or separate?”

Elena and Akela both hesitate, glancing at each other. “I can pay for myself,” says Elena quickly. “I don’t expect you to buy my food just because you asked me out.” She laughs. “I don’t think I said that right.”

“No, I’ll get it,” says Akela. “Just one check, thanks.”  Then, once the waiter leaves, she adds, “I mean, no pressure. I just...you seemed cool and I wanted to get to know you better.”

Elena raises an eyebrow, but she seems more amused than upset. “Oh, so this _was_ asking me up on a date?”

Akela shrugs. “Doesn’t have to be if you don’t want. I think you’re cute, though. And I do want to watch a hockey game with you sometime. And a soccer game.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want,” teases Elena. “I think you’re pretty cute yourself. And I enjoyed this. I think we should definitely do it again sometime.”

“Cool,” says Akela, smiling.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t even think about paying,” Bobbi says when they get the check. “This was my silly idea, I pony up for it.” She pauses. “I also never say pony up ever again.”

“Fine,” Audrey shrugs, holding her hands up. “But I get the next one.”

“Ah, good,” Bobbi chuckles. “I haven’t frightened you away yet.”

“You’re the opposite of frightening,” Audrey promises. “Wanna come back to my place? We could do a movie or something.”

Bobbi tilts her head, trying to figure out if ‘movie’ is euphemistic. “That sounds nice,” she says, careful to keep any innuendo out of her voice.

“You know what else sounds nice?” Audrey asks. “Falling asleep snuggling on my couch. If you’re up for that.”

“I’m up for that.”


	133. this is a beautiful start to a lifelong love letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Angie are getting married, and it's very nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kids referred to are from _Runaways_ and _Young Avengers_. They’ll probably pop up in the teachers story eventually.

“This is so exciting!” Molly says, fidgeting in her seat. “I can’t believe Ms. Martinelli is finally getting married!”

Alex smiles at her. “You’re gonna need to sit still once it starts, Mol.”

“I know that! I’m not a little kid.” Molly sticks out her tongue at him.

“Don’t tease her too much,” says Karolina. “It _is_ exciting!”

Gert is glancing around, wearing a slightly less bored expression than usual. “You think they’ll let us into the booze at all?”

“No,” sighs Chase. “Didn’t you guys see they were hand-stamping all the adults? We’re stuck with the boring kid drinks.”

“Punch isn’t boring!” chirps Molly. “Anyway, I had a sip of my dad’s beer once and it tasted like pee.”

Xavin snorts. “I’ve had wine when my parents took me to state dinners. It is nothing to get excited about.”

“Seriously,” chimes in Nico. “It’s whatever. Whiskey, now _that’s_ good sh- er, stuff,” she adds, glancing at Molly.

“Nothing like trying to prove that you’re mature enough to drink alcohol than listing off all the drinks you’ve had,” quips Victor, rolling his eyes.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Karolina says, “I’m glad Ms. Martinelli and Ms. Carter are so happy. It’s just...really nice to see.” She squeezes Xavin’s hand and smiles at her a little shyly. Xavin squeezes back.

Chase nods. “Yeah, especially after Ms. Frye pulled that bullshit with their rings. That was so stupid. I don’t get why people still care about stuff like that.”

“Queer people have cooties,” Gert snarks. “Or something.”

 

* * *

 

“Up, down, somewhere in between?” Sharon asks. “Do you know what Angie’s doing?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, but I expect there’s going to be a tiara somewhere,” Peggy smirks. “Somewhere in between will do nicely.”

“I could go spy on her and find out!” Dottie says brightly.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Don’t do that. Spying isn’t part of maid-of-honor duties.”

“The whole point is that they’re not supposed to see each other,” Steve says. “Someone else looking on one of their behalves is cheating.” He, unsurprisingly, seems to be taking this more seriously than any of the others.

Sharon shakes her head and starts working on curling Peggy’s hair. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but we can just play it by ear,” she says.

Dottie pouts. “Well you wouldn’t let me put any weapons under my dress, I’m getting bored.”

“I shudder to think what you’d use them for,” Peggy drawls.

“I dunno. It’s just in case.” Dottie shrugs. “Sharon said no, not even in my-”

“It’s a horrible idea,” Sharon insists. “I don’t want to see what’d happen if that ‘in case’ happened. This place wasn’t cheap, and the clean-up wouldn’t be either.”

“Fine, fine.” Rolling her eyes, Dottie adds sweetly, “You look real pretty, Peggy.”

“Thank you,” Peggy says, if warily. “I should hope so, given the amount of effort.”

 

* * *

 

“Bobby pin?” Bucky asks, holding out his hand.

Sam passes him one, smiling. “Coming along nicely. I think. You’d know better than me, but y’know.”

“This is charming,” Ana says, sipping her pre-wedding champagne.

Angie grins, drumming her fingers excitedly on her leg. “I can’t believe it’s so soon! I used to kind of think about my wedding when I was little, but now that it’s here it almost doesn’t feel real. In a good way, I mean.”

“You did speed through your engagement,” Ana points out. “Which isn’t bad at all! But it might account for the suddenness.”

Giggling, Angie says, “Yeah, but it was after being together for like ten years so I feel like that’s a little different? I dunno.”

Bucky laughs. “I get that. Whenever Steve gets around to asking me to marry him it’s kinda gonna be like, what, really? We’re not already hitched?”

“You’re assuming _I_ won’t ask you first,” teases Sam.

“So get to it,” Bucky says, nudging him playfully. “I won’t wait forever, y’know.”

“Oh, boys,” Ana sighs, laughing.

 

* * *

 

Jarvis is waiting at the altar while last minute preparations are being made, and he checks one more time to make sure he has the papers in the proper order. Then he glances around the room, smiling. The guests appear to have all filed in and are talking quietly amongst themselves. Peggy and Angie invited basically everyone from work (including Miriam, who declined to attend, and Phillips and Dooley, who also declined but who sent gifts, according to Angie) and Steve’s group, along with Tony (who mildly abused his surrogate nephew privileges to bring two plus-ones) and, at his and Ana’s request, their ragtag group of Jewish friends. Sharon’s parents had been unable to come, away on business that couldn’t be rescheduled, but Peggy’s brother Michael and Angie’s brother Frankie are walking them down the aisle.

Some of their students have also shown up, escorted by their parents, and they mostly (except for Xavin) seem fidgety and uncomfortable in their fancy wedding clothes. He catches the eye of David Alleyne, who is secretly one of his favorite students, and gives him a small but fond nod in greeting.

A minute later the music starts up (not, he’s glad to note, the traditional Wedding March), and the guests fall silent as the wedding party starts up the aisle.

 

* * *

 

The music continues not to be cliche or terrible as the reception begins and everyone filters into the ballroom where tables and chairs and decorations, mostly purple and silver when possible, are set up. Of course, the guests all arrive first, before the wedding party, and this means everyone is milling around aimlessly until the grand entrances.

“Can we dance yet?” Pietro asks. He wiggles his leg impatiently.

“Unfortunately no,” sighs Wanda. “We have to wait for them to come in and then there’ll be food and then they’ll dance and then we can. I think. I’ve been to as many weddings as you have, you know.”

Pietro grins. “The last wedding we were at was when we were ten.”

“Exactly! I don’t remember it well.” Wanda chuckles.

“I thought it was nice, though,” Hope offers. “Not too… denominational. Actually pretty sweet.”

“Yes,” says Wanda. “Sort of tame, unless you count Angie’s dress. That was very sparkly.”

“It suited her, I think,” Hope says. “I mean, I don’t know her very well, but she seemed really happy and pretty in it.”

“Yeah,” chimes in Peter. “I’m glad they’re happy. I can’t wait for the dancing though!”

“You have two left feet,” teases Gwen, “and so do I.”

“Yeah, but who cares? It’s fun!”

“I don’t think that skill matters at weddings,” Darcy points out. “See also, every viral wedding video. Even the good dancers don’t seem like good dancers after a while.”

“See?” Peter sticks out his tongue at his girlfriend.

Overhearing the slightly younger crowd at the next table over, Vanessa turns to _her_ girlfriend and murmurs, “You’ll be a good sport about dancing, won’t you?”

“Oh of course!” Elektra says. “I like dancing. And,” she adds, dropping her voice a bit, “I know some moves I think you’ll like.”

Vanessa makes a show of watching for everyone else at their table’s reactions as she replies, “I’m sure of it. I do like so many of them.”

Pepper and Rhodey roll their eyes, Tony raises his eyebrow as if he wants to hear more, Thor is completely oblivious, and Jane makes a show of _not_ reacting that’s as good a reaction as any, followed by her declaring, “This whole thing must have seemed inevitable to you, Tony.”

Blinking, Tony takes a minute before responding, “Uh...yeah! I mean, I’ve known Peggy my whole life basically and she’s been with Angie forever, so y’know, I figured they’d tie the knot sooner or later. Mostly I hoped they’d do it after I was too old to be forced to be in the wedding,” he quips.

“When you weren’t too old to be forced to be in the wedding, Peggy was still married to her husband, wasn’t she?” Pepper asks.

Tony shrugs. “I mean, yeah, but if he hadn’t died she probably would’ve found some way to be married to both of them.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s not legal,” Vanessa says, smirking.

“You don’t know Peg like I do,” Tony replies. “If she wants something, she doesn’t quit.” He takes a long drink of his beer, as if to punctuate that.

“Mm, that’s admirable of her,” Vanessa says. “I’m sure that’s a very useful skill.” She raises her eyebrow to suggest she means it just as suggestively as it sounds.

“And weren’t their dresses nice?” Jane hurries to ask. “They were so, um, they were complementary but both very different.”

Thor chuckles warmly. “Jane has been reading a lot about wedding dresses lately,” he says to the rest of the table. “She attempts to explain what she’s learned to me sometimes, but I find I don’t really understand much better than she does.”

Tony grumbles to himself and takes another long drink.

“I’ve always found it so unfortunate that most women feel their only chance to indulge in a gown is their wedding,” Vanessa says. “They’re not terribly practical, but they’re fun, if you like that sort of thing.” Given how overdressed she is for this event, she clearly likes that sort of thing.

Elektra nods. She’s opted for a more slinky, sleek dress, but she’s definitely worn her fair share of gowns. “I think every woman should have at least a gown or two for special occasions, if they want them.”

“I’m in no position to argue, given where I work,” Pepper drawls.

Peggy and Angie walk into the room a minute later, hand in hand, to a round of applause. Angie waves with her other hand and calls, “Thank you, thank you everybody! And thank you for coming! We really appreciate it!”

“The food will be served presently,” Peggy adds, “and the bar is already open, so make yourselves comfortable!”

Howard ambles over, grinning and holding a drink (not his first). “Pegs!” he says, offering his other hand. “Congrats! Real great shindig you have here.”

“All you’ve had the opportunity to do so far is sit, stand, and drink,” Peggy deadpans. “I don’t know that it’s quite gotten to _great_ yet.” She glances over at Angie and smiles, rather privately. “For the guests, anyway.”

“No, no!” says Howard, with a lazy smile. “I like watching the two of you be happy. It’s making me think true love does exist after all. Well, not for me, except if you count alcohol, but.” He takes a drink and adds, “Anyway, _mazel tov_!”

Daniel and Violet come up after him, both looking like they’re at least partially here to do damage control. “Then why doesn’t that tattoo of yours just say _Smirnoff_?” Violet asks, smirking.

Howard blinks, like maybe he wasn’t expecting her to say that. “I made that mistake once,” he says breezily. “Not again.”

“What?” Angie says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What tattoo?”

“Later, Peggy,” says Howard, walking away very quickly.

“He has a tattoo with his ex-wife’s name on it,” Violet explains, shrugging. “He once showed it to me under the guise of needing medical advice. It’s on his thigh, so it was a pretty thin guise.”

Angie snorts. “Well, he’s probably done more ridiculous things to get girls to look at it.”

“He does love to get pity-attention,” Peggy sighs. “I’m putting the both of you on Howard-wrangling duty. If he gets too… like himself toward any guests, haul him out.”

“Can do,” Daniel says, saluting playfully.

Molly Hernandez comes bounding over to hug Angie and then Peggy. “Congratulations!” she shrieks. “You both look so pretty!”

“Aw, thanks, kiddo,” Angie says, patting her on the head. “Glad you could make it. I hope the main event wasn’t too boring.”

“No, it was great! You two are so cute!”

“Yeah, we’re all happy for you,” Gert says, who’s leading the rest of her small group of friends over. “But, uh, don’t expect hugs from the rest of us.”

Chase offers a fist. “Fistbump?”

Peggy smirks. “If you like,” she says, awkwardly but genuinely offering her fist.

Chase grins and bumps it with his. “My folks couldn’t make it but they say congrats too,” he says, not sounding all that sad about his parents skipping.

Angie’s mouth twitches - she’s _very_ familiar with Chase’s parents, and is glad they didn’t show - but then she goes back to her regular grin. “You guys all look so nice!” she says to the group.

Victor looks bashful. “Thanks. Mom wasn’t sure if this suit would still fit me, but I guess it did.”

“Thank you for not wearing all-black,” Peggy says wryly to Nico.

Nico shrugs. “I went with the second-best option,” she says, gesturing to her deep purple dress. “I don’t really get why we can’t wear black dresses but they can wear black tuxes though.” She waves her hand at Chase, Alex, and Victor.

“Honestly?” Peggy says. “It’s mostly just a daft tradition. Or possibly the fact that men wearing tuxes that are anything _other_ than black is still unfortunately rare.”

“Yeah, I kinda wish people had been a little more creative,” Angie says with a shrug. “Oh well. Anyway. You guys should go help yourselves to the food! They’re just setting it out.”

Chase perks up. “Bye, Ms. Martinelli! Bye, Ms. Carter! Um, congratulations!” Then he books it for the food line, Molly hot on his heels (after waving goodbye too).

Karolina rolls her eyes fondly. “We definitely had snacks before we came here.”

 

* * *

 

Once everyone is settled with their food and beverages, Howard clinks his glass for a toast. “Attention, attention!” he calls.

“Oh, _this_ oughta be good,” Angie whispers to Peggy.

“Thank goodness we didn’t try to limit it to the traditional toast-givers,” Peggy says. “He’d have still tried, but it would have been much more awkward.”

“I’ve known Peggy and Angie for many years,” Howard is saying, “and we’ve had some real good times together. Pegs was the unofficial godmother to my son Tony, and she was sometimes better at that whole parenting thing than I was.” He laughs, and it’s very awkward. (Tony downs the entire rest of his drink.) “Well, anyway, Angie’s a real fine gal too. They’re both really lucky to have each other, and I couldn’t have imagined a better outcome for either of them. I wish them the best. To Peggy and Angie!”

Somewhat because of his earlier promise, even though this doesn’t quite apply, Daniel stands and holds his own glass aloft. “I’ll keep it short,” he says cheerfully, “but these two are an inspiration, and it’s so satisfying to see everything work out for them how it’s supposed to. I could tell you an embarrassing story or two about how they behaved when they were getting started, but I’m supposed to keep things civil around here.” He chuckles. “To Peggy and Angie.”

Jason’s next, and he’s also pretty brief. “I just met them recently, but they’ve been so kind and welcoming to me since I’m new in the area, and I’m flattered that they wanted me to write them a toast. They’re one of the healthiest couples I’ve ever met, and I think they’re going to be just fine. Best of luck to the two of you.”

Sharon is the last one to stand up, from just a few seats down at the bridal party’s table. “It might sound like an exaggeration to say that Peggy and Angie kind of taught me what love should look like, but it’s true. They’re there for each other through thick and thin, they stand up for their relationship even when it would be easier to back down.” She pauses. Everyone in the room knows what she’s talking about. “They’re just as head-over-heels now as they were when they first got together, and it’s beautiful. I’ve been lucky enough to watch them falling in love and I’ve been even luckier to be a part of their lives. Cheers, you two. You’re going to be amazing.”

In spite of herself, Peggy wipes away a stray tear as she nods to her niece, and Angie, seeing her wife’s getting emotional, says quickly, “Thanks, all! We’re gonna get the dancing started soon, so enjoy the food and talk amongst yourselves!”

 

* * *

 

“Oops!” says Teddy, quickly hopping off Angie’s foot. “Sorry!”

Angie snickers. “Teddy, it’s really okay. You don’t have to apologize every time.”

Teddy blushes. “I know, but I feel bad and stuff. Billy and I were practicing and I thought I was getting good at dancing!”

“You’re doing okay,” calls Billy from where he’s dancing with Kate. “It’s better than when you stepped on my feet every other time we moved.”

“It’s really fine, Teddy,” Angie says, grinning. “And I appreciate the dance.”

Meanwhile, Steve, Sharon, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky are all trying to dance with each other - at the same time. To varying effect. “You guys sure you don’t want to just pick partners and then switch off?” asks Bucky, knowing it’s a lost cause.

“Then someone would have to sit out,” Steve says. “This is more inclusive.”

Sharon snickers. “And more scandalous.”

“I mean, it’s not exactly unexpected,” says Natasha with a smirk. “Us five.”

“Well, I wanna take Buck out for a spin just the two of us later,” Sam says. “He seems to think I wouldn’t propose to him before Steve got there.”

“Wow, way to upstage an event,” teases Bucky. “Also, where you hiding a ring in that suit?”

Sam grins and shrugs. “Wait and see.”

“Besides,” Steve says, “didn’t I already sort of propose?”

“I gotta keep you on your toes,” Sam replies.

“Hey Steve,” interrupts Natasha mischievously, “where’s your cape? I thought you were gonna wear it.”

“His cape is bedsheets,” Sharon points out. “The line had to be drawn.”

Thompson’s ambling around, trying to see if there’s anyone he can badger into dancing with him (well, there’s gotta be _some_ cute single girls here), when he notices a pair of women (one very overdressed, one wearing a dress that’s just this side of risque) who are dancing a little too closely for it to be quite decent. “Huh,” he says to himself, watching for a minute. Yeah, they are _definitely_ not doing anything wedding-appropriate. Even though he shouldn’t be watching, he does for a bit longer before moving on.

After several unsuccessful minutes, he comes across Dottie, who is sitting at a table sipping wine and looking bored. “Hey,” he says, trying for a smile. “How about you and me take a spin around the dance floor?”

Dottie shrugs. “We could. If I wanted to embarrass myself, which I don’t really feel like doing today.”

“Aw, hey, c’mon, don’t be like that. It’s our friend’s wedding, we should be, y’know, celebrating.”

“She’s _my_ friend. I don’t think she’s yours, unless maybe she’s had a major brain transplant in the last twenty four hours.” Dottie rolls her eyes and makes a dismissive motion with her hand. “Go on, shoo.”

Thompson is about to argue with her, but she turns around in her chair so her back is facing him, so he gives up and keeps walking. He passes the table where Ana and Jarvis are sitting, and he could swear he hears Jarvis say “oh...bother” not unlike Winnie the Pooh.

Finally he sees Whitney Frost, who’s looking a bit lost herself. “Hey there,” he says. “Are you partnerless too?”

“Aren’t these stamps atrocious?” she asks instead of answering. She clearly has something on her mind. “This orange clashes with everything.”

“Stamps?”

“The hand stamps,” Whitney says. “For alcohol. All the adults have them.”

“Oh, right. I guess? I hadn’t noticed.” He shrugs.

“Orange is the most unflattering color,” she sighs.

“Well...I think it flatters you fine?” It’s a bit of a longshot, but why not? She’s pretty, if a bit terrifying.

Whitney’s eyebrow goes up. “Fine isn’t great, but it’s something,” she says, in a voice like she finds this seriously emotionally taxing.

He grins. “Listen, I was thinking of heading out pretty soon, you wanna come with?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Peggy's dress](http://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_truly-zac-posen-satin-corseted-wedding-dress-zp341564), [Angie's dress](http://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_truly-zac-posen-tulle-wedding-dress-with-draping-zp341400_all-wedding-dresses).


	134. it's comforting how some things never change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen and Kara have a slightly belated Valentine's Day dinner party for their friends.

“Who is it?” Kara calls in answer to the doorbell ringing.

“I’m Batman!” says a low, growly voice.

Kara and Karen exchange glances, trying not to laugh, and Karen calls, “Come in!”

Foggy opens the door, grinning, Matt behind him. “I could have been Batman,” says Foggy.

“I’m pretty sure Batman wouldn’t actually announce his presence like that in this sorta situation,” Karen points out, chuckling.

“He does sometimes, but it’s a whole speech,” explains Foggy. “It’s like, I am vengeance! I am the night! I am Batman! But you’re probably right.”

Autumn comes over to greet them, tail wagging, and Matt laughs when she licks his hand. “Hey there. Not much for you, sorry.”

“Aw, she’s just being friendly,” Kara says. “She’s realized that Karen and I aren’t giving her any treats yet, so she’s moving on.”

“Well, _I_ have something for her,” Foggy says, pulling a bunny-shaped squeaky toy out of his pocket and throwing it. Autumn lopes after it, thrilled, and starts squeaking it happily.

“It’s such a good thing she sleeps when I sleep,” Kara says, shaking her head with a fond smile. “Otherwise that would be keeping me up all damn night. It’s really cute, though. Thanks, Fog.”

“Oops,” says Foggy, not sounding all that sorry. “Anyway, do you guys need any help with anything?”

“We’re doing okay,” Kara says, shrugging. “Just sit down, we’ll be ready soon.”

“If you’re sure,” Matt says. He and Foggy go to sit on the couch, and Matt calls, “The sauce smells good, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Kara replies. “You guys doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re fine,” Matt says. Autumn jumps up next to them and puts her head in Foggy’s lap, demanding ear scritches.

“You guys are so cute and domestic,” teases Foggy.

Karen grins and tosses hair over her shoulder. “We can manage it if we try,” she says.

“Who else is coming, anyway?” Matt asks. “I mean I figured Elektra and Vanessa.”

“Yeah,” Kara says. “And, uh, Claire and Candace.”

“Oh! I haven’t seen Claire in awhile,” Matt says. “How long have she and Candace been dating? She mentioned her but I don’t know a lot.”

“Not… that long?” Karen says. “I’m honestly not sure either. I think she’s been keeping it kind of chill.”

Foggy nods. “Makes sense. But hey, it’ll be nice to catch up with her and stuff. Matt’s been giving her space.” He smirks. “Honestly, he was treating their not-breakup kind of like a breakup.”

“Hey, I was just making sure she didn’t feel like I was forcing anything,” protests Matt, laughing. “You act like that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not, you’re just so damn intense about everything that it’s hard to tell when you’re being serious,” teases Foggy.

“If he wasn’t intense, he wouldn’t be Matt,” Karen points out.

“Wow, you guys,” Matt says dryly. “Really feeling the love here.”

“I mean it fondly,” Karen promises.

Then there’s another knock, which turns out to be Claire and Candace. “Hey,” Claire calls as they enter. “How’s it going?”

“Good!” Kara says. “We were just talking about you, kinda.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Candace chuckles.

“Yeah, we were just saying we hadn’t seen you in awhile,” Matt says, sidestepping the actual topic. “How’ve you been?”

“Not bad. Work’s been, y’know, same as usual. I got another bunch of vigilante idiots calling on me awhile back.” Claire shrugs. “Been relieved not to hear from you, Matt, to be honest. No offense.”

“None taken,” says Matt good-naturedly. “I figured you could use the break.”

Autumn comes over to investigate the new people and Candace grins. “Hey, there,” she murmurs. “Cutie.”

“Autumn, right?” Claire asks, scratching the dog’s back.

“The famous Autumn,” Kara agrees, laughing nervously. “If you want her to leave you alone, you can just tell her no.”

“And why would we want that when she’s so cute?” Candace coos.

Kara shrugs. “Some people… just do, sometimes? I just wanted to make sure you knew the options.”

“Well, thanks,” Candace says. “But I seriously don’t see it being a problem.”

“You guys want help with anything?” asks Claire.

Karen shakes her head, grinning. “We’re fine. Almost ready, I promise.”

“Come join us!” calls Foggy. “We don’t bite. Much.”

“You don’t bite at all,” Claire says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. She goes over to join them on the couch, Candace following.

“It’s a nice place you have here,” Candace says to Kara.

“Thank you,” Kara replies. “I… I try.”

“You succeed,” Karen murmurs, bumping Kara’s hip fondly.

“Candace, right?” Matt asks. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Matt.”

“We haven’t,” Candace agrees. “I would, in fact, be Candace.” She chuckles, not sure how awkward this is supposed to be.

“And I’m Foggy,” says Foggy, grinning at her. “Claire probably told you terrible things.”

“Claire’s told me plenty of things and left me to draw my own conclusions,” Candace replies, sounding a little smug.

Foggy’s eyes widen comically. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. Anyway, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Candace says. “I was beginning to think I’d never get to.”

Claire snorts. “It wasn’t really on purpose. We’re just all busy.”

“Sure,” Candace teases, nudging her.

“So where did you guys meet?” Foggy asks. “You’re not one of her unexpected drop-ins, are you?”

Candace shakes her head, laughing. “We live in the same building,” she says. “Nothing fancy or dramatic about it.”

“Yes, I can in fact find dates who _don’t_ drag themselves to my doorstep covered in bruises,” teases Claire. “How’re the two of you? Law school not killed you yet, I see.”

“Not yet,” says Matt, shrugging. “Still trying, I think.”

Foggy nods. “I haven’t read anything that isn’t class-related in a month. I’m starting to forget how to read for fun!”

“It says something good about you that you knew in the first place, at least,” Kara remarks.

“I mean, I didn’t even read that much, but still,” says Foggy.

Matt snickers and adds, “Yeah, when he says ‘for fun’ he mostly means _Star Wars_ books.”

“Some of them are good!” Foggy retorts, sticking his tongue out.

“Hey, it’s something,” Kara laughs.

Elektra and Vanessa are the last to arrive, both vaguely disheveled in ways no one else wants to comment on. “Sorry,” says Elektra, smirking. “We were...tied up with something.”

Karen rolls her eyes good-naturedly as Kara says, trying not to laugh, “Happens to the best of us. Come in, get comfy.”

“Hello, Matthew, Franklin,” purrs Elektra. “Claire and Candace. How are you all?”

Foggy looks like someone gave him a whole lemon, while Matt nonchalantly says, “Fine, thanks.”

“Well, I’m doing even better now that I heard that,” Candace declares.

“You see why he goes by Foggy,” quips Claire. “Hey, you two. Nice to see you again.”

Vanessa, meanwhile, is dramatically hanging her coat, watching all of this like it’s just so droll, and to her hostesses she says, “If I brought dessert, where should it go?”

“Kitchen,” Karen replies. “Let me get it from you.”

Elektra waits until Vanessa has done that and sat down in a chair that is definitely meant for one person, before casually settling onto Vanessa’s lap. Autumn trots over, tail wagging. Elektra murmurs a greeting in Greek and leans forward to scratch her ears.

“My, what a creature,” Vanessa says, not distastefully but mostly just not sure what to do.

“That’s Autumn,” Foggy explains. “She’s Kara’s dog. She mostly just likes attention but if you tell her ‘no’ she’ll go find something else to do. Or I can call her over if you want?” He grabs the squeaky toy off the floor.

“She’s fine,” Vanessa says. She doesn’t seem convinced.

“Have you not had dogs before?” Kara asks, genuinely curious.

And it’s such a sweet, innocent question that Vanessa tries her very best not to start laughing. “Never been in the right place to,” she manages.

Claire smirks. “Well, Autumn’s sweet. I’m not a huge animal person, but she’s about as good as it gets.”

“I forgot to mention her to you,” says Elektra, looking chagrined (which is a strange sight for everyone else).

“It’s fine,” Vanessa promises, petting Elektra’s shoulder with a gleam in her eye. “I’m just not accustomed to traditional pets.”

“Do you have a snake or something?” Candace asks, blinking.

Vanessa shakes her head, smirking, and Elektra says, also looking smug, “Her family raised, ah, horses.”

“Close enough,” Vanessa murmurs.

Foggy pokes Matt and whispers in his ear, “I know these are sex references but I can’t tell what they mean and it’s weird.”

Matt snorts. “It’s fine. Just ignore them.”

“But they’re gonna do it _all night!_ ”

Deliberately ignoring the accidental innuendo, Matt just says, “You know Elektra, she does it for a reaction.”

Determined to get the conversation off of sex in any way possible, Foggy chirps, “I have gerbils!”

“Do you,” Vanessa says, smirking.

“They’re called Skullcrusher and Carnage since they’re so small,” Matt adds. “It’s, y’know, ironic.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Franklin,” Elektra says wryly.

Foggy’s eyes go wide and he abruptly says, “So, Candace, you work at Starbucks, right? How is that going? You must know a lot about coffee!”

“I know enough, anyway,” Candace says.

Claire raises an eyebrow. “You’re asking a lot of weird questions, Foggy,” she says.

Foggy shrugs. “I’m just trying to get to know people, y’know.”

“For what it’s worth,” Candace says, “the coffee is really only a minimal part of the experience for the people working there.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks. He can tell Foggy’s running out of topics, so they might as well stick with this one.

“I mean, it’s the same as most workplaces, probably,” Candace shrugs. “Coworker drama. Stuff that seems bigger than it really is when you’re around it constantly.”

“Tell them about your manager’s maybe sugar-mama,” coaxes Claire, grinning. “Don’t worry, they’re good at keeping secrets.”

Candace chuckles. “Well, my manager Shades claims he’s dating the mayor of the next town over,” she says. “Who conveniently hates having her picture taken and refuses to approach his place of business.”

“Huh,” Matt says. “That’s...slightly suspicious.”

“So _that’s_ who she’s seeing,” Vanessa murmurs.

“Who who’s seeing?” Karen asks, sounding confused, but Vanessa just shrugs.

“Anyway, he’s always going on about it, bragging and everything,” Candace says. “But the boy is seriously lacking receipts, so it’s more of a joke than anything else.”

Foggy snickers. “Yeah, that’s pretty funny. You’re sure he’s not just making it all up?”

“Nope,” Candace declares. “But it’s a hell of a ruse if he is.”

They all chuckle about that, and then Claire says, “Oh my god, I had the craziest thing happen last week. Guy came into the clinic acting completely smashed, blood alcohol levels ridiculous, but he insisted he hadn’t had a drop.”

“Alcohol cupcakes?” Karen suggests, grinning in a way that shows she knows it’s a silly guess.

“Nope. And his roommate said they’d both been in their room studying all day, and he knew for a fact the guy hadn’t had any booze. So we couldn’t figure out what was going on, we thought somebody had to be lying, so we sent him out. Then he came back the next day, same story. Helen and I didn’t know what the hell to do, so we kept him under observation for twelve hours, and he didn’t have a single drink of alcohol. We gave him food and water and stuff, you know, PBJ and whatever, but nothing else. About an hour after he had that sandwich he was acting like he’d just downed a six-pack.”

“How?” Kara asks.

“Well, we had to send him to a real hospital and it turns out the guy had a rare gut bacteria that caused it to ferment carbohydrates and sugar in his gut. It’s called auto-brewery syndrome. Basically, if he eats bread or fruit or whatever, he gets drunk.”

“Holy shit,” Foggy says. “That kind of sounds awesome.”

Claire shrugs. “Can be. He seemed pretty disoriented most of the time, though, and when I looked into it I guess it can be debilitating. But at least they figured it out.”

Karen clears her throat, somewhere between amused and apologetic. “And on that appetizing note, dinner is ready!” she announces.

“Are we all sure we don’t have that?” Matt jokes.

“Trust me, you’d know,” Claire says with a fond snort.

“Seriously,” Kara says. “Food’s ready. Come over to the table.” She nods and gestures in the appropriate direction showily, smirking.

They all make their way over there, Matt leaning on Foggy, and sit down. “So it’s not a huge table, but we can all fit if we try,” Karen declares.

“I could sit on Vanessa’s lap again,” Elektra offers, grinning.

“There are enough chairs,” Kara says, shaking her head. “That won’t be necessary.” Elektra nods, only pouting a little, and sits down next to Vanessa instead.

“So there’s salad, garlic bread, pasta,” Karen explains, even though all of those are out on the table and it’s pretty self-explanatory. “And wine, if anyone wants any.”

“Wine sounds nice,” Claire says, and Candace nods.

“Some for me, too,” chimes in Elektra.

“Here we go, then,” Kara murmurs, starting to pour.

Foggy serves himself and then proceeds to eat a piece of garlic bread. “Oh man,” he says, “this is really good.”

“Good!” Kara grins. “It’s just garlic bread out of a box, so.”

“Well, it’s really good,” he insists.

Kara and Karen grin at each other, clearly pleased, as everyone begins to eat, and after a minute Candace pauses to ask, “So Vanessa, what do you… do? I’ve missed it somehow.”

“I sell everyday people their everyday art so they can pretend they’re fancier than they are,” Vanessa says with a smirk. There’s clearly more to it even than that, but she doesn’t appear to be inclined to explain.

Foggy leans over to Matt. “You don’t believe that’s all she does for a second, right?”

“Nope,” murmurs Matt. “But she doesn’t seem inclined to share, either.”

“Maybe she’s a vampire,” muses Foggy, and Matt snorts fondly.

Vanessa, for her part, sees this exchange and says nothing, just looks at Elektra to silently convey her amusement. Elektra notices, of course, and smirks back before saying, “You two seem to be awfully close over there.”

“What?” Foggy asks, looking up guiltily. “I was, um, sharing a joke I remembered from earlier, that’s all.”

“Oh, a joke!” Vanessa says, fully aware that wasn’t what was going on. “Do share with the rest of us, won’t you?”

“Uh,” says Foggy, scrambling, “well, we have this really scary professor named Jeri, and I was telling Matt I came up with a pretty good nickname for her, Jeri-cuda.”

Matt snorts. “It’s apt, I’d say.”

“That’s funny,” says Elektra. “You have a way with words, Franklin.”

“Thanks?” says Foggy, not quite sure how to take that.

“A useful skill for a lawyer, I think,” Vanessa murmurs.

Foggy nods, sort of making a face like he’s pondering that, and then Claire says, amused, “You guys seem pretty close. Should I be reading into anything that you came together to this vaguely Valentine’s dinner?”

Foggy looks startled, and Matt says, “No, it just made sense to come together.”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t really have a ton of other friends,” says Foggy, laughing nervously. “I mean, uh, I do, I totally do! I’m just stuck with this loser hanging around all the time.”

Karen snorts. “Wow, nice to know what you really think.”

“Well, you and Kara are different,” Foggy says, while Matt snickers.

“How’s that?” Kara asks, giggling.

“Because...uh...because I’m not around you guys all the time, at school?” Foggy shrugs helplessly.

“You should probably stop trying to dig yourself out of this hole,” teases Matt.

“So,” Elektra says, taking pity on him, “St. Patrick’s is coming up, Matthew. I know you’re excited about that.”

“I am really indifferent towards it,” says Matt dryly. “Not all Irish Catholics care that much about it.”

“We’ll probably just go to Josie’s, unless we’re swamped with homework,” adds Foggy. “She’s got decent specials.”

“Also, pinching,” Matt adds. “ _Really_ not a fan of that. Especially since I don’t know what color I’m wearing anyway.”

Elektra chuckles. “I couldn’t resist.” Then she turns to Kara and Karen. “You two are adorable, by the way. Lovely hosts. How are you doing?”

Kara blushes and Karen says, “We’re good. Things are good.” Neither of them want to say much more than that, clearly.

“Glad to hear it,” hums Elektra.

They finish dinner, making idle small talk, and Vanessa says, “My cheesecake?”

Karen nods and hops up to retrieve it, beaming. “It looks very fancy,” she says.

“I can’t take credit for baking it,” Vanessa demurs, “but thank you.”

“I feel like maybe we shouldn’t eat it,” Foggy mutters to Matt. “It might be weird vampire food.”

Matt snorts. “Look, even if she’s a vampire, you should still be polite and eat some of it. Don’t piss off vampires.” Foggy considers this, nods, then takes a (very small) slice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by ['cause you'll always be a beauty living in my mind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/22355807). Auto-brewery is a real thing! It's fascinating, but it's a medical condition, not a joke.


	135. just say you're sorry, no more no less, words you won't use, you don't feel them like I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye, Jemma, and Fitz meet someone new in Candy Tyme, and Fitz accidentally makes an arse of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: gender essentialist/biology essentialist talk, possibly some mild transphobia, somebody being shitty about non-binary folk. 
> 
> We're both cis, so please please please tell us if we fucked up horribly in some way. Our understanding of genderqueer/non-binary identities has mostly come from wikis, some twitter discussions and a couple of youtubers, so it's definitely not complete.

“Hey,” Skye says to Fitz when he wanders into the break room, “I want candy. Come with me?”

“Do I have to?” Fitz asks doubtfully.

“No, but there’s candy. C’mon, it’ll take like five minutes. I just texted Jemma to meet us there.” Skye stands up and walks out, and Fitz shrugs and follows her since he’s got nothing better to do.

In Candy Tyme, someone they don’t recognize with long brown hair and stylish shoes comes up, smiling at them and asking, “Hello, I’m Aida. Can I help you?”

“Hey there,” says Skye, smiling. “You’re new here, right? I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m Skye and this is Fitz, we’re from the Apple Store.”

Aida’s smile widens. “That makes us neighbors, then! It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, totally. Anyway, I don’t really need help, I’m just here to get my jelly bean fix. I’ll be sure to mention to your manager that you’re super engaged and helpful though.” Skye winks. “I know it helps.”

“I appreciate it,” Aida says, laughing as if they’re sharing a little secret. “If you do have any questions, please come let me know.”

“Will do!” As Skye wanders off toward the Jelly Belly section, Aida goes to help another customer.

“What are you getting?” Fitz asks curiously. 

Skye shrugs. “Dunno. A pound of random ones, probably. I’m honestly not that picky, except for buttered popcorn, which is disgusting.”

Fitz wrinkles his nose. “Is that a real flavor?”

“Damn, I should’ve just made you eat one blind,” teases Skye. “It’s an experience.”

Jemma practically skips into the store, going to kiss Skye’s cheek immediately. “Hello,” she says. “Having a nice break?”

“Yeah,” Skye says, starting to fill up a bag of jelly beans by just taking scoops from random bins. “There’s a new person working, too. Have you met Aida?”

“I haven’t,” Jemma replies. “I’m not exactly in here very often.”

“Oh, she’s very nice!” Fitz says. Aida seems to be just finishing up with the customer, so he calls, “Hey, Aida, come meet Jemma from MaggieMoo’s!”

Clearly unbothered by the summons, Aida glides over with that same sort of customer service smile, murmuring, “Hello, Jemma from MaggieMoo’s.”

Jemma looks about to reply, but her gaze drifts down to Aida’s name badge, which prompts her to sigh, “Oh, Fitz. Pay attention, would you?”

Fitz tilts his head. “Hm?”

“Look, I know you’re not used to looking at boobs, but you should really look at the button by the name tag,” teases Skye.

Still very pleasantly, Aida gestures to said button: it’s pastel purple and green and reads “they/them” in white letters. “You’re not the first one to miss it.”

“I don’t follow,” Fitz says.

“It’s a pronouns thing,” Skye says. “Aida uses they/them pronouns. It’s like how we say ‘he eats a sandwich’ about you, or ‘she fixes stuff’ about me.” 

“Oh,” says Fitz, still sounding puzzled. “I didn’t realize that was a thing people did. That’s not how people use ‘they’ in a sentence if it’s just one person.”

“I’ve sent you more than one article online,” Jemma sighs. To Aida, she adds, “I’m sorry. He’s very smart about some things and very daft about others.”

Aida, still smiling, says, “I’m not unused to having to clarify it for people.” They’re vague about whether or not this means they’re upset, but they’re not yelling anyone out of the store yet.

“Clarify what?” Fitz asks. He looks helplessly at Jemma.

Jemma, for her part, resists the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll let Aida explain, it’s not my place to,” she says calmly.

“Genderqueer is a term used to describe gender identities outside of the gender binary,” Aida says, as calmly as if they were a recording. “The term non-binary can be used interchangeably, if one prefers. These terms can encompass androgyne, intergender, agender, pangender, bigender, genderfluid, and demigender identities, to name a few, and which one you use is entirely up to you. Since I identify neither as male or female, and choose not to use the pronouns traditionally associated with male or female accordingly, I use the singular they or them.”

Fitz’s eyes are enormous and he’s sort of making noises like he’s forgotten how to form words, so Skye pokes him in the arm and says, “Alright, well, while he’s busy having his world blown we’ll get out of your hair. It was nice to meet you, Aida.”

“It was nice to meet you, too,” Aida says, giving a wave. “All of you. I hope to see you around.” They turn on their heel and go over to help a couple of teenagers browsing the big-eyed Beanie Babies.

Fitz continues to make non-word noises and wave his hands around, so Skye sighs and heads for the counter to pay for her candy. Once she’s done, she says, “C’mon, let’s head out. You can make distressed dog noises out there.”

To his credit, he waits to sputter until they’re far enough away from the store to not be overheard. “But I don’t understand! You have to be one or the other, don’t you?”

“No, Fitz,” Jemma sighs, shaking her head. “You really don’t.”

“Also, it’s kinda not about whether or not you understand,” Skye says dryly. “It’s about you not be a shithead to Aida and using the right pronouns for them.”

“But...but biologically there are male and female organs and, and it’s not a both or neither thing…”

“Let’s sit,” Jemma suggests as they approach the food court. “Yes?”

They herd Fitz over to a table, as Skye says, “Actually, you can totally be both or neither. Intersex people are a thing too, dude. They’re not biologically male  _ or _ female. It’s more common than you’d think, look it up. Aida’s just figured out they’re not a guy or a girl, it’s a real thing.”

Jemma nods. “And on top of that,” she says, clearing her throat like she’s about to give a class presentation, “biological organs are technically unrelated to the social construct of gender, although they’re treated as being one and the same by a lot of people. Someone could have so-called male organs and not identify as a male, or they could identify as male  _ and  _ female. In some cultures, there are specific other gender identities, such as Hijra people in India and Two-Spirits in Native American cultures, and in several countries, such as Nepal, Pakistan, and Australia, there’s a legally recognized third gender, which can encompass any and all of these identities.”

“I suppose,” Fitz says, sounding doubtful, “but why go to all that trouble when you could just be one or the other?”

Jemma catches Skye’s eye in hopes of silently telegraphing her exasperation, then shuts her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Remember when we had all of the conversations about sexualities?” she asks Fitz.

“Yes,” he says, getting a bit sulky. “What’s that got to do with this?”

“It’s the same sort of thing, at least enough that I feel comfortable using the analogy,” she explains, trying to sound calm. “Some people are attracted to the presumed ‘opposite’ sex as themselves, some people are attracted to the same sex. Some people are attracted to both of the sexes, or more than that - remember, bisexual and pansexual are largely just different terms for similar concepts - and some people, like yourself, are not sexually attracted to anyone, though you do feel aesthetic and romantic attraction. All of these attractions are on sliding scales, where you can be more attracted to some people than others or only attracted some of the time.”

“Yeah, I know that, Jemma,” Fitz says, tilting his head. “Again, what’s that got to do with Aida?”

“Gender is the same sort of variable notion,” she says. “Some people feel that they’re the gender that correlates, in common culture, with the physical body they’re born with. Some people feel that they’re the ‘opposite,’ some people feel that they’re more than one gender, some people feel that they’re genderless or not any named gender. Again, it’s sliding scales. We’re both fortunate to have it easy, as you said, in that I was born biologically female and I consider myself to be a girl and you were born biologically male and you consider yourself to be a boy. But some people aren’t. Transgender people may or may not physically transition into a body that they feel better suits them, and genderqueer people might do the same, or they might not. Either way, the issue isn’t what you or I think about their identity, it’s what the person in question says is true.”

“Also,” Skye chimes in, “you know how sometimes people are dicks and insist asexuality’s not really a thing and you’re just making it up or whatever? You know how shitty that feels? You’re acting a lot like those people right now.”

Fitz’s expression changes slightly, and then he makes a sulky face and says, “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody’s feelings or anything.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not really the point,” Jemma says softly.

“Yeah, like, what are you gonna do about it now that you know you probably hurt their feelings?” Skye asks. 

Fitz shuffles his foot. “I could go apologize.”

“You could,” Jemma agrees. “It might not be a horrible idea, but you’d have to be careful that it’s not just going to come across as feeling bad that you made a mistake.”

Fitz nods. “I suppose. Maybe I could write them a note and give them something?” 

“Not a bad idea,” Skye says. “Maybe go see if Clint’s place has got any cards that aren’t totally ridiculous.”

“They’ll be totally ridiculous,” Jemma chuckles, “but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We should go and help.”

 

* * *

The next afternoon when Aida arrives at work, there’s an envelope with their name on it sitting on the register, next to, for some reason, an inflatable gold crown. None of their coworkers are jumping out to claim responsibility, so they open the envelope warily.

The front of the card has a picture of a dog sitting inside a collapsed, somewhat mangled camping tent, along with the caption “instrucshuns - who needz em.” From this, Aida can deduce that it came from Fuego downstairs. That still doesn’t clear much up for them.

Inside the pre-written caption is completely scribbled out and replace with a hand-written note that says “I do, apparently. I was an arse to you, sorry for that. I’ll do better. The crown is in case you feel like being royalty at work or something - enjoy? Have a nice day. -Fitz” 

It’s from the boy who came in yesterday, then. They can’t say that many people actually make this much of an effort to apologize. It’s probably the doing of the girls who came in with him, and they’re fully aware of that, but it’s still nice to see. 

They’re not intending to wear the crown where grabby children might covet it, but they do especially appreciate the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](http://madisonparkgroup.com/product-lines/i-can-has-cheezburger/products/greeting-cards/instrucshuns-birthday-card1) the card Fitz got for Aida, and [here's](http://www.shopfuego.com/Queen-for-a-Day-Inflatable-Crown-p/201500022104.htm) the silly inflatable crown.
> 
> There was some discussion on twitter about Aida getting fed up with Fitz's gender essentialist bullshit re: having a vagina and using they/them pronouns in retaliation, and we liked the idea and decided to run with it for this fic, since Aida wouldn't be a robot in mundane-verse. As far as canon goes, we are making no attempt to apologize for the dark, weird turns that it has taken with Aida, but as we so often are, we became very fond of the concept and character divorced from the circumstances and choices in canon.


	136. plain to be seen that it's all up to me, I'm no longer alone, though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a group therapy session, Laura tells everyone about connecting with her extended family and there are other amusing anecdotes.

“So how’s everyone’s week been?” Moira asks, glancing around the circle with a smile.

“Really good,” Kara says. “I had that party the other weekend, y’know, and I’m pretty sure my girlfriend’s roommates are probably going to start dating eventually. It’s cute.”

“Aw, cute,” says MJ, smirking. “And how’re you two doing?”

“I’m really happy,” Kara murmurs, grinning sheepishly. “It’s… really new for both of us. But it’s working, whatever it is.”

MJ nods. “That’s the important thing.” She pauses to make sure no one else is going to speak before saying, “Rehearsal for my play’s going well. The guy I’m playing opposite is really fun to act with, and really cute.”

“Gross,” scoffs Nebula, but her tone is almost fond.

“That sounds cool! When is it again?” Carina asks. “I wanna go every night.”

“Aw, you really don’t have to,” MJ says, grinning. “It’s not gonna be worth going _every_ night. But it starts the first week of May, you guys are all invited. I can get you discounted tickets too.”

“Well, every night I’m not working, at least,” Carina says. “I want to support you!”

“I’ll be there too,” Rogue says. “But prob’ly just once.”

“You guys are sweet,” says MJ, preening just a bit.

“I went to visit my Aunt Debbie and cousin Megan in San Fransokyo,” Laura says. “It wasn’t bad, but it was a little strange.”

“Oh!” Kara exclaims. “That’s… you’ve been thinking about that for a while, huh?”

Laura nods. “Debbie and I had been emailing for a while, and our schedules had both been too busy until last week. I wasn’t sure I wanted to visit them at first. I asked Logan about it, but he just told me I could do whatever I wanted, which wasn’t much help, since I didn’t know what I wanted.”

Moira nods. “It’s understandable for you to have been hesitant. You said Debbie hired someone to find you, right?”

“Yes. Apparently the reason she and my mother stopped speaking was that Mother had been involved in some controversial scientific fields, such as stem cell research, and her lab had been targeted by extremists and sent death threats. Mother went into hiding to protect not only herself and me, but also Debbie. Debbie remembered that her sister had had a child, even though she barely knew anything else, and hired a private investigator. The information she gave me in the emails made my mother’s death make more sense.” Laura says this last part matter-of-factly.

“Shit!” Carina yelps, then immediately she makes an apologetic face. “I’m so sorry, Laura.”

Laura shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s comforting to have answers. The police told me it was a random break-in that ended in homicide. It makes much more sense for someone to have been targeting her specifically. I don’t have to talk about it anymore if it bothers you.”

“It’s fine,” Carina says, waving her hands. “I’m just - I can’t even imagine.”

“Anyway,” says Moira, coughing. “What did you do while visiting them, Laura?”

“Megan likes to cut class, so she had to go to school while I was there, and Debbie had her take me with her. It was amusing, although some of her classmates were unpleasant. I informed her French teacher of multiple different torture techniques, though.” Laura smirks. “That was funny.”

Rogue laughs and rolls her eyes. “ _That_ went well, I bet.”

“They sent us to the principal’s office,” Laura says brightly. “And then when I refused to tell them where I’d learned those things, they told us we were suspended for the day. So then Megan said we were leaving and we hot-wired a teacher’s car to go to the mall.”

Moira’s so startled all she can say is, “Where did you learn to hot-wire a car?”

“Logan,” Laura replies with a shrug. “He said it might come in handy someday. He was right.”

Kara blinks. “Did you at least put it back after?”

“Sort of. We put it back in the parking lot, but it was after school had been out for a few hours.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” Kara says doubtfully.

“Megan also took me to me the pet store, and we played with the kittens,” adds Laura. “I have some pictures!” She pulls out her phone. “You can pass it around, there are a few pictures. I thought about bringing one home with me, but I thought it probably wouldn’t enjoy the plane ride.”

Unsurprisingly, Carina is the first to let out a long, sentimental “awww,” which she follows up with a sheepish smile. “They’re really precious,” she says, because there’s not much more she can say without getting accused of sappiness.

Nebula rolls her eyes, but nudges Carina’s shoulder fondly. “Did you go anywhere else?” she asks Laura. “Or shoplift or anything?”

“We went to the local amusement park, because I said I had never ridden a roller coaster. Megan had some birthday money that she used to get us in. Roller coasters are interesting, but I’m not sure I like them much.”

Moria looks as if she’s not sure whether to say something disapproving of Laura’s adventure or not, but after a minute she just sighs. “Well, at least you came back in one piece.”

“Yes. And I made a friend!” Laura smiles. “Megan said I should text her sometime. She also wants to come out here and see one of our shows.”

“Cool,” MJ says. “She sounds fun.”

“We could take her on adventures of our own,” Carina suggests, which implies the ‘more lawful’ part.

Laura nods. “That’s what I said. And she wants to meet Cessily too. I might Skype with her sometime to introduce them.”

“Well, it sounds like a generally productive visit,” Moira says. “But no more hot-wiring cars, please, Laura.”

“I can’t promise that. But I’ll try to avoid it unless absolutely necessary.”

“You’re supposed to have a couple of wild adventures like that as a kid, I think,” Kara says. “Not that you’re… but still. You’re making up for not doing anything like that before?”

Laura shrugs. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Did your aunt try to do any sentimental mom bullshit?” Nebula asks, scoffing just a little.

“She talked to me about my mother for awhile while Megan was supposed to be doing homework,” shrugs Laura. “She cried some. I didn’t, I just felt a bit uncomfortable, but it seemed to help her feel better. I didn’t mind it too much, though. Like I said, it helped make things make sense.”

“Good,” says Moira, nodding approvingly. “I’m glad you were able to get some answers about her.”

Laura nods. “Me too, I think. It was nice.”

“Uh,” Rogue interrupts, holding up Laura’s phone, “are you wearing an actual _corset_ in this picture?”

“Oh yes,” Laura says, “Megan lent me an outfit for school. She was right, they’re comfortable.”

“Damn,” says MJ, smirking, “you look good.”

“That’s… certainly interesting,” Carina murmurs. “You wore that to school?”

Laura nods. “I expected to get stopped by at least one teacher, but no one seemed to mind too much.”

“Did you bring it back with you, for Cessily?” Rogue jokes, snickering.

Laura blinks and tilts her head. “No. I don’t think Cessily would like wearing it at all, why would I bring it back for her?”

Kara bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “No reason, probably,” she murmurs.

Making a mildly uncomfortable face, Moira asks, “So, how’s everyone else been? Anything new to share?”

“We had an interesting time with, uh, with Nebula’s sister’s boyfriend’s kid the other day,” Carina says, very dutiful about removing personal names.

“Oh yeah,” Nebula says, snorting. “He asked why we were married but not having sex. That was a fun conversation.”

“Oh dear,” says Moira.

“Nah, it was pretty funny actually. I guess he has a buddy whose sister is like, knocked up and getting married, and he basically knows what sex is, and he knows we don’t have it. Just hadn’t connected the dots about marriages yet.”

“He’s working with a series of contradictions,” Carina explains. “I guess the friend presented his sister’s marriage as _because_ of pregnancy, which is because of sex, but Nebula and I are married and don’t, while his mom and dad were never married, so it’s confusing.”

“I guess that makes sense,” MJ says dubiously. “How’d you explain it?”

“Bluntly,” Nebula says, shrugging. “He didn’t seem to mind, though. And his dad’s used to me by now so it’s whatever.”

“Mi - his dad is a saint,” Carina says vehemently.

Moira chuckles. “Well, I’m glad you were able to educate the boy and answer his questions.”

“He’s a decent kid,” says Nebula. “I don’t mind him, most of the time.”

Kara laughs fondly. “That’s high praise,” she says. “But for what it’s worth, I know the kid in question too and he’s pretty sweet. Remember the teddy bear?”

“I do, vaguely,” Moire says with a smile. “He sounds like a thoughtful young man.” Then she pauses before asking, “Anyone else have anything to share?”

Rogue coughs. “I, uh, I went on a date the other night, with this guy.”

Carina’s eyebrow goes up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Rogue shrugs, too casually. “‘S alright. He’s an amateur magician so that was pretty goofy, but he’s nice enough. Brought me a flower taped to a playing card.”

“What,” Nebula deadpans.

“I didn’t mind it so much,” defends Rogue.

“That’s… a choice,” Kara says warily.

“Wait,” MJ says. “This isn’t gonna become like a _thing_ , is it?” She keeps her tone light and teasing, since she knows _dating things_ aren’t something Rogue’s that comfortable discussing.

“Geez, I dunno.” Rogue makes a face. “Jumpin’ the gun much?”

“He was talking about you at work today,” Laura says, smiling. “He said he thought you were really fun and he wants to ask you out again.”

“Laura,” warns Moira gently, “remember that we’re supposed to keep these sessions anonymous.”

“I didn’t say his name,” Laura points out.

“He’s too charmin’ for his own good,” adds Rogue, “He tried to rile me up a little too, nothing serious but still. He thinks he’s real cute. I dunno if I’m gonna go out with him again.”

Carina looks at Nebula, somewhat despairing. She knows, or can guess, how Rogue is about things like this. “If you don’t like it, don’t go out with him?” she attempts.

“Yeah, I know,” Rogue says, smiling her thanks. “Still thinkin’ about it.”

“Well, I trust you know how to take care of and protect yourself,” Moira says. “I’m sure you don’t need to told to use condoms?”

“Jesus,” says Rogue with a snort, “y’all are thinking farther ahead than me.”

“We’re just overprotective,” Kara defends sheepishly.

“It’s sweet, but we ain’t even held hands or anything yet,” Rogue replies, rolling her eyes fondly. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura's stories are inspired by the _Target X_ miniseries. We haven't seen _Logan_ yet and we don't have any plans to add elements from it into this fic.


	137. now, I've given in, why fight it when I'm resigned to simply live in your wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world's most awkward double date happens, and in completely unrelated circumstances so does violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw bigots.

The four of them have been sitting in complete, awkward silence for a full minute after the waiter took their orders and left when Melinda says, “So, Phil. We’ve been to Applebee’s before. Why are you just _now_ acting awkward about it?”

Coulson swallows audibly, glancing at Rosalind for a second before responding, “I’m, uh, not sure what you’re talking about.” It doesn’t sound convincing at all.

Sif snorts, nudging Melinda fondly. “Remember when we were all on the same trivia team?” she asks, eyes gleaming.

“Oh, now _that_ sounds interesting,” Rosalind exclaims, clearly picking up on the fact that there’s a story to be told.

Coulson colors slightly. “I’m not sure we need-”

“Phil was the team leader,” explains Sif, grinning mischievously. “To varying effect.”

“ _Was_ he,” Rosalind murmurs, nodding to encourage Sif to keep telling the story.

“Yes,” says Sif. “He was being a bit... _bossy_ isn’t the kindest word…”

“But it’s accurate,” Melinda adds dryly.

“I can hardly imagine,” Rosalind coos, looking at him slyly.

“It, it really wasn’t like that-” stammers Coulson.

Melinda snorts. “You were competitive. It made you kind of unreasonable.”

“I’m sure you thought it was for the best,” Rosalind says, sounding like she doesn’t for a second believe it actually _was_ for the best.

Coulson looks sheepish. “At the time, I guess I did.” He smiles a bit nervously at her.

“Well, it was all in good fun, no?” she presses.

“Mostly,” Sif chimes in, rolling her eyes in a way that she hopes passes for fond.

Rosalind can sense that hidden undertone of not-quite-satisfaction with him, and it doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. “When was this, exactly?” she asks.

“Almost two years ago,” Melinda says. “You weren’t in the picture yet.” She smirks.

“No, I wasn’t,” Rosalind agrees, somewhat pointlessly (and somewhat with the point of embarrassing her boyfriend).

Very flustered, Coulson says, “It really wasn’t that bad…”

“There, there,” Rosalind murmurs, smirking wickedly. “I’m sure it was, but you do like to get your way. It’s all right.”

Coulson is bright red at this point and looks around as if flailing for another conversation topic. Finally his eyes land on Maria and Maya, sitting several tables away, and he says, too loudly, “Oh! There’s Maria and her girlfriend!”

Sif glances over. “So it is,” she says, like she thinks maybe Coulson might talk more and embarrass himself.

“I didn’t know they’d be here tonight,” Coulson says. “She sure looks happy. I’ve never seen her look that happy before, and I’ve seen her tasing people.”

Melinda snorts. “Is that so.”

“I’m sure tasing happiness is different than romantic happiness,” Rosalind observes.

“Maybe,” Coulson shrugs. “I didn’t think she was the type to care that much about stuff like this.”

“You’ve never seen her outside of work,” says Melinda, looking smug. “She’s fun.”

“She seems like she would be,” Rosalind remarks. “In a dry, dangerous kind of way.”

“I could ask them to come out with us sometime,” Coulson says hesitantly to Rosalind. “If you want.”

“Maybe,” Rosalind says, like she’s not sure yet how much she wants to make him blush. “I’ll think about it.” She pauses to take a sip of her water, then asks, “So, what have you two been up to lately?”

Sif grins. “Well, I’ve been getting ready for Ren Faire that’s coming up soon.” At Rosalind’s raised eyebrow, she explains, “Renaissance Faire, it’s a festival where we all dress up like it’s medieval times and have jousting tournaments and dances and things like that. My friends and I have been going for years. It’s fun!”

“I’ve heard of those, but never gotten close enough to learn what’s going on,” Rosalind says. “What does getting ready entail?”

“I’m working on making a new hat for myself, and helping Mel with her costume.” Sif beams at Melinda. “She’s agreed to come with me for a weekend.”

Melinda smirks, amused. “Should be interesting. I’m making a leather skirt.”

“There’s more than one weekend?” Rosalind asks.

“It usually runs for a month or two, in the spring and early summer,” explains Sif. “But I told her she only has to go one weekend.”

“We’ll see if how I like it,” says Melinda. “It’s…” She shrugs, looking fondly at Sif. “She likes it, so I’ll try it out.”

“I have pictures of my outfit,” Sif says proudly, pulling out her phone. “See?”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Rosalind says, looking them over and sounding a little surprised that she’s not having to fake the compliment. “How long have you been going to those?”

“Thor and his family have been going since they moved here when he was a kid,” Sif says. “His dad doesn’t much anymore, but he used to be one of the main organizers for this area’s events. They took me the first time...maybe it was eighth grade? And we’ve all gone every year since, at least for a couple weekends.”

Coulson nods. “Sounds...fun?”

“It is!” Sif says. “They don’t let me joust anymore because I’m one of the only contestants who tries to get the horses to do more than walk forward.” She grins. “Not my fault most people don’t know what to do on horseback.”

“Do you ride?” Rosalind asks.

“I used to regularly, I haven’t in awhile. I keep meaning to drag Mel off to one of those places where you can rent horses for an hour or two, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“That sounds like fun,” Rosalind comments.

Coulson, looking alarmed, says quickly, “Your costume looks very nice!”

“Thanks,” Sif says, biting back a snicker. She’s pretty sure Rosalind’s interest is only out of vague social obligation, but the idea of Coulson on horseback is damn funny.

“And you’ll, uh,” Coulson adds, turning to Melinda. “You’ll look...nice...in a leather skirt.”

“Hopefully,” Melinda says.

Rosalind gives him a look that may or may not be a warning.

He coughs to cover it up, and then says, “So...Sif...you said you do things with weapons.”

“Yes,” Sif says, snorting slightly, “which I think you already knew. But yes, I used to do the joust, and I still participate in some of the fencing demonstrations.”

“I _am_ looking forward to that,” Melinda says.

“Are those very serious?” Rosalind asks.

“The fencing, yes, since it’s a very specific, choreographed event. The jousting is...usually controlled, but people have a lot of mead so most people are just waiting for one of the knights to fall off the horse.” Sif laughs. “I never did.”

“Choreographed as in you rehearse beforehand, or there’s only a certain set of things you can do?” Rosalind presses. She actually seems sort of curious about this.

“First we demonstrate the basic moves, then a few more advanced ones, and then we have a mock match,” explains Sif. “It’s a much more legitimate sport nowadays than jousting, so we take it fairly seriously.”

Melinda nods. “She’s good,” she says, smiling faintly at Sif. “It’s interesting to watch.”

“It certainly sounds it,” Coulson says. “Were you in competitions or anything?”

“I was on a couple of teams when I was younger, and I was pretty good,” Sif says, tossing her head proudly. “Not for awhile though.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Rosalind says, and she might mean it.

Sif nods and is about to say more, but then her phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her pocket. “Shit,” she says, eyes wide. “Elena and Joey are over on Wilson and there might be trouble.”

Melinda perks up a little. “Oh?”

“What’s going on?” Coulson asks, frowning.

“Something about some kids giving them shit for her accent and their Spanish,” Sif says, rolling her eyes. “You feel like checking it out, Mel?”

“Of course,” nods Melinda. “Should we get Maria?”

Just as she says her name, Maria comes over to their table. “So,” she says. “I hear we have a situation. You guys up for some asskicking?”

“Always.” Melinda opens her wallet. “Phil, Rosalind, I’m leaving cash to cover us, but we might come back.”

Maria gestures to Maya, who’s still seated at the other table but watching them. “Maya’s cool with me cutting out, but can she come over here? She doesn’t bite,” she adds with a smirk.

“Of course,” Rosalind says warmly, smiling and waving Maya over.

“Hey, thanks,” Maya murmurs, carrying her plate over. “I don’t mind eating alone, sometimes, but if there’s danger afoot out in the world… y’know.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rosalind promises. “Safety in numbers, isn’t that right, Phil?”

Phil nods, looking slightly nervous. “Of course. Please, sit.” He nods at the other side of the table.

Maria leans over to kiss Maya’s cheek. “Be back soon,” she promises, and then heads out the door with Melinda and Sif.

“So,” Maya says, with a slightly awkward smile, “heard about Nike’s new hijab line? About time, I say. Thoughts?”

 

* * *

 

“Is it Hydra?” Melinda asks as she and Sif hurry along.

“Didn’t sound like it, and there aren’t enough kids in Hydra right now anyway.” Sif snorts. “Maybe that weird Watchdog thing that Skye and all of them infiltrated at the party.”

“Great,” sighs Melinda. “We needed more aggressive bigots.”

“Hopefully it’s just a couple of random teenagers,” Sif says, but she doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“You guys,” Bobbi whisper-shouts, waving them over.

“Hey,” Sif says. “What’s going on?” Elena and Joey are standing a little ways away with about half a dozen young men in front of them, and they’re all snapping at each other. Elena looks like she’s about ready to pop one of them in the mouth.

“So far they’re just talking, aggressively and terribly,” Jemma reports. “But they’ve got those… bigot puppies on their clothes, a couple of them, so Elena was worried.”

“Ah,” says Melinda. “Delightful. We jumping in?”

They all move a bit closer, slowly, and one of the puppies spots them, and laughs. “You with them?” he asks, nodding at Joey and Elena.

“Yeah, actually,” Skye says. “What’s up? Sounds like you guys are upsetting our friends.”

“Something like that,” says Elena, lip curling.

“I can’t imagine why they’d be bothering you,” Jemma says coolly. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“They’re here,” another of the puppies says. “That’s wrong enough for us. But I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand, limey whore.”

Jemma actually bursts out laughing at that, to her credit. “Bit out of left field there, isn’t that?” she asks, clearly glad to be bearing the brunt of their idiocy for as long as it takes for the others to really rev up. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard an American call someone a _limey_ before, at least not in a way that’s clearly meant to be an insult.”

“Aw, go back where you came from, Queenie,” the puppy retorts. “America should be for Americans.”

“Who, might I remind you, were originally Brits,” Jemma says sweetly. “Granted, there was some conflict to be had back then, but I’d thought we’d all gotten over the Revolutionary War by now.”

“If you love Europe so much, why aren’t you in it?” another puppy asks. “Nobody wants you here, or your… friends of many colors either.”

She rolls her eyes viciously. “I like where I came from, but right now I like being here,” she says. “And my friends - I’m not even going to deign to dissect that little colloquialism of yours - like being here too, which means they’ve as much right to be here as you do.”

“Yes,” Sif chimes in, clenching her fists, “if I were you I’d move along and forget you ever talked to any of us.”

“Or what are you going to do about it?” the presumed leader of the little gang asks.

“Make you sorry you didn’t leave,” Sif says with a smirk.

“Ooh, very intimidating,” snarks the one who spoke first. “Buncha girls and that wuss, I’m quaking in my shoes.”

“If by wuss you mean person who you expect isn’t heterosexual, you’re going to get your asses kicked by a whole _bunch_ of wusses,” Jemma shouts, then promptly she retreats behind the others as they start to take fighting stances.

One of the puppies steps forward to take a swing at Skye, and manages to land on her shoulder, which makes her yell and kick him in the shin. Another steps forward to try and grab onto Bobbi, hissing, “Nice girl like you should get some better friends.”

Of course, this just means she snarls and decks the guy in the face, then kicks him once he’s down. “Douchebag like you should stop hanging around anyone. You assholes just enable each other.”

Meanwhile, Elena is whaling on another one, who seems sort of taken aback. “Vete a la verga culero!” she yells, after he’s finally gone down.

Melinda and one of them are taking swings and kicks at each other, and he’s spitting insults at her. She’s largely ignoring him, and they dance around each other for a minute or two before she finally jabs him in the nose and he goes sprawling with a screech.

One puppy is slinking over towards Jemma, who’s trying very hard to blend into the nearest wall, and Skye notices this and sprints over to knock into him from the back, kicking him a couple of times for good measure. “You okay?” she asks Jemma.

“Just startled,” Jemma promises. “You?”

Skye shrugs, grinning. “Bruises, but I’ll live.” She’s got a nice dark one developing on her cheek, but she turns around to help Joey and Maria, who are double-teaming the last one.

Once all of the Watchdogs are either unconscious or too stunned to chase after them, Elena says, “We’d better get out of here, in case they have friends somewhere nearby.”

“We could go back to Applebee’s,” Sif says, shrugging. “I think we’ve all earned a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _vete a le verga culero_ ; "fuck you, asshole" but literally "go to a dick"


	138. now, I've too much to hold, everybody has to get their hands on gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Saint Patrick's Day, and wackiness ensues at Luke's bar.

“Smile,” Jessica says, smirking evilly as she holds up her phone.

“Not doing that,” grunts Luke, giving her phone an exasperated look.

“It’s going online either way,” Jessica replies sweetly, taking half a dozen pictures before lowering the phone. “It really brings out your eyes.”

“I’m not supposed to take it off,” sighs Luke, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous green leprechaun hat and fake ginger beard he’s currently wearing. “‘Cause of the holiday.”

Trish glances up from her own phone, smirking. “I think it’s cute,” she says. “Also, Jess, I’m impressed. You haven’t posted to Facebook in months.”

“Haven’t had a good reason,” says Jessica with a shrug.

“This is a good reason?” Luke snorts.

“Yup.”

“I should refuse to serve you,” says Luke, smirking.

“You wouldn’t,” counters Jessica.

“You’re right.” Luke turns to start mixing their drinks.

“Cute,” Trish repeats. “You’re kinda wrapped around our fingers. Hers especially.”

“Don’t remind me,” Luke says, chuckling.

Jessica and Trish are about two drinks in, Jessica snarking about the other bar patrons, when someone they recognize walks in. “Oh my god,” Misty crows, sauntering through the door. “It’s true.”

Luke glances up. “Misty,” he says. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“Oh, I was planning on staying the hell in and reading a book or something before Jones posted this leprechaun shit,” she laughs. “Had to make sure it wasn’t just some Photoshop Snapchat edit thing.”

“Definitely real,” Jessica says smugly. “Staff rule for tonight, I guess.”

“Lucky me,” snorts Luke.

“This continues to be a ridiculous white people holiday,” Misty smirks.

Luke chuckles. “Pretty much. Gonna be more of that later. You want anything?”

“Sure,” she says, sliding onto a barstool. “Just the usual. Has it been crazy?”

“Not yet, but we’ve only been open an hour. It’ll get worse.”

“There’s not a tendency toward bar fights in this place, is there?” Trish asks.

“Not much anymore,” Luke says. “Haven’t been here on Saint Paddy’s before, though. Hopefully it won’t get exciting.”

Jessica pouts a bit. “That’s boring.”

“If there are any, you can handle them,” he says fondly. “Alright?”

“Cool.” Jessica takes another sip of her drink. “You get in any good fights lately, Knight?”

“Some drunk asshole wearing a dog hat was being rambunctious in the student union building the other night, and I wound up having to use violent methods to take him in,” Misty says, shrugging. It’s clear she’s not too put out by this.

“A what now?” Trish asks. “Were you under attack by raging furries? Because those guys can be scary.”

Luke snorts. “Probably not what she meant.”

“Nah,” Misty says, but she’s laughing. “He just had one of those knit hats with dog ears on it. Didn’t look like the cutesy animal type, is why I remembered it. He was yelling some incoherent bullshit about America and bugging people, and he didn’t listen when I asked him nicely to stop.”

“Sounds like a charmer,” snarks Jessica. She glances at her phone and laughs. “People are liking the pictures, Luke.”

“What? Gimme that.” She hands her phone to him smugly, and he sighs. “Of course it was Reva.”

Misty raises an eyebrow. “You two still talk?”

“Sometimes.” Luke shrugs. “Not for awhile, but from what I see she seems happy. Dating some scientist girl named Betty now.”

“Fair enough,” Misty says, nodding. “I’m guessing she gave you shit about the getup.”

“Wouldn’t be Reva if she didn’t,” Luka says with a smirk.

A few minutes later, Wanda, Pietro, and Hope walk in. Pietro is hopping from foot to foot and immediately power walks over to the dance floor; Wanda and Hope opt to start at the bar. “Hey,” Hope says, waving. “This is definitely a night you’re supposed to go to bars.”

Jessica chuckles. “Yeah, good choice. Hey, you two. I see Sonic already went to burn off some of that energy.”

Wanda giggles a bit nervously. “He doesn’t like bars much. Not enough room to run around, he says.”

“This isn’t typically the place one goes for that,” Trish says cheerfully. “Pull up some seats or something, enjoy the show.” She nods to Luke.

“What do you guys want?” Luke asks.

Wanda seems unsure and glances at Hope; in turn, Hope shrugs and says, “Dealer’s choice?”

Luke chuckles. “Alright. I’ll make you a whiskey sour. Want anything, Wanda?”

“Not something with much alcohol in it,” Wanda says, wrinkling her nose slightly. “I don’t like drinking in public much.”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Luke replies, turning to start their drinks.

Wanda looks over at Misty, smiling. “Hi. You’re the new security guard on campus, right?”

“Yeah,” Misty says, extending her hand. “Misty. And you?”

“Wanda. My brother Pietro is over there.” Wanda points at Pietro, who is doing his best to jog in place on the dance floor (and getting some stares for his troubles). “And this is Hope, my girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Misty replies. “You guys come here often?”

“Sort of,” Hope says. “My, uh, my old roommate used to bring me. Before I was actually legally allowed to drink, so Luke kinda babysat.” She smiles sheepishly.

“Aw, cute,” Misty chuckles. “Good for you, keeping kids out of trouble.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Not that she’d get into all that much trouble by herself.”

Jessica nods. “Yeah, she’s a decent kid. Probably shouldn’t be hanging around us.” She grins and takes a long drink, as if to punctuate it.

“You guys are cool,” Hope says, somewhat defensively (even though she’s defending them to themselves, so it’s kind of silly). “And I’ve always had kind of random friends.”

“Because people like you,” Wanda says, smiling a little shyly. “You’re nice.”

Hope’s shoulders roll instinctively and she grabs Wanda’s hand. “You too,” she says.

“Gross,” Jessica says, but not meanly.

Wanda squeezes Hope’s hand back, then notices Hope is checking her phone and asks, “Was Darcy coming tonight too?”

“Probably,” Hope says. “Ian’s out of town, and I think Rogue is, y’know, busy, so she’s gonna be alone and on the prowl, maybe. The very casual prowl.”

“That’s kinda her thing, isn’t it?” Trish asks, sipping her drink.

“I guess, yeah,” Hope shrugs. “I probably couldn’t do that, but hey, she enjoys it and everyone knows what they’re getting into.”

Luke slides the drinks over to Hope and Wanda. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Wanda takes a sip of her drink and nods.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hope echoes, still with her slightly-nervous smile. “Did we miss anything crazy?”

Jessica shrugs. “Not really. Luke’s wearing a stupid leprechaun hat, Misty punched someone wearing a stupid dog hat earlier, that’s about it.”

“Dog hat?” Wanda says, raising an eyebrow. “It sounds like one of those Watchdog boys who keep appearing lately.”

“She makes it sound like I got in a bar fight,” Misty says, rolling her eyes. “It happened on campus. Some rowdy asshole screaming about -”

“Change and America?” Wanda makes a face. “There’s at least a few of them on campus. They’re...unpleasant.”

“Something like that, yeah,” Misty says, sounding both surprised and troubled. “Who are they?”

“Some new… I’m not sure if gang is the right word yet, but group,” Hope says. “Kinda…”

“Hydra-lite,” finishes Wanda. “Not as organized.”

“We went to this party they were having a little while ago,” Hope adds proudly. “To see what was up. I’m not sure we really learned much except for their general dog motif, but.”

“Got out in one piece, at least,” says Luke, smiling at her.

“It wasn’t scary, actually,” Hope says. “Which is probably scary in and of itself.”

Wanda nods. “Most of them are trying to seem normal, I think. They want to bring more people to their cause, so they pretend like they’re not horrible. It’s a known manipulation technique.”

“Makes sense,” Misty sighs. “The gangs around here, or groups, whatever, seem to be that kind. The ones that aren’t going to get talked about on the news.” She rolls her eyes, letting the others fill in the reason (it’s not difficult to do).

“Sorry.” Jessica drinks. “Bet you thought you were gonna have an easy time here.”

“Thought I was gonna have a different time here, which I definitely am,” Misty says, shrugging. “Different manifestations of the same fucked-up shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda says.

“It’s life,” Misty says. “I figured on there being a lot of that no matter where I was. That’s the whole reason I’m working to stop it, or trying to.”

“Just like old times,” Luke says, smirking.

Trish looks about to say something, but she’s interrupted by Darcy (who may already have been drinking a little) sauntering over and shouting, “Hey, Mr. Leprechaun, if they’re making you serve green beer they should be fired.”

“No green beer here,” Luke says, rolling his eyes. “Luckily. Can I get you anything?”

“Can you do something with green apple?” Darcy asks. “Seasonal but not disgusting.”

“I can do that.” Luke turns to prepare it.

“Hey,” Jessica says.

“Hey,” Darcy replies, nodding like she’s much cooler than she is. She glances around the bar for a moment before saying to Wanda, “Your brother… certainly is dancing.”

Wanda snickers. “Yes, that’s what he does when he can’t run around. It...sort of works?”

“Good enough,” Darcy chuckles. “Don’t suppose I could interest any of you in a turn on the dancefloor?”

“I’ll pass,” Hope says immediately, looking apologetic but also like she knows she has to say something or she’ll be dragged along.

“I’m fine too,” Wanda adds.

“Not in a hundred years,” Jessica says casually.

“I’ll dance,” says Tegan, appearing from somewhere in the greater crowd. “Why not? Nobody’s judging.”

“Not much,” corrects Jessica.

 

* * *

 

“You want anything to drink?” Akela asks Elena.

“Surprise me,” Elena says, grinning. “You know what I like.”

“Of course,” Akela says, smiling at her before heading to the bar.

Jemma raises an eyebrow, mostly in Skye’s direction, but she doesn’t say anything on the subject. Instead, she asks, “Has everyone had a nice week?”

“You know the answer to that, Jem,” Bobbi says, somewhat playfully. “Yeah, it’s been fine.”

“Not much to complain about,” Elena replies. “People left things where they shouldn’t be, I had to pick them up and put them back, and so on. Annoying but not different from any other week.”

Skye nods. “Yeah, it was kinda just whatever.”

“Hopefully this is better than whatever, then,” Jemma says with a smile.

“Well, yeah, I’m here with you guys and you’re awesome, so.” Skye leans over to kiss her cheek. “And,” she adds slyly, “I see Tegan already found somebody to hang out with.” She nods toward where Tegan and Darcy are chatting on their way to the dance floor.

“Seems about right,” Bobbi chuckles.

Elena grins. “I hope she has a nice time.”

“I _bet_ she will,” Skye adds mischievously.

“Bet-bet?” Bobbi asks.

“I mean I don’t think they’ll go home together tonight, but that’s gonna happen eventually.”

“That would be nice,” Jemma says. “For them. Didn’t you say Rogue is all…” She waves her hand noncommittally. “You know. With the boy from New Year’s.”

Skye nods. “Yeah, she’s texted me about it. She’s being cagey as fuck, but I can tell she likes him.”

“Aw,” Bobbi croons. “That’s cute. He’s kind of schmaltzy, but he seems like an acceptable dude to be into.”

“Sure,” says Jemma, sounding a bit doubtful (though mostly only of her own ability to judge such things). “But that’s good, because then since she’s doing that, Darcy will still… girlfriend. Type person, not to presume.” She shrugs, flushing some.

Giggling, Skye squeezes her hand. “Exactly. You’re cute.”

“Occasionally I try, but that wasn’t one of those times,” Jemma replies smugly. “Thank you.”

Akela returns, holding a glass which she passes to Elena. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Elena takes a long sip. “So are we gonna dance once I finish this?”

Bobbi shrugs. “I could go for dancing.”

“Yeah, let’s do it!” Skye grabs Jemma’s hand and tugs her toward the dance floor.

Jemma squeals, but she lets herself be pulled along, and Bobbi follows after them with a smirk; Elena downs the rest of her drink and grins. “I’d planned on taking a little more time with that, but oh well. Shall we?”

Akela nods. “Let’s go.”

They dance for a while (Akela and Elena reasonably but not suspiciously close together) until a cacophony cuts through the music. “The fuck?” Skye asks, wincing.

“That’s not part of the playlist,” says Elena dryly.

“Sounds like someone’s getting in the holiday spirit,” Bobbi snarks.

“Are those... _bagpipes?_ ” Akela asks.

“Better call Fitz,” adds Skye. “He’ll know what to do.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing. “As evidenced by that quip you made, bagpipes are Scottish, and typically a bit more grating,” she says. “That… I’m guessing it’s a different kind of pipe, and -”

“Happy St. Paddy’s!” a male voice shouts. “Irish pride!”

Jessica, since she’s still at the bar, spots the culprit first. He’s young, college-age, and both clearly Irish and clearly drunk. “Hey,” she calls, “pride is great and all but don’t blow out our eardrums while you’re at it.”

Hope frowns and tugs Wanda’s hand, whispering, “Is that a dog on his jacket?”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “It certainly looks like it.”

Luke goes over to the guy’s table, where he and a couple of other boys about his age have clearly been camped for awhile. “Hey, you can’t play that in here. Be cool, okay? Everyone here is just trying to have a good time.”

“So am I,” the newcomer says. “I’m just celebrating.”

“I thought you and your friends were all about being American,” Elena, who’s nearest to them, says.

“We are,” he retorts. “But I’m celebrating my _heritage_. My ancestors came to America because it kicks Europe’s ass, but they still brought culture with them.”

“Um,” Skye interjects, “I’m pretty sure it’s more than a little counterproductive to yell about how you want American stuff to stay American and then come and yell about your Irish pride all over a bar, dude.”

He narrows his eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Hey, now.” Luke says. “I won’t have talk like that. Keep that up, you’ll have to leave.”

One of the other guys, who’s seated, gets up. “You gonna make us?”

“Are we?” Misty asks.

Luke glances at her and shrugs. “I’m on the clock. You guys do what you want.”

“Oh, we’re gonna.” Jessica gets up from the bar. “Right behind you, Knight.”


	139. and I know that holding us in place is simply fear of what's already changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey accidentally acquires a dog and enlists Pepper's help.

When Rhodey gets to work on Thursday morning, the first thing he sees is his coworker Joseph frantically running towards him. “Rhodey! Uh, weird question, do you have a dog?”

“..........no?”

“Do you want one?”

Rhodey sighs. “Lemme guess, you found a stray or something.”

“No, my wife’s work is transferring her to California next week, but the thing is, the apartment they got for us doesn’t allow dogs. So I’ve got like forty eight hours to figure out what to do with Bob Barker.”

Snorting, Rhodey says, “I can’t believe you say the whole thing.”

Joseph shrugs. “Erik thinks it’s funny, so we all just got used to calling him that. Please can you just take him for a couple days while I call around to shelters and stuff?”

“Look, you’re gonna have enough on your hands with...when are you guys moving?”

“Anna has to be out there by next week, the kids and I will be taking a little while longer to make sure the house sells and stuff. I just...I don’t want to drag the goodbye out longer than I have to, you know?” Joseph looks pleadingly at him.

“Alright. How about I just take the dog and figure out what to do with him myself? I’ll find him a good home.” Rhodey has a sinking feeling that that means _his_ home, but hell, he likes dogs.

“Thank you! I get off today at four, I’ll text you my address.”

Rhodey nods, pulling out his phone to text Pepper.

_> >Hey, what are you up to tomorrow?_

It takes a few minutes for her to respond.

_> >Day off. Why do I have the feeling that’s going to change?_

_> >Uh. I may have accidentally gotten myself a dog._

 

* * *

 

Bob Barker is an adorable, if somewhat annoyingly cuddly, grey-and-black spotted corgi who brings Rhodey his ball to throw at every opportunity. Honestly, by the time Rhodey goes to bed (Bob Barker curled up at the foot of it) he’s kind of fond of the little guy.

The next morning, Pepper shows up at the appointed hour, refill bag of dog food in her arms. “So,” she says upon Rhodey opening the door, “how’s the pup?”

“Super friendly,” Rhodey says, as Bob trots over to sniff at the newcomer, tongue lolling. “Also ridiculously fast. The little bastard almost got away from me on the walk home last night.”

“I can’t imagine him running with those little legs,” Pepper admits, crouching down to give Bob some scritches.

“You wouldn’t think so, but he saw something he liked and just took off.” Rhodey laughs. “He’s sweet though. Likes to get up in your space if you’re sitting down.”

“I take it that means he’s allowed on furniture?”

“Even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter,” shrugs Rhodey. “He’d sneak up there. Anyway, thanks for agreeing to watch him. I don’t have a super long shift so it should be fine.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” she replies, shrugging. “Guess it’s better for him not to be alone just yet in his new place.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Tony got sulky ‘cause I didn’t ask him, but-”

“But Tony needs a babysitter himself, so it makes sense,” Pepper supplies.

“Exactly.” Rhodey rolls his eyes. “The dog shouldn’t give you too much trouble. I guess just walk him around the block or something if he needs to go out, it’s up to you. Just be careful in case he decides to take off again.” Grinning, Rhodey touches her arm fondly. “You should be fine.”

“I did make sure to dress for dog wrangling,” Pepper agrees amiably. “Go on, I’ll text if something happens. And to be clear, that very much includes the dog being too cute.”

“Sounds good.” Rhodey leans down to scratch Bob Barker on the head. “See you later, bud.”

Keeping one eye on Bob to make sure he doesn’t try to run after Rhodey, Pepper waves goodbye, and once the door is closed she’s filled with an overwhelming sense of being in over her head, one she wasn’t expecting, but then, it’s not like she has any experience with dogs, so it’s not that strange, is it? She glances down and suggests, “Come with me,” wandering into the living room.

Bob Barker does, but somewhat doubtfully, like he knows she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

Which is insane, because he’s a dog. But she gets the feeling she shouldn’t actually go this alone if she wants it to turn out halfway decent.

So, once they’re settled in on the couch (Rhodey is right, the little guy’s a snuggler) she pulls out her phone and texts Natasha.

_> >Rhodey accidentally acquired a dog and I accidentally got myself into babysitting it._

_> >Oh my god, really? That’s hilarious. How do you accidentally get a dog?_

_> >How did you accidentally get a cat?_

_> >Point taken. You just texting to bitch about it or what?_

_> >Actually, I was wondering if you and yours might swing by to help out a little, show me the ropes of dog-watching._

_> >You’re in luck, Steve and James and I all have the day off. Lemme text them and see if they’re...busy. ;)_

_> >I’m not inviting you over for anything that involves winky faces, don’t be ridiculous._

_> >Don’t flatter yourself, Potts. :P _

Fifteen minutes later Natasha texts again.

_> >We’ll be over in like an hour, okay?_

_> >Fine. Let’s hope the dog decides to stay asleep until you show up._

_> >Sorry. They were, y’know, busy._

_> >Whatever. We’ll be here. _

(Pepper knows better than to take the bait a second time.)

It doesn’t quite take them that long, but when she opens the door Bucky comes in holding two full Petco bags. He immediately drops them and coos, “Hi there!” as Bob gets up, ears pricked, and jumps off the couch to investigate the newcomers.

“Hey,” Pepper says wryly. “You didn’t have to bring anything. He came with all his own toys.”

“Dogs always need more toys,” Bucky explains, scratching the dog’s belly.

“Hi,” says Natasha to Pepper, smirking. “He insisted on a pit stop for these.”

“I guess that’s to be expected,” Pepper replies. “Though at least you clearly don’t have to bribe him to love you.”

“I have a discount card, it’s whatever,” says Bucky. “Steve, oh my god, you have to come feel his ears!”

Steve chuckles and kneels down to do just that. “Very good ears,” he agrees.

“I do wanna know what happened to make Rhodey ‘accidentally’ adopt this dog,” adds Natasha.

“His coworker is moving someplace that doesn’t accept dogs, but they just found out,” Pepper says. “So it was kind of a scramble to get him adopted out, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Bucky frowns. “He’s so sweet though.” Bob has rolled back over and retrieved his ball to offer to his new friend. “Is it okay if I toss it in here?”

“Apparently that’s been happening pretty much nonstop,” Pepper says. “Just be careful. He’s also a runner, Rhodey says.”

“We could take him on a field trip to the dog park,” points out Natasha. “James could talk to you about stuff you guys need to know on the way there.” She says “you guys” casually, but her eyes are gleaming like that means something more.

Which Pepper definitely catches. “You’re implying something,” she says.

“Hm? No, I just mean ‘cause he asked you for help, so the both of you are gonna need to know stuff.” Natasha keeps her tone innocent.

“You did sort of have that look,” Steve points out, in a voice that’s too innocent to be innocent.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“The one like you know something you’re not saying.”

“I know lots of things.”

Bucky snorts. “She thinks you guys are gonna bone.”

Pepper bursts out laughing. “And where did _that_ come from?”

Natasha shrugs casually. “Just a hunch. You can shrug it off if you want.”

“I’m going to,” Pepper says. “Rhodey and I are just friends, cliched as that sounds.”

Bucky nods. “Sure. Anyway, Pepper, you wanna take him to the dog park? When’s Rhodey getting back?”

“He’s gonna be back before dinner,” Pepper says, “so sure, let’s take a walk.”

Bucky has Pepper hold the leash, but he stays close just in case. “You want just enough give that he can get ahead of you a little, but not so much that he’s gonna pull it out of your hand,” he explains.

‘That makes sense,” Pepper nods. “And hey, at least he’s not giant, so he’s not going to tug too hard, I’m guessing.”

“Not like any of Buck’s,” Steve chuckles. “They’ve all been known to get… rowdy.”

“They’re good dogs,” Bucky says stubbornly. “Just excitable.”

“That’s one word for it,” says Natasha with a smirk.

“Hey, rowdy doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Steve defends.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky grins. “Nice save.”

Bob Barker seems to be wanting to pick it up, so Pepper asks, “How much should I let him steer?”

“A little is okay, but you don’t want him getting any wild ideas. If he wants to check out a bush or something, that’s fine, but you should always be ready to get him out of the way if a situation suddenly becomes dangerous.”

“Okay,” Pepper nods. “How do we deal with other dogs?”

“If you don’t know how he’s going to be, it’s best to shorten the leash so he can stick close to you. It’s always better to hold them back then risk someone getting hurt, since you never know how another dog will act. Once we get to the park there’s an off-leash area, though, and people don’t usually bring their dogs to the dog park if they’re not friendly.”

“That makes sense,” Pepper says. “Am I doing okay so far?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah, you’re fine. See, he’s happy just trotting along sniffing at stuff. If he wants to stop, let him, and pick up after him if you need to. It’s not that complicated.”

Pepper nods. “I can do that,” she says. “Thanks for showing me the ropes. I guess it’s my good luck you’re all off today.”

“Yeah, we all went to see _Power Rangers_ super late last night,” explains Bucky, “so Steve and I got the day off months in advance.”

Steve grins, a bit sheepish. “It was important,” he says with a shrug.

“Or something,” Natasha adds wryly. “They’ve been fans since they were kids. It was alright. Kind of dumb, but I was expecting that.”

“Um, I think you mean _awesome!_ ” says Bucky, grinning. “It was awesome,” he assures Pepper.

“Glad you had a good time,” Pepper says. “I don’t know if it would really be my kind of thing, but if it’s yours, I’m glad it worked out.”

“But now they want the five of us to dress up as them for Halloween.” Natasha rolls her eyes fondly. “And _that’s_ not happening.”

Pepper bursts out laughing. “Whyever not?”

“Boob cups,” says Natasha flatly.

Bucky pouts. “ _Pleeeeeease?_ ”

“ _Boob cups_.”

“Boob… cups?” Pepper asks.

“The girls’ suits have boob cups on them,” explains Bucky, smirking, “and she didn’t like that at all.”

“It was ridiculous,” says Natasha with a snort. “I’m not wearing a suit with boob cups.”

“Yeah, but it was like an exoskeleton-”

“You dorks can wear whatever you want, but I’m not wearing boob cups.”

“Couldn’t you make it without those?” Pepper asks innocently.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” insists Natasha, tossing her hair. “Also, they’d make me be pink, probably. I’m totally the yellow one.”

“You could be the yellow one,” Steve says.

“And anyway, you can’t be pink with your hair,” Bucky points out. “It wouldn’t go at all.”

Natasha considers this, then shrugs. “Only if I can’t come up with anything better.” She will.

By this time, they’re about to the dog park, and Pepper asks, “Is this the usual crowd?”

Bucky glances around. “Give or take, yeah. It’s a weekday in the middle of the afternoon, so it’s not as busy as it is on the weekends. I’d give him a bit more leash and let him explore a little before seeing how he does off-leash.”

“Okay,” Pepper agrees, setting about doing that. “How busy is it on weekends?”

“Reasonably so, if it’s warm and sunny. Right now it’s just warming up, so more people are starting to come. I usually bring my three monsters out at least once a week just because they need the exercise, but most people avoid it if it’s too cold.” Bucky laughs. “Wusses.”

“Or smart people,” Natasha replies, smirking.

Bucky rolls his eyes good-naturedly and says to Pepper, “Anyway, yeah, let him sniff around a little and then if you want you can let him off-leash.”

Pepper nods, following Bob Barker’s lead as he does just that, mostly exploring bushes and twigs but with no real intention behind it. After a minute or two, she unclips him and lets him go scamper, asking, “What now?”

“Just keep an eye on him. Especially if he runs into another dog and things get aggressive, you’ll wanna be ready to intervene. It should be okay though, he seems pretty chill.”

“I get that feeling,” Pepper agrees, “but just so I know, what defines aggressive?”

“Pay attention to the body language. If they’ve got their hackles raised or teeth bared, that means they’re warning each other. Dogs will nip at each other when they play, so that’s not usually a big deal, but if you hear Bob or another dog crying out like they’re in pain, it’s time to go separate them. Doesn’t usually happen, though.”

“Got it.” Pepper glances around, folding her arms casually as she declares, “There’s a lot that goes into this stuff. It’s good of Rhodey to have stepped in.”

“Yeah,” agrees Bucky. “I think you guys will be fine, but you can text me if you run into any trouble.”

“I’ll let him know,” Pepper says.

Natasha grins. “I see you’re not arguing the _you guys_ part.”

“Well, I’m taking care of Bob now, and he’s going to be doing that later,” Pepper replies, shrugging as if to wave it away. “That’s all.”

“Uh huh,” she says, still grinning.

 

* * *

 

They’re all back at Rhodey’s, Bob Barker snoozing in his little dog bed and the four of them watching a shitty movie on TV, when Rhodey comes home. “Oh, hey, I didn’t realize it was a party,” he says, smiling.

“I called them for help,” Pepper admits. “That okay?”

“Totally, yeah. How are you guys?” Rhodey hangs up his jacket and heads for the kitchen.

“Doin’ fine,” Bucky says. “Your dog is adorable.”

“Yeah, I’m getting used to him,” Rhodey says fondly. “I see you managed to tire him out.” He nods at the dog bed, then notices the various toys scattered around. “Did you, uh, go toy shopping?” he asks Pepper.

“They did,” Pepper says, with a pseudo-guilty little smirk.

“Someone loves to spoil dogs,” Steve adds, his own smirk wholly sincere.

Bucky looks innocent. “I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get bored.”

“Let me guess, you just _have_ a bunch of toys lying in wait for when somebody gets a dog,” teases Rhodey.

Bucky clears his throat. “Not... _this_ time…”

Natasha snorts. “Anyway. Now that Rhodey’s back, I think we’d better head out.”

“Thanks for helping out, you guys,” Pepper says, standing to see them out.

“Of course,” Bucky says. “I expect picture updates of the little guy.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Rhodey says, waving from where he’s planted himself on the couch with a beer.

Natasha winks at Pepper as they leave. “Good luck,” she murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“I should probably get going too,” Pepper says, suddenly sheepish.

“Oh, okay,” says Rhodey, sounding a little disappointed. “If you have stuff to do, yeah, go ahead. I don’t wanna keep you.”

Bob, as if on cue, stirs awake and runs over to look up at Pepper with the saddest eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” Rhodey says, getting up, “c’mere. She’s gotta go but you can snuggle with me.” He leans down to pick up Bob, who nestles into his arms but still whines at Pepper.

“I don’t really have anything pressing that I need to do,” Pepper says hesitantly.

Rhodey laughs. “I mean, if you wanna go, don’t let us stop you. I can figure out a way to keep him happy.”

“I wouldn’t mind hanging out more,” she says, and she reaches to give Bob scratches behind the ears. “He is pretty charming.”

“He is that,” agrees Rhodey. “Here, I can put him down, and then do you want a beer or anything?”

“Yeah,” Pepper nods. “That sounds really good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Bob](https://vetstreet.brightspotcdn.com/dims4/default/a5d2248/2147483647/thumbnail/645x380/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fvetstreet-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F64%2Fa6%2Fc7c25eff487aa2e3f9fb5df002e9%2FCorgi-Cardigan-AP-1QQR6A-645sm12714.jpg).


	140. send me the miles and I'll be happy to follow you, love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura has something to tell Clint.

It’s ten thirty on a Tuesday morning, so there aren’t exactly people beating down Fuego’s door. Unsurprisingly, Clint’s the only one scheduled, so he’s been playing around on his phone since he opened the place. It’s not like there’s been any customers, after all.

He’s burned through his lives in Kwazy Cupcakes and scrolled through Twitter when a text from Laura pops up.

_> >We need to meet for lunch. Today._

Clint frowns. She usually adds a smiley or something, so it already sounds uncharacteristically serious.

_> >Okay, what’s up?_

She’s clearly deliberating for a few seconds, but then she speeds through a response.

_> >I need to tell you in person. I can’t say it over text._

Suddenly he feels like he might barf. _Is she gonna break up with me?_ He texts back _okay, love you_ and then immediately feels like he probably shouldn’t have, if this is a breakup lunch.

_> >Love you too._

Okay, so that’s a good sign. She isn’t too upset to say “I love you” back - unless she just wants it to seem like nothing’s wrong and she’s still going to break up with him…

He’s just about to text Natasha in a panic when she conveniently walks by the store.

“Nat!” he calls. “Oh my god, Nat, I think Laura’s gonna break up with me!”

Natasha stops, backtracks, and enters the store. “What?” she asks, as if Clint has just declared that he’s decided to become a toaster.

Clint holds up his phone. “Laura sent me some weird texts and she wants to meet for lunch and she sounds really serious.”

After reading the texts in question, Natasha sighs. “Well, I guess I walked by at the right time to intercept your meltdown.”

“Well, I don’t want her to break up with me! I love her!” protests Clint.

“C’mon. Think about it for a second. Is there any reason you can think of that she’d want to break up with you? Has she been distant or acting weird lately?”

Clint pauses to think. Finally he says, “I don’t think so.”

“And you haven’t done anything dumb that would piss her off?” Natasha smirks.

“Wow, what a supportive friend you are,” grumbles Clint. “No, not that she’s talked to me about. And she mentions that stuff.” It’s one of his favorite things about her - she doesn’t just make him guess when she’s pissed off, which he’s _really_ bad at.

“Okay, so if you haven’t done anything to piss her off and she hasn’t been acting weird before it’s _probably_ not her wanting to break up.” Natasha pats him on the shoulder.

“But then why would she be all serious about it?”

Natasha blinks. “Do we need to have a talk, Barton?”

“About what?” Clint tilts his head.

“Never mind,” sighs Natasha. “Just go to lunch with her, okay?”

He knows that tone. It’s her “I know something you don’t” tone. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asks.

“It’s really not my place to say. Look, just go to lunch and if I’m wrong about this I’ll buy you a beer, alright?” Natasha gives him an encouraging smile. “I’m not, but I’m throwing the offer out there anyway.”

He pouts and is about to try some very undignified begging when she adds, “I gotta get out of here, my shift starts in ten minutes. You’ll be fine, Clint, I promise.” She squeezes his shoulder and then turns to go before he can do anything.

“Okay,” he says, and catches her eyeroll as she leaves. He sighs and opens Twitter again. Might as well see if funny memes will help distract him until he can get out of here.

 

* * *

 

Finally, he’s able to leave, and he practically sprints down to the food court. He’s done for the day, so if Laura really _is_ breaking up with him he can just go home and rewatch some _Community_ episodes or something. (It’s his go-to show when he feels shitty.)

He finds her at one of the three tables they usually stake out, drinking a smoothie.  “Hey,” she says, and she sounds chipper, at least.

“Hey,” he says, smiling at her in what he hopes isn’t a nervous way. “Lemme just go grab a burger or something and I’ll be right over.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “I’m not in a hurry.”

That doesn’t really make him feel any better (because why would she be in a hurry to dump him, dumping someone sucks for everybody involved) but he goes to get his food anyway. Once he’s back and sitting down across from her, he asks, “So. What’s up?”

“Uh,” she says.

“Did someone die?” he asks, eyes wide. “Or is someone dying? Are _you_ dying?”

“I’m not dying,” Laura murmurs, sipping her smoothie.

“Is it Fireheart, did something happen to him? Did he throw up or something?”

“No,” she says, “but, uh. I did.”

“Aw, babe,” he says, gently taking her hand. “Are you feeling okay now? Do you need to go home or anything? Stomach flu?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I was feeling, y’know, worse in the morning.”

“Did you eat something weird?”

“Pretty sure it’s not something I ate,” she sighs. It’s not like she’s trying to trick him or anything, it’s just harder to come out and say it than she thought.

“Okay,” he says, tilting his head. “So then what’s going on? Do you need to go to the doctor or something?”

“I mean, yeah,” she says. “Not today, but I would rather have a doctor-supervised pregnancy than just wing it.”

He blinks. He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “Uh, say what now?”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeats. “Definitely one hundred percent pregnant.”

He’s so shocked that all he can say is, “I don’t think it’s something you can be fifty percent on. I think you’re just pregnant or not.”

“I mean, yeah,” she mumbles. “I guess unless you’re counting percentage as like, how far along you are, at which point I’d be only like twenty percent pregnant? Or thirty, maybe. But I’m definitely pregnant.”

“...wow,” he says, eyes wide. “Uh. That’s. Wow. What do you wanna do about that?”

“I hadn’t really gotten that far,” she admits. “I like kids, obviously, and I like you, obviously, so I’m not… disinclined to… something?”

He laughs, a little nervously. “I mean, I don’t wanna pressure you into anything. If you’re not ready yet then that’s cool.”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, twirling her straw. “I don’t not wanna. With you. I don’t not wanna with you.” She grimaces. Did that make any sense?

He nods. “Okay. Cool. I mean, uh, yeah, same. I’ve never been a dad before so I might fuck it up, but I wouldn’t wanna, y’know, do that with anybody else.” He coughs. Then he gets an idea and stands up suddenly. “Wait here for a minute, okay? I gotta go get something!”

“Uh?” she says, but he’s already running.

He runs down the hall, careful not to run into anybody (only a couple close calls) and skids to a stop inside Kay Jewelers. He pants, “I need a ring!”

Callie is behind the counter, and she knows now what to do in this situation, which is to duck into the back room without a word and summon Victoria. “That guy is here,” she says, frowning.

Of course, Victoria knows exactly who “that guy” is, and she sighs. “Thanks for telling me, Callie,” she mutters, pocketing her phone and striding out to deal with it. “No, Barton.”

“No, you don’t understand!” he protests. “I _mean_ it this time! She’s pregnant!”

“And you didn’t mean it before you got her knocked up?” Victoria asks, smirking. She doesn’t mean to belittle, but it is sort of a funny choice of words.

“No, I did, but y’know, now I have an excuse to ask.” Clint runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, I’d do it either way, if she’ll have me.”

Victoria raises an eyebrow. “That sounds less manic than usual,” she concedes.

“Please? I know which one I want, I looked online.” Clint looks almost sheepish. “I wanted to be prepared.”

She’s about to tease him further - _prepared for if you got her pregnant and decided to make an impulse buy?_ \- but then it occurs to her that that’s not, probably, the best way to actually figure out if he’s thinking this through. (She actually cares if he’s thinking this through. She’s trying not to judge herself for that.) “And you think she’s going to be interested?”

“I hope so,” he says. “She said she’s...well, she said she’s still thinking about what to do, and I thought maybe I’d just throw it out there as an option. And if she says no, I can just bring it back, I guess.” He shrugs. He’s really, _really_ hoping she doesn’t say no. “Please?”

She really is getting soft, but Callie isn’t going to tell anyone who matters and Clint should know better than to. “Fine,” she says. “Which one are you thinking of?”

He pulls up the picture on his phone. (He had it bookmarked just in case.) “Here,” he says, grinning. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It’s certainly a ring,” Victoria agrees judiciously. She’s not really fond of most of the products she tries to sell, but she knows how to be nice. “I’m going to get it for you in just the standard size, expecting she’ll probably have to come in and get adjustments. That’s normal.”

He nods, eyes wide. “Thank you! I appreciate it, y’know.”

“Just doing my job,” she says, trying very hard not to smile.

 

* * *

 

He runs back to Laura ten minutes later, the box tucked into his pocket. “Okay,” he says, dropping to one knee once he’s arrived at the table. “I know this is kinda sudden and if you want me to do it fancier later, I totally can, I had a bunch of ideas about how this was gonna go, but…” He pulls the ring box out of his pocket. “Marry me, Laura?”

“Uh,” Laura says, yet again. “Yes?”

He grins and leans up to kiss her, but then asks playfully, “Why’d that sound like a question?”

“It isn’t!” she yelps. “I just. I wasn’t expecting this. I’m a little freaked out. But good freaked out.”

“Oh, sorry. Like I said, I can do it again later if you want something fancier, I just thought-”

“It’s fine,” she says, laughing. “It’s more than fine. I’m just dealing with a hell of a lot of new things all at once.”

“But you do actually wanna get married?” he asks, a bit anxious.

“Yeah.” She grins and leans in to kiss him. “Yeah, I really do.”

“Awesome,” he says, and then, before he can really think about what he’s doing, he announces to the entire food court, “The best girl in the world just agreed to marry me, and she’s having my baby!”

There’s a chorus of cheers and applause, although most people seem either amused or baffled. “It’s actually both of ours,” she adds, but then she hides her face against his shoulder because this is definitely enough attention for the day.

“Of course,” he adds cheerfully, kissing her on the cheek.

 

* * *

 

Once Laura’s gone to work, Clint texts Natasha (luckily, she’s still got a few minutes on her lunch) and runs to meet her outside the Gap. “She’s pregnant!” he says, or maybe yells, he’s not really sure about his volume control at the moment.

Natasha smirks. “Good, I don’t have to buy you a beer. And I was right. Smooth move, Barton. I know you know how to use condoms. What, did you forget?”

“Hey, she was on birth control! It was only a couple times!” He cuffs her on the shoulder, still grinning. “And I proposed to her too.”

“What.” At that, Natasha actually looks surprised. “Jesus Christ. Was that something you were planning, or…?”

“I had the ring picked out and stuff. I thought I might as well ask. She said yes!”

“Of course she did, dumbass.” Natasha grins. “There’s literally no way she wasn’t going to, unless you did something super douchey like ask on a Jumbotron or something. And you’re smarter than that. Now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gives her the goofiest smile. “Dude, I’m getting married though. And I love her.”

“I kinda figured that out,” teases Natasha. “But yeah, congratulations. I’ll throw you a kickass bachelor party.”


	141. starting here and starting now I can feel the heart of how everything changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint tentatively starts planning a wedding; he's not the only one.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Clint says, eyeing the entrance to Applebee’s nervously.

Natasha rolls her eyes and sips her drink. “Trust me, this will be better in the long run. She actually knows how to do some of this crap.”

“Yeah, but-”

Just then the door opens. “Oh god,” groans Clint, putting his head in his hands. “Why do I let you talk me into things?”

“Nice to see you too, weirdo,” Bobbi quips, sitting down at their table.

Clint sighs. “Hi, Bobbi.”

Bobbi smirks and raises an eyebrow at Natasha. “So why was I summoned, exactly?”

Natasha glances at Clint. “You wanna share with the class?”

“Fine,” says Clint. “So...I proposed to Laura. And she’s pregnant.”

“And considering you’re deigning to tell me, I’m guessing she said yes,” Bobbi says.

“Yeah.” Then Clint glances at Natasha, like he’s not sure what to do now.

“Well, you’re around wedding stuff all day,” Natasha says with a shrug. “I thought maybe you’d have some advice or something. Better than me, anyway.”

Bobbi sighs. “There are worse assumptions, I guess,” she says. “Look, the first thing I’m going to tell you is that you cannot plan this all by yourself. She gets to be involved too, it’s not the 1600s.”

“I know _that_ ,” says Clint. “They didn’t even have TV in the 1600s!”

“Obviously,” Bobbi mutters.

“Well, what did you do for _your_ wedding?”

Bobbi flusters, muttering something indistinguishable, and it’s at that point that Lance wanders by and casually says, “We didn’t really do much of anything, ‘cause _someone_ was ashamed.”

“I was not,” Bobbi hisses, though she’s bright red.

“Uh huh,” says Natasha with a smirk.

“Well, we just went to someplace private and out of the way,” Bobbi rushes. “It wasn’t anyone else’s business.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call Vegas private and out of the way,” quips Lance. “But tell yourself whatever you need to, I guess.”

“There wasn’t anyone there to gawk at us except the minister and the one witness,” Bobbi snaps. “Private enough for me.”

Natasha grins evilly. “Was the minister Elvis?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bobbi says casually. “No, he most certainly was not.”

“This isn’t helping me at all,” sighs Clint. “Laura would hate Vegas.”

“This brings me to another point,” Bobbi declares, glaring at Lance. “I’m really not the person to ask about successful marriages.”

“But you work at the wedding store!” protests Clint.

“I work at the wedding _dress_ store,” Bobbi corrects. To Lance, in an aside, she says, “I need a drink.”

“Anything in particular?” Lance asks, smirking.

“I walked here,” she says, which is to say - and he’ll know this - _make it strong._

“Got it,” he says, turning to go. “Anyone else?”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Clint says. As Lance is leaving, he adds to Bobbi, “So then...what _am_ I supposed to do?”

“When are you planning on going through with this?” Bobbi asks, folding her hands underneath her chin.

“Uh,” says Clint. “Soon, I guess. We haven’t talked about it, really, she’s still at work.”

“Then she needs to make her appointment with us - the dress store - as soon as she can,” Bobbi says. “We’re a little less insane than the fancy-ass TLC wedding dress stores, but the more time we have to get something perfected the better.”

“Oh,” Clint replies, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Uh, okay. What should I do?”

“Tell her to do that, and know that if you show up to her appointment I will personally kick you out of the store,” Bobbi says solemnly. “I don’t really buy that whole ‘bad luck to see the bride’ bullshit, but there’s a couple of traps that men fall into at dress appointments. I doubt you’ll be the one who’s impossible to please, but the one who loves his bride in anything is almost as unhelpful.”

Natasha snorts. “Good call.”

“I’m sure some of the girls at work have a list of wedding planners that work for cheap,” Bobbi continues. “I’ll find that, make you a copy, and after that no more questions, okay?”

“Okay,” Clint says, nodding.

“I get to be best man, right?” Natasha asks.

“ _Duh!_ Who else would I pick?” Clint grins at her. “Besides, I know you’ll plan me a kickass bachelor party.”

“You couldn’t handle the kind of kickass bachelor party you’re imagining,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes fondly. “But you’ll like it.”

“Do I get to come?” Lance asks, appearing with a tray of drinks.

In unison, Clint, Natasha, and Bobbi all say, “No.”

 

* * *

 

Later, while Clint and Laura are snuggling on the couch in Laura’s basement apartment and eating takeout, Clint says, “Y’know, we should probably move in together soon.”

“Yeah, probably,” Laura laughs. “Here. You should move here.” Then she glances around - it’s not exactly large, and also, it’s in the basement of someone else’s house - and cringes. “Maybe not here, actually. Maybe neither of the places we already have.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my place?” teases Clint.

“I’d just as soon not, considering it would be us, your dog, my cat, and a baby,” she points out. “I’m thinking practically.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says with a grin. “Should we...I dunno...look for a house or something? Like, renting, let’s not get crazy here.”

“That doesn’t sound like the worst idea,” she admits. “It’d be nice to have room to put, like, a swingset or a sandbox or… other things that kids play with that may or may not start with the letter ‘s’.”

“You’re adorable,” he replies fondly. “But yeah, that sounds nice. I bet Lucky would love to have a yard to run around in.”

“And he could run without you having to worry about him stealing food from strangers,” she adds.

Clint snorts. “Yeah, yeah.” He’s quiet a moment. “Also, Bobbi suggested we hire a wedding planner or something. Um. I guess we wanna get on that pretty soon, huh?”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea to get it out of the way, as it were,” Laura nods. “Not that… but, y’know. Before we’re having to worry about… baby stuff quite as much.”

“Yeah.” Clint pauses. “Do they make wedding dresses for pregnant women? Like, to buy in a store? I hadn’t thought about it before.”

“I mean, they must,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “But I’d really rather hurry up and get married not looking like I swallowed a beach ball.”

“Aw.” Clint leans over to kiss her cheek. “You’re gonna be so cute though.”

“Thanks,” Laura mumbles, ducking her head for a moment. “But hey, another bonus, if we get it done before I start showing we don’t have to admit to the kid that they were an accident, at least as early.”

Clint snorts. “That sounds so mean. ‘Accident.’”

“Exactly why I don’t want to admit it right away,” she points out. “But, I mean. We did it while I was on the pill and I still got pregnant, that’s definitely an accident. A happy one! But still.”

“I guess,” he says, laughing. “I wasn’t planning on telling the poor kid that until it’s old enough to understand, though.”

“Me either,” she says. “But what happens if they look through wedding pictures and I’m about to pop? That’s kind of a dead giveaway.”

“Then we say the stork beat traffic and came a little early.” Clint grins and kisses her forehead. “It’ll be fine.”

“The stork, really?” Laura asks. “Isn’t that a little… done?”

“They’re not gonna know that, they’re gonna be like four,” he says with a shrug.

“I’m coming up with a better story,” she decides. “No cliches in this house.”

He laughs. “Alright, alright, you can figure it out then. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she says.

 

* * *

 

Natasha and the rest are all over at Bucky’s house the next day, lounging around and half-watching a _Chopped_ marathon that’s on TV (Sam’s choice). Sharon is playing tug-o-war with Artemis, while Bucky and Sam are trying (in vain) to tire out Callie with a game of fetch.

And Steve is curled up on the couch, looking so introspective that once the episode is over Sharon asks, “What’s up?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said nothing, would you?” Steve asks, cracking a smile.

“Nope,” says Bucky lazily, tossing the ball for Callie again. “We know you better than that, Rogers.”

Steve sighs. “All right,” he says. “It’s not nothing. It’s just that, lately, it seems like all of these things are starting to happen…”

“Things?” Sam teases. “Be more vague, huh?”

“Everyone’s making these big life decisions,” Steve corrects. “And I keep thinking maybe the perfect moment will happen for me to… but I’m getting tired of waiting. Any moment can be the perfect one if we make it that.”

“You okay there?” Sharon asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “It’s just that we’ve been talking about this for a while, and…” He shakes his head and pulls a ring box out of his pocket, reaching to give it to Bucky with a sheepish shrug.

Bucky gets the goofiest smile on his face. “Ah, jesus,” he says. “You jackass, you didn’t give me a chance to get you a ring.”

“Yeah, well, I’m offended that he didn’t tell me either,” says Sam, though he’s grinning so he can’t be that offended. “I don’t have a ring for my legal matrimony partner either.” He winks at Sharon.

“Maybe I’ll get you one first,” Sharon retorts, sticking out her tongue.

“And hey,” Steve adds, “this way we can make sure they match. If you don’t like the one I picked out, Buck, we can start over, or we can work off of that one.”

“Alright,” Natasha says, gently pushing Apollo’s sleeping head off her lap, “that’s my cue for alcohol.” She gets up and heads in the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky says, loud enough that she can still hear him, “I guess this means I should be looking for that farmhouse for all of us, huh?”

“Can’t hear you, Barnes,” she calls, opening a beer with gusto.

“Y’know,” Sharon declares, “I would have thought you’d be flashier about this, Steve. Make a bigger deal.”

“Showmanship is overrated,” Steve says blithely. “It’s not how I do it that matters, it’s that I did it.”

“It was cute,” Bucky says, pulling him over for a kiss. That lasts awhile, until Natasha wanders back over to gently whack Bucky on the back of the head with a pillow and then dart away. “Hey!” he says, disentangling himself from Steve to get up and chase her.

“You just couldn’t let it stay sappy,” Steve jokes.

“Nope,” calls Natasha, managing to stay ahead of Bucky until she ducks into his bedroom. At that point, she just gives up and lets him tackle her onto the bed.

“Gotcha!” Bucky plants a loud, wet kiss on her cheek. “And that’s what you get for interrupting!”

“Gross,” she says playfully, but then gives him a fond kiss on the lips.

Sam ambles in. “Hey, room in here for one more?”

“Nope,” says Bucky, sprawling across the bed. “Go find your own cuddle pile.”

“Oh, that is so not happening.” Sam plants himself on top of Bucky, careful not to completely mash Natasha beneath both of them.

Steve and Sharon approach together, hands loosely twined, wearing identical smirks. “I see how it is,” Sharon teases.

“Hey, I overrule James and I say you guys can come in,” says Natasha with a smirk.

“What! Who says?” protests Bucky half-heartedly, but Steve and Sharon are already joining the pile.

“I never got a thank-you kiss,” Steve complains, clearly teasing.

Bucky snorts. “What’d you think the one earlier was for, dork?” But he leans up to kiss Steve again, because that’s not exactly a hardship.

“An escalation kiss, it’s a whole different thing,” Steve murmurs, nuzzling into Bucky’s neck.

For awhile there’s a series of lazy makeouts amongst the bunch of them, then finally Bucky pauses to point out, “We’d better figure out how this is gonna work. Like, a double wedding or should we try for separate ceremonies…?”

“If we did them separately, it might be more of a hassle,” Sharon points out. “Since we’re also going to want to do a less legal group thing.”

“Mm, good point,” muses Sam. “There’s gotta be a way to do that.” He grins over at Natasha. “That part okay with you, Nat?”

Natasha snorts. “Yeah, fine. Just as long as it’s not overly sappy or whatever.”

“Sharon and I probably shouldn’t say anything yet, though,” Sam says playfully. “Just ‘cause the gossip train’ll turn it into a whole thing about how she’s pregnant too.”

“Aw, I’m the opposite of pregnant,” Sharon retorts, nudging him.

“I should hope so,” teases Sam.

“No kids for now, please,” says Bucky, grinning. “I wanna continue spending my twenties as an irresponsible asshole.”

“You’ve already got enough on your hands, with the dogs,” Steve replies, somewhat as an amendment. “One thing at a time.”

“ _So,_ anyway,” Natasha says. “To change topics. I’m supposed to plan Clint’s bachelor party, anyone got any ideas for shit to do?”

“Condoms,” says Bucky with an evil grin. “A billion condoms everywhere.”

“Well, duh, I already thought of that. I gotta embarrass him, it’s my job.”

“Do you, really?” Steve asks.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “It’s best friend rules, Rogers. Anyway, he did this to himself. We have to remind him of his oversight.”

“Is that really how it goes?” he presses. “Did I just miss out because my best friend has always been my boyfriend?”

“Um, _excuse_ me,” interrupts Bucky. “Someone is forgetting all the shit he used to do to embarrass me in high school. How convenient.”

“It _so_ wasn’t the same!” Steve exclaims, laughing. This is only sort of the truth.

“Liar.” Bucky gives him a fond shove and then says, “So, Tasha, you gonna do any traditional bachelor party things? Strippers or whatever?”

Snorting, Natasha shakes her head. “Nah, he’d hate it. I dragged him to a strip club once and what happened was, _I_ flirted with all of them while he stood there looking like a frightened animal. Hilarious, but not really what I’m going for here.”

“I can’t really imagine him with strippers,” Sharon admits, chuckling. “I feel like he’d offer to buy them all dinner, but all he could afford would be McDonald’s.”

“Oh my god, I bet he would,” laughs Natasha. “I mean, he’s pretty respectful of sex workers, but he definitely doesn’t know how to interact with one at all.”

“Hey, you could do condom water balloons,” Sam says. “My army buddies and I used to do that sometimes.”

“Not a bad idea,” Natasha says, smirking.

“Darts!” Bucky adds. “You could have a dartboard with them.”

“A balloon dartboard?” Sharon asks, because she’s trying to imagine such a thing.

“Yeah. It could spell out CONGRATULATIONS or something. You get prizes for hitting the balloons.” Bucky shrugs. “I dunno, I’ve never been to a bachelor party.”

“That sounds overly complicated,” Sharon laughs.

“Also like it would take up way too much space and too many balloons,” Steve adds.

“We’ll work on it,” Natasha says. “We probably have a month or two at least.”

“Should I plan a party for Laura?” Sharon asks. “Is she even gonna care?”

“Probably not? I’m not gonna worry about it unless either one of them bring it up,” says Natasha. “She’ll probably have somebody she’s known longer do something.”

“Okay,” Sharon says. “I mean, if you need to enlist me I’m game, but I’m not exactly used to this stuff either, considering Aunt Peggy’s idea of a bachelorette party was dinner and the gun range.”

“Aw, no worries,” Natasha says. “I’m pretty sure Laura’s idea of a party is like, a cat cafe.”


	142. now I'm wide awakened and still paying for the poison they sold me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To counteract the Hydra and Watchdog parties happening the same night, some of the mall folks throw an alternative anti-fascist party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the Young Avengers, the Runaways, and Burnell and Amy from the Framework, who are great. Also, Kate Bishop is Asian, sorry not sorry.
> 
> cw mention of usual Nazi things.

“So this was hanging up in here when I got in today.” Luke slides a crumpled flyer toward Jessica and Trish.

Jessica spits out the sip of her drink she just took. “Christ, what _is_ that?”

“Hydra recruitment bullshit,” Trish mutters. “Clearly. It’s like the dog party the kids sneaked into, but more obvious.” She rolls her eyes. “Fuckers.”

Luke nods. “Boss must’ve okayed it without knowing what it was. At least I took care of it.” Now that they’ve seen it, he crumples it up again and shoves it in his pocket.

“How could he not _know_?” Trish asks. “I feel like they’re not really a secret anymore.”

“People miss obviously horrible shit every day,” Jessica points out, shrugging.

“There are a couple guys I’m pretty sure are members that come in here sometimes,” adds Luke. “They don’t flash the tattoos, but you can tell. Always hope they’ll get in a fight bad enough for me to kick ‘em out, but it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe they’re some of the less stupid ones.”

“Less stupid being relative,” Trish snarks. “Did you at least tell your boss what was up?”

“Tried. Not sure how much of it sunk in.” Luke rolls his eyes. “So I guess we’ll have to tell everybody to steer clear of that party.”

“Or,” Jessica says, eyes gleaming, “we could crash it.”

“Could we… not?” Trish asks, putting her head in her hands. “It’s fun for you to kick their asses, I’m sure, but this isn’t like with Kara’s dog. There’s not an on-paper reason.”

“Nazis aren’t a reason?”

“I mean, they are, but busting in _just ‘cause_ sounds like not the best plan,” Trish sighs. “I’d rather nobody get murdered this weekend.”

“I guess,” shrugs Jessica. “Oh, hey, I should take that flyer, actually. Show the others.”

“All yours.” Luke fishes out the crumpled ball and hands it to her.

“Maybe we could do something that doesn’t potentially involve gun violence,” Trish suggests.

“Like?”

“I don’t know,” Trish says, frowning. “I mean, there has to be something, right?”

“Maybe? I’ll ask ‘em.” Jessica takes another drink. “Not exactly Ideas Girl, here.”

The next night, Luke is wiping down the counter (it’s Tuesday, not exactly prime drinking time) when he overhears someone say, “Party this weekend is gonna be sick, man.” He pauses, barely breathing, to listen.

“Right? Great idea to have it at the same time as those Hydra losers. Our party’s gonna be _way_ better.”

“I’m glad we finally told them to kiss our asses. They suck. And hopefully some kids will show up too, so we can help warn them away from those jackasses.”

“Yeah. Hell, I would’ve appreciated knowing I had a choice. Besides, we’re way better. We’ll make them see that.”

Luke glances up - the guys talking can’t be older than early twenties, which confirms his suspicions. He turns and pretends to start mixing something, pulling out his phone to text Trish and Jessica.

_> >Pretty sure those Watchdog kids are having a party at the same time as Hydra. They mentioned trying to recruit kids too. _

_> >Shit. Guess I’ll post about that, then._

 

* * *

 

 ** _Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Alias,_ 11-April-2017

_Luke overheard some puppies in the bar. They got jealous and are having their own party, same time as Hydra’s. And talked about inviting teenagers to recruit them. Just FYI._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Thesmophoria,_ 11-April-2017

_Because things just couldn’t get any shittier! Ugh. Any ideas about how to counteract it yet?_

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Alias,_ 11-April-2017

_Was kinda hoping one of you’d think up something. I’m not much for ideas that don’t involve punching._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 11-April-2017

_Why don’t we throw our own damn party? Like, an anti-Nazi party. Maybe see if we can get the word out at the high school and stuff. If people wanna come hang out and play video games or whatever, they won’t check out Shitheads R Us._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _SunbeamBerry,_ 11-April-2017

_Could we have it at Knowhere, Nebula? That’s easy to find and free to use._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _FuckOff,_ 12-April-2017

_I’ll ask Gamora. Probably. Especially if it’s to piss off Nazis._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Mockingbird,_ 12-April-2017

_I’m guessing the other parties are banking on the underage booze factor, too. Which we should avoid doing, but in the least preachy way possible. As in, we just don’t have any. Or something._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Alias,_ 12-April-2017

_Dammit. You’re right though._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _FuckOff,_ 12-April-2017

_Gamora’s cool with it. Saturday night, right?_

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Alias,_ 12-April-2017

_Yup. Someone besides me wanna organize this?_

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _WendyDarling,_ 12-April-2017

_Kara and I are in, and I can coax baked goods out of Foggy._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 12-April-2017

_Jemma and Bobbi and I are in too!_

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _TheSplendid,_ 12-April-2017

_Talked to mine. We’ll help however you need us to, and we’ll get the word out around at my aunt’s school, too._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 12-April-2017

_If we still need another volunteer, I can help too._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _PrincessDoctor,_ 12-April-2017

_So if we’re putting together a teenager-safe anti-Nazi party there’s probably a few things we should consider._

  1. _Propriety: namely, don’t be too… raunchy. I’m not saying we can’t all do the usual level of demonstrativeness that we do with our people, because I think that’s very important, and will both help “normalize” supportive and affectionate behavior between partners (particularly queer ones) and go pretty well against what the Nazis buy into. The puppies too, from what I could tell. But curbing one’s most inappropriate impulses. We want to make a good impression on the kids, which we can do by showing them you don’t have to be an inappropriate jackass (all the time, anyway) to have fun. The no alcohol is a wise idea, and let’s do extend it to other intoxicating substances._
  2. _Propriety: namely, don’t hit on the teenagers. Not even the eighteen-year-olds. Not even the nineteen-year-olds. This goes for the boys and the girls and the whoever else shows up, because we don’t want them to think that (as the Nazis and the puppies potentially do do) we view them as a sexual commodity. Nebula, I expect you and your sister to be on Quill’s case all night, and Pepper, if you’d be on Tony’s, it would help._
  3. _We have to be good examples, but we also have to keep in mind that we can’t patronize them. No talking down, no belittling their ideas, and no remarks about their cuteness and innocence. Or if you slip up, apologize._
  4. _Also, please don’t try to act like Cool Moms or try to be “down with the kids.” Just treat them like people._
  5. _Orgaizationally, we should think of what all the party will entail. Video games, like Skye mentioned, are a good draw. Snacks too. Are there other activities that would be good?_



**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _Mockingbird,_ 12-April-2017

_Holy shit, you’re the cutest._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _ProfessionalStudent,_ 12-April-2017

_I have a good collection of board games. Old-fashioned, I know, but it’s an option._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _JupiterPhoenix,_ 12-April-2017

_Hey, Pandemic is great. We can set up a couple tables, give them options and stuff._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _TinMan,_ 12-April-2017

_Also we should probably like...not-so-subtly point out the Nazi recruitment tactics and how to avoid them._

**_Re: Nazi party_** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 12-April-2017

_Yes. That seems important._

 

* * *

“I brought the cake!” Foggy calls as he comes in.

“Ooh,” Karen exclaims, grinning. “Set it over on the table. You guys, you’re in for a treat.” She motions to where he should put it, then bursts out laughing once she gets a good look.

“What’s so funny?” Kara asks.

“Come check it out,” Karen says, waving her girlfriend over.

Kara approaches and immediately starts laughing as well.

“I thought of it while it was in the oven,” Foggy says proudly, “and I couldn’t resist.” The cake has DON’T BE A FASCIST written on it in icing.

Matt snorts. “He called me over, very proud of himself, once he was done writing it. Then I pointed out that I couldn’t see it and he smacked me on the shoulder.”

“You ruined my moment of triumph,” Foggy says, only pouting for a moment before grinning again. “I used a gluten free mix too, just in case.”

“That’s perfect,” Jemma says. Food and beverage have somewhat accidentally fallen under her purview, and she nods approvingly. “Depending on how many people show up, we might have to ration, but I think it’s an important offering.”

“Cool, I’ll make sure this one only gets one piece,” says Sam, nudging Bucky.

“Hey! Same goes for _you_ , I’ve seen you with cake before.” Bucky nudges him back, and they briefly engage in a playful shoving match for a minute or two.

“They’re lovable idiots,” Bobbi remarks, mostly to Natasha.

“Sometimes more idiot than loveable,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes fondly, “but yeah. It’s looking good.” She glances around the room, which has been set up with various areas like a refreshments table, a board game corner, and an area for dancing. The Koenigs are setting up the audio equipment.

Just then there’s a knock on the door, followed by an obviously teenaged brunette poking her head in. “Am I early?” she asks, glancing around with wide eyes. “My dad says I’m always too early for things like this.”

Jemma blinks and glances at Skye for a conclusive answer, and Skye shrugs and smiles. “I mean, we’re still setting up, but you can come have some snacks and sit down or whatever. I’m Skye.”

The girl smiles nervously. “Amy,” she says. “I, uh… I heard about this from Ms. Carter? Or, well, she had a flyer up, and some of us asked, and she said it would be cool, and… yeah.”

Sharon beelines over. “I’m Sharon,” she says. “Ms. Carter’s niece. I sort of doubt she described it as ‘cool,’ but I get what you mean. There’s board games, video games, possibly dancing a little later if anyone wants to, and we’re thinking of…”

“Starting conversations, or leading them, or guiding them,” Steve interjects. “I’m Steve. I was actually one of Ms. Carter’s students, back when.”

“Couldn’t have been that long back when,” Amy jokes, but then she blushes. “Do you, um. All of you, do you work at the mall? I heard this was sort of a mall-adjacent thing, like that candy run on Halloween.”

“Yep, that’s us.” Natasha gives her a wry smile. “Be happy to tell you all the gruesome details of that too, if you want.”

“Well, some of us don’t,” adds Foggy. “But most of them do, and the rest of us are friends with them. Anyway. Cake?” He points at it, grinning. “It’s homemade and gluten-free!”

“Sure,” Amy says. “What flavor?”

“Chocolate. I think people brought cookies and stuff from the store too, if that’s more your style.”

“Chocolate sounds good,” Amy agrees, flipping her braid over her shoulder and going to stock up on refreshments.

“Chocolate?” A girl who looks about twelve pokes her head in.

“Molly, c’mon, they’re not set up yet,” says a blonde girl behind her, putting her hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, no, c’mon in, don’t mind our mess.” Sam smiles. “We’ll be all ready to start in a couple minutes, you guys can hang out if you want.”

“I want cake too!” A floppy-haired blonde boy darts in, right behind Molly.

“Boys.” One of the girls in the group rolls her eyes at another.

“Anyway,” says a boy with an afro. “I’m Alex. This is Karolina, Xavin, Gert, Victor, Nico, and those two are Chase and Molly.” He nods at the other two, who are dishing up cake and grinning at each other. “Most of us are from William Morris. You’re Ms. Carter’s niece, right?” he asks Sharon. “I recognize you from the wedding.”

“Yeah,” Sharon says, “that’s me. Sharon. That means you’ll recognize all of my partners, too.” Steve and the others wave.

“ _All_ of your partners?” exclaims Amy, who’s sitting down eating her cake by the board game table. “Like, they’re all…”

“Yup.” Natasha winks. “That’s us. Big happy bisexual relationship pile. Me, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon.”

“Whoa,” Amy says.

“Hey guys!” Quill calls, walking in. “Oh damn, it looks great in here!”

“There’s cake,” Foggy says, both because he wants people to enjoy the cake and because he hopes maybe distracting Quill with food will keep him from hitting on girls for awhile.

“Ooh!” Quill makes a beeline for the cake.

Nebula, who’s sitting in the corner fiddling absently with her knife, rolls her eyes. “Here we go,” she mutters to Carina.

“Here we go, the party is starting, or here we go, time to monitor Quill’s bullshit?” Carina asks sweetly.

“Both, but I meant more Quill,” says Nebula with a snort.

Nico wanders over, looking a little uncertain. “I like your hair,” she says. “If that’s not weird to say.”

“It’s not,” Carina promises, smiling. “Is it, Nebula?” She has to prompt her wife to interact with people, she knows this.

Nebula shrugs. “Nah. Nice dress.” She gives Nico an appreciative smirk. “And highlights too.”

Nico looks pleased. “I just got it done. My folks were kinda pissed, but hey, it’s my head.”

“Damn right.” Nebula gives her a respectful nod.

“You work at Hot Topic, right?” Nico tilts her head at Carina. “I’m, uh, in there a lot.” She looks slightly embarrassed. “They have decent sales sometimes.”

“I do, yeah,” Carina agrees, still smiling. “Our sales are pretty good. I’m a little biased, but I think even though it’s kind of goofy it’s still one of the better places to go for some stuff, at least in town.”

Nico nods. “My parents don’t really get my whole...thing, so it’s nice to have a place where I can get stuff, even if it’s a little embarrassing.”

“Less embarrassing than having the same dumb shirt with a saying on it as like twelve other people,” Nebula points out. “Hey, you know about the tattoo place, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I tried sneaking in once but they took one look and sent me away.” Nico smirks. “Day after I’m eighteen though. Seriously.”

“Yeah, I work there sometimes. My sister owns the place. She’s probably the one who told you to scram.” Nebula rolls her eyes. “She’s pretty strict about the age thing. But c’mon in once you’re old enough, I can vouch for you to get the friends discount.”

“Oh, wow, thanks. I’m Nico, by the way.”

“Carina, and this is my wife Nebula,” says Carina, mostly just because she loves saying that.

“Aw.” Nico grins. “Congrats, or whatever.”

“Thanks.” Nebula gives her what’s almost a smile. “It’s, y’know, nice.”

 

* * *

 

“Not bad for a last-minute idea,” Jessica says, nodding at Bobbi and Skye.

“Yeah, it’s funny how the need to contradict bigots makes you pull a good party out of your asses,” Bobbi smirks. “Thanks for letting us know about this, by the way.”

“Sure.” Jessica nods at Luke. “He found the flyer originally.”

Luke shrugs. “Just didn’t want anybody to get hurt.”

“Still, we appreciate it,” Jemma says, leaning her head against Skye’s shoulder. “Turnout is better than I hoped, too, which is something.”

“Yeah, not bad. Especially for a non-booze party.”

“ _That’s_ something too, coming from you,” Trish murmurs, nudging her.

Meanwhile, Wanda’s talking with a few high schoolers, who seem genuinely interested in her psychology knowledge. “My brother has ADHD,” says one of the kids, Billy. “And I think my uncle does too, but he hasn’t been diagnosed. So it’s genetic?”

“It might be,” Wanda says. “The evidence isn’t entirely conclusive, but it seems to correlate for sure. My brother has ADHD too, and we’re both autistic, like I mentioned.”

Billy’s boyfriend Teddy tilts his head. “So how do you know if you’re depressed or anxious or whatever? My mom sometimes worries that I’m depressed but I don’t think I am.”

“Well, you have to be evaluated by a professional,” says Wanda quickly. “I couldn’t tell you, I’m not even done with my degree yet. They’ll give you a series of questionnaires and such and probably talk to you quite a bit about your feelings and experiences. Sometimes you just _know_ that your brain is different. It’s not necessarily the same for everyone.” She frowns, suddenly unsure that what she’s said is helpful.

But Teddy’s nodding. “Okay.”

Then America, who’s been mostly listening and fiddling with her phone, asks, “Hey, so I heard this party was basically meant to stick it to the shitty fascist gangs around here and we’d maybe get to talk about that.”

“Oh! Right, yes.” Wanda nods and glances over to where Steve and his partners are sitting at a small table nearby. “America was asking about the fascist gangs?” she calls to Steve. “I believe it is your turn.”

Steve nods. “Well, we’re not interested in lecturing anyone, so where should we start?” he asks the group, primarily the high schoolers.

“Hydra are Nazis, right?” asks a boy who’d introduced himself as Burnell.

Bucky nods. “They’ll try to pretty it up, but yeah, they’re shitty fascist Nazis. I’d know, I used to be one of them.”

Another girl wearing a purple tank top, Kate, narrows her eyes. “Yeah? That seems...suspicious.”

“It’s actually not,” Sharon says. “But it’s not mine to say.” She nods at Bucky.

“Long story, and not a happy one,” Bucky says. “But basically, they got me when I was in a pretty bad place, mentally, and convinced me that what I was doing with them was totally fine. That’s their MO. They want to feel like they’re the good guys, like what they’re doing is okay because they’re superior to everyone else.”

America makes a fist. “Yeah? Well, try that around me and they’ll get my fist up their ass.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bucky says, grinning. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“But they will go for the people they think are easy targets,” Natasha adds. “Kids, boys mostly, who feel ostracized or alone, who feel like they have a score to settle with the world or especially with anyone who’s different from them. Mostly white boys,” she says, rolling her eyes, “but one of our friends got sucked in and she’s Sri Lankan, so.” She nods at where Kara and Karen are standing, close together.

Kara clears her throat and waves. “I wasn’t really in the gang,” she says, “and hell, I didn’t even know much about what the gang was doing. But one of the guys seduced me, basically, and manipulated me into thinking there was nothing wrong with him. I’m sure that in time, he would have tried to convert me, but he…” She pauses to think of the best way to say this and Karen squeezes her hand. “First he had to convince me that _he_ wasn’t a monster. I have some weaknesses that are pretty easy to prey on -” she indicates her scar - “and he used that, among other things, to pull me in. Make me feel like everyone else thought I was worthless and I was lucky to have him.”

“Like Nat said, Hydra mostly goes after boys, at least for full membership,” Bobbi adds, “but what they do to girls isn’t that much different, in terms of technique. Everything Kara just said about what that fucker did to get her to think she loved him could apply to the gang trying to get someone, boy or girl, to love them, love _it_. Either they go in for the kids like Nat said or they go in for the ones like Kara said. The so-called ostracized and angry or the vulnerable.” She shoots Kara a smile to show she doesn’t mean that in a bad way.

“Also,” Skye chimes in, “if they try to go after a girl, it’s probably either by hitting on them or negging them. Do you guys know what negging is? Do the kids still say that?” There’s a mixture of reactions and she groans, “Jesus, I feel old. Anyway, so basically they’ll say something that’s like, kind of an insult and that will make you feel like you have to prove them wrong or get their approval. Like ‘you’re pretty, for a chubby girl’ or ‘That shirt would be great on you if it was a different color.’ Basically it’s supposed to throw you off your guard and make you want to talk to them more because you feel like you can prove them you’re _not_ whatever insult they just threw at you. It’s super insidious and gross. Oh, and they weirdly seem to like non-white girls? At least, the shithead who hurt Kara was obsessed with me for a couple months too. Y’know, it’s a pattern.” She shrugs.

Kate narrows her eyes. “Great. I didn’t get enough weird yellow fever bullshit already, that’s awesome.”

“They’re also, as a rule, not shy about menacing,” Jemma adds. “Subtly, where you can’t _quite_ tell if it’s anything to worry about but it doesn’t feel right, all the way up to overtly, where they follow you into the parking garage and threaten you. If you don’t play along with their nonsense, anything can be an excuse to go off on you.” She shudders a little, just thinking about it.

Billy wrinkles his nose. “How do the police not catch them? I mean, I know, police are iffy, but…”

“There’s a couple of cops who aren’t bullshit, but a lot of them are either Hydra themselves or friends with Hydra guys.” Jessica rolls her eyes. “Clemens and Mahoney are okay, but a lot of them are paid off or whatever.”

“It’s unfortunate,” adds Misty, “but a lot of law enforcement is gonna be like that, and I’m saying that as someone who actually wants to be a cop. You have to be careful who you trust just like with anyone.”

“I heard someone in class mention a group called the Watchdogs last week,” Teddy says. “Are they Nazis too?”

“We’re not totally sure,” Sam says, “but they’re made up of some of the kids who didn’t want to join Hydra, but _only_ because it involved killing a dog. So they made up their own super cool bigot gang instead.” He rolls his eyes.

“They might not be Nazis, but they’re not anything good,” Karen declares. “And their recruitment, so far, has been vaguer and more widespread. A bunch of us went to another one of their parties a little while back, and it’s the same sort of crowd, but they’re not talking politics straightaway. They just want to lure people - younger people, younger than Hydra even, probably - into their super fun club and then surprise them with bigotry.”

Teddy makes a face. “Oh. Great.”

“Basically, have your friends’ backs, and if something doesn’t feel right to you, get out of the situation as soon as you can,” says Bucky. “It sucks that we have to warn you guys about this at all, but here we are.”

Burnell frowns. “How would you recommend getting out of the situation?” he asks. “That goes for the kids getting targeted for recruitment _and_ for abuse.”

“Don’t start a fight if you don’t have to,” Bucky says. When Natasha snorts, he adds quickly, “I mean, we fight them all the time, but like. You guys, if you don’t have self-defense training or whatever, don’t get in over your heads. The idea is to get away from them, not beat them up. Use any excuse you can, your mom needs you, you have a curfew, whatever. Always have some way to get home in an emergency: bus money, a friend’s number, something. If you feel like they’re targeting you, you might wanna hang around one of your scarier friends for awhile till they back off. These guys are persistent, but they like easy targets better than having to work for it.”

“You keep saying ‘easy targets,’” Billy says, biting his lip. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, they’re Nazis,” says Natasha with a snort. “They kind of want someone who fits that mold to join them. And if you don’t fit, and it seems like you’ll be fun to mess with...well, they’ll probably try something. If you’re not white, if you’re not straight or gender conforming, if you’re disabled or different in some other way from them, they consider you a threat.”

“They damn well should,” says America.

Kate nudges America’s shoulder with her own affectionately. “Yeah, I think if they mess with either one of us, they’re gonna regret it.”

“I’m going to give you guys my phone number,” Steve says. “You guys don’t need someone to fight your battles for you, I can tell, but if you ever need a little backup or an exit strategy.”

“Thanks,” Burnell says, smirking. “You guys are all right.”

“We try,” Sharon chuckles. “For me, it’s like - I can pass. I know that.” She shakes her head. “Amendment, I can pass hypothetically. Most of the Hydra guys are pretty well aware of us by now, but if one of them wasn’t, if I was just out by myself I wouldn’t seem like a threat. But it’s because of that that I want to help people who might not get off so easy. Occasionally that takes a dramatic turn, but it’s important.” She gives Natasha’s shoulder a fond bump.

“Cool,” Teddy says. “I kinda feel like that too.” He shrugs. “I mean, everybody knows I’m gay, but they don’t mess with me ‘cause I’m so...y’know.” He gestures vaguely to his muscles.

Billy beams at him. “It’s badass,” he says proudly, leaning against Teddy. “He’s stopped more than one asshole bully.”

Sam grins. “Good. I think you guys are gonna be okay.”

 

* * *

 

The party is winding down, games getting finished up and people slowly starting to trickle out. Misty’s sitting by herself, reading something on her phone and smiling at nothing because as corny as it sounds it’s things like this party that do her heart some good, when a woman she doesn’t recognize comes over. “Hey,” she says. “You’re part of security at Central, right?”

“Yeah, part-time anyway,” Misty replies, nodding. “I’m guessing you go there too?”

“Yeah. I’m Colleen, no major yet.” The woman shrugs. “Anyway, I’m not sure if this is a weird question but I was thinking of starting some kind of like, unofficial self-defense class on campus. I thought I’d run it by you, since that’s sort of what you do.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Misty says. “Considering all this shit we deal with especially.”

“Cool.” Colleen hesitates before adding, “Also, sorry, I’m not actually sure I know your name, I just recognize you from seeing you around.”

“Misty,” says Misty. “I’m still kinda new here, I guess. You?”

“New enough,” replies Colleen, shrugging. “I transferred in last semester, after I got tired of being recognized as ‘Professor Wing’s daughter.’ He’s like, a famous Asian studies guy, he’s kind of a rock star so we got a super discount at my old school, but it got to be too much, y’know?”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Misty agrees, although it’s something she doesn’t have much context for. “You like it here so far?”

Colleen nods. “Yeah, aside from, y’know, the Nazi gang problem it’s not bad. I don’t have a lot of friends though. Gotta work on that, I guess.” She shrugs again. “You?”

“One of the guys I grew up with just so happened to have moved out here with his girlfriends, so I had a little cheat on the friends front,” Misty says. “Never hurts to have more, though.”

“Yeah, totally.” Colleen smiles at her. “I don’t suppose _you’d_ be interested in a self-defense class? I mean, you probably already know that stuff, but still.”

“Depends,” Misty says, nodding for Colleen to take a seat. “What stuff were you thinking about teaching?”

“Karate, mostly. It’s a total cliche, I know, but my dad wanted me to know about both his culture and mom’s.” Colleen rolls her eyes fondly. “He’s Chinese, Mom is Japanese. So my grandfather taught me martial arts and my dad handled a lot of the legends and language stuff. I was thinking about having my own dojo eventually, maybe.”

“That’s really cool,” Misty says, and she means it. “I don’t know a lot of karate stuff, I’ll come and see what it’s about.”

“Cool. And hey, maybe you can teach whoever shows up some of the techniques you know. If you want.”

“They’re not exactly fancy or traditional,” Misty replies, smirking, “but I’d love to.”

“Cool,” echoes Colleen. “D’you want my number? For whenever I get this off the ground, I mean.” Then she smirks. “Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Misty repeats.


	143. trying to find the morning, hell, I'd settle for the other side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to anti-Semitic bullying, Wanda helps organize a fundraiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came about due to the Secret Empire bullshit that's currently going on in the comics, because that is terrible and we do not truck with Nazis.

“Yes.” Pietro sips his drink. “There’s a bunch of them in there. The kitchen ladies don’t mind if we take them.”

“Pietro, they have coffee and iced tea,” says Wanda. “You’re not meant to have Coke after services.”

“Why not?” he shrugs. “I don’t like coffee _or_ tea.”

“There are variants I’m sure you haven’t tried,” Ana interjects, smiling smugly, “but that’s fine. Not everyone does.”

“See?” Pietro teases.

Wanda laughs. “I suppose. Hi, Ana, how have you been?”

“Alright,” Ana says. “Nothing dramatic has happened at school, and really, we’re very boring aside from that.” She squeezes her husband’s hand.

Jarvis smirks and says, “I won’t deny it. How about the two of you?”

“I have three projects due over the next two weeks,” sighs Wanda. “And two regular finals. It’s ridiculous.”

“Oh dear,” says Jarvis. “At least it’s almost over?”

“I know, but right now it feels like it will go on forever.”

“I get a lot of coffee for her,” Pietro says, grinning. “Probably too much.”

“Probably, but it does help,” replies Wanda fondly.

She’s about to say more when there’s a cough behind her. She turns to see a teenage boy she recognizes from the party - Blade? Sage? Chase? he was named something that almost wasn’t a name - standing there looking nervous. “Uh, Wanda, right?”

“Yes,” she says. “And you’re Chase? Did you need something?”

“Kind of.” He looks embarrassed. “It’s just, uh, you were at the big party where they talked about Hydra and stuff, right? And that Steve guy said we could call him if we ran into trouble, and I was gonna but since you’re here, well…”

“What happened?”

Chase sighs. “So, some assholes fucked with my car and painted a bunch of like, gross shit all over it. I don’t know if it was Hydra or the Watchdogs or what, but it’s swastikas and worse. I don’t know what to do. My dad didn’t even want me to have the car, so he won’t lend me money to buy paint or anything. Mom just rolls over and agrees with everything he says, and I barely make fifty bucks a week at my job...I was wondering if maybe you guys would know of a way to help.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

“Oh, dear,” Ana says, frowning. Mostly out of respect for the fact that technically he is a student at the school where she’s employed, she doesn’t reach to pat him consolingly, but the others can probably guess that she wants to. “Where was the car when this happened?”

“In one of the far lots. I guess that’s how they got away with it without anybody seeing.” Chase shrugs. “It’s kind of a shitty car, I guess, but it’s...mine.”

“What were you thinking?” Wanda asks. Her tone is steady, but she’s clenching her fist tightly. “Do you want us to help you fix the car, or catch them, or…?”

“Honestly, if you guys had any ideas of how to raise the money, that’s all I really need.” Chase laughs. “I mean, I’m sure not going to the cops, after what you guys said.”

“Maybe we could sell things,” suggests Pietro. “Cookies. People will buy cookies.”

“It’s certainly worth a shot,” agrees Jarvis. “But I think we’d need a permit to do anything on school property, and if you think it might have been other students...it might just escalate matters anyhow.”

“I can talk to people,” Wanda says. “Perhaps in front of the tattoo shop, or somewhere nearby. We definitely want to help,” she adds to Chase. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “Could be worse, I guess. I’m like, on the football team and stuff, so nobody’ll mess with me to my face. Probably.”

“Still,” Ana says, “that they would mess with you at all is appalling.”

 

* * *

 

**_More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 21-April-2017

_Tonight at services, Chase Stein (he was at the party) told us someone vandalized his car while he was at school. Swastikas, and I can imagine what else. His parents won’t help pay to fix it, so he came to us for help. Pietro suggested a bake sale to raise money, but we’re not sure where to hold it._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _SunbeamBerry,_ 21-April-2017

_I hate his parents. Nebula?_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _FuckOff,_ 21-April-2017

_Uh, I hate them too. They sound like fuckheads. And?_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _SunbeamBerry,_ 21-April-2017

_Knowhere. It’s a central location but since I only married into the family that owns it…_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _FuckOff,_ 21-April-2017

_Oh. Right. Uh, hang on. Yeah, Gamora says it’s cool. She also says if the kid wants to come crash with us, he’s welcome._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 22-April-2017

_I’ll pass the message along. Thank you. Does anyone know how to, um, bake?_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _Asha,_ 22-April-2017

_No, but I know how to work up business. Consider me the PR team._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _BoyScout,_ 22-April-2017

_We’ll help. And I’d be willing to host Chase too, if he’d rather stay over with a guy._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _LikeAGirl,_ 22-April-2017

_I can ask Volstagg. I’m sure he’d be willing to help somehow._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _littlehope,_ 22-April-2017

_I had a pretty successful lemonade stand as a kid. I could help that way?_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 22-April-2017

_Thank you. Anything would help, I think. Nebula, can I text you about dates and times and such?_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _FuckOff,_ 22-April-2017

_Sure. Whatever. Are we gonna go after the bastards who did this, or no?_

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _InYourHead,_ 22-April-2017

_Chase didn’t seem to think that would help anything. I think he just wants everything back to normal as quickly as possible._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _EnPointe,_ 22-April-2017

_Damn. Sure sounds fun._

**_Re: More anti-Semitism from our cephalopod friends_** _•_ By _Falcon25,_ 22-April-2017

_I can bring stuff! Just lemme know when._

 

* * *

 

When Darcy shows up, most of the other bake sale staff are already present. “Good, a big audience,” she says. “Question: is this too much?” She’s referring, unsurprisingly, to the fact that her sweater is currently unbuttoned to a degree that… well, she wouldn’t go to synagogue like that, anyway.

Wanda looks up and blinks. “Why would it be too much?”

“I just wasn’t sure if it was cool to use my womanly wiles to attract attention for a bake sale with such a specific purpose,” Darcy shrugs.

Pietro grins. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“‘Course not, perv,” Darcy singsongs, but she’s not mad. She peels off to figure out the best place to get people’s attention.

Meanwhile, Hope is dragging what looks like a water cooler’s worth of lemonade up, grimacing slightly. “Do you guys have a fridge I can keep some of this in?” she asks Nebula. “Don’t want it all sitting out at once.”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Nebula gestures for Hope to follow her inside Knowhere. The shop is open, since it’s Sunday afternoon, but Gamora and Drax only have a few clients booked between them, so it’s not exactly crowded in there.

“Thank you so much.” Hope waves at Wanda as she trails after Nebula, looking only a little wide-eyed with something between bewilderment and enthusiasm.

“Hello!” Ana exclaims, strolling up. “We brought some things.”

“ _I_ brought some things,” Jarvis interjects fondly. “You offered support.” He winks at Wanda and Pietro.

“Well, we did want the goods to be salable,” Ana replies, shrugging cheerfully. “Have we opened officially?”

“Almost,” says Wanda. “Still waiting on Volstagg to show up, and Hope’s getting the lemonade set up.” She nods at where the rest of the baked goods have been arranged on several tables. “Oh, and Chase and his friends is still coming. Apparently they’ve had some kind of transportation issue. So far we’re looking good, though.”

“It certainly is!” interjects Thor, who’s just arrived with Jane in tow.

“Where should the adults go?” Jane asks, motioning between her and Thor and Jarvis and Ana.

“I suppose in the second row of chairs?” Wanda shrugs. “Just to act as backup, mostly. It might be boring,” she adds apologetically.

“Nonsense,” says Jarvis. “We’re happy to be here as support.”

There’s a loud honk, and a minivan pulls into a nearby parking space. Nico and Chase climb out of the front seat, with Gert, Victor, Alex, Karolina, and Xavin close behind them. “Holy shit!” Chase says. “This is so much... _stuff!_ ”

“This isn’t even all of it!” says Pietro. “Volstagg is still coming. He bakes professionally so his cookies are amazing.”

“Oh, is that the guy at the cookie place in the mall?” Karolina asks. “He makes the _best_ snickerdoodles!”

“Yes,” says Wanda, smiling. “Oh, that might be him.”

Sure enough, Volstagg and Hogun emerge from the second minivan holding plates stacked high with cookies. “I hope we’ve brought enough,” Volstagg says, laughing. “Gudrun says she’s never seen me bake so fast in my life!”

“It’s really appreciated,” Jane nods. “Thanks for doing that much on short notice.”

“Of course!” Volstagg turns to the group. “Which of you is Chase?”

They all turn to look at Chase, who waves almost sheepishly.

“My youngest, Hildy, drew you this picture,” Volstagg says, handing him a folded piece of paper. “She thought it might cheer you up.”

“Oh, uh, tell her thank you,” Chase says, grinning. “I dunno what it’s supposed to be, but that’s nice.”

“I believe she said it was a unicorn-bear,” says Volstagg with a shrug as he and Hogun arrange the plates on the table. “She has quite the imagination.”

“Cute,” Gert says with a smirk.

“So what exactly is the plan here?” asks Nico. “Are we just gonna like, coax random people over and try to make them buy cookies? Or what?”

“Basically,” Darcy calls. “But this selection of cookies kicks ass, so it’ll work for sure.”

“Do we know how much we’re trying to raise?” Jane asks. “Approximately.”

“Um, I think it’ll be about a thousand for everything,” Chase says. “But I’m definitely not expecting to earn all that just with this. Honestly, anything helps.” He smiles. “It means a lot that you guys want to help, y’know?”

Gert squeezes his hand. “Yeah, thank you,” she adds. “Mr. Stein is…” She makes a face and doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Of course,” says Wanda. “We’re happy to help.”

“What’s that about shitty dads?” calls Bucky, wandering over with the rest of his group in tow. “I know the feeling, kid.”

“Oh, you’re that guy who used to be Hydra, right?” Chase asks. He sounds a little wary, but he adds, “Good to have you. I think.”

“That’s me,” says Bucky cheerfully.

“You doing okay?” Steve asks Chase. “Nobody’s followed up on…?”

Chase shakes his head. “Nah. I get dirty looks in the halls sometimes, but I never know if it’s ‘cause I’m popular or what. I can take care of myself though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve says.

“Hey! You!” Darcy yells. She’s standing on top of a chair waving her arms to signal passersby and she looks pretty enthused about this. “Buy some cookies for a cause?”

The first few people give half-smiles and keep walking, but then a woman steps out of Knowhere with a curious expression. “I heard cookies,” she says.

“Yes! Cookies!” Darcy exclaims. “And cake, and other baked goods. Right over this way!” She very dramatically winds up and points toward the tables.

“My girlfriend also made lemonade, if you’d like some of that,” adds Wanda, beaming over at Hope.

“Damn,” says the woman. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Hope smiles sweetly. “Lemonade,” she says, motioning to her table. “While you consider the options.”

“Good sales pitch,” the woman chuckles, but she accepts and pays for some lemonade while she looks the tables over.

“It’s for a good cause,” Natasha chimes in. “Proceeds go to help Chase there fix up his car after he got targeted by anti-Semitic bullies.” She nods at Chase, who looks slightly embarrassed.

“Aw, shit,” the woman says. “Sorry, Chase. Who’s got some classic chocolate chip something?”

“I do!” says Jarvis. “I have regular and gluten free options, whichever you prefer.”

She opts for the regular and pays with a generous tip before heading off, and as she’s leaving Vanessa strolls up, eyebrow raised appreciatively. “A fine spread,” she says, nodding to Chase since she recognizes him from the synagogue.

“Oh, hi!” Chase says. “Yeah, it’s really something.”

“D’you wanna buy something?” Gert asks, eyeing Vanessa - who is wearing a black dress better suited for a cocktail party than a bake sale - warily.

For her part, Vanessa smiles indulgently, pulls out her wallet, hands a fifty-dollar bill to the nearest person, and takes exactly one pink macaron off a front table before she heads out.

Victor’s eyes almost bug out of his head. “Um,” he says. “Who was _that_?”

“Vanessa,” Jane says. “She works at the mall and shows up at services occasionally. I’m guessing she heard about this through the mall grapevine though?”

“That would make sense,” agrees Hope.

“She’s super cool,” adds Darcy. “Also possibly a vampire, except she’s out in the daytime so nobody really knows anymore.”

They continue, with varying levels of success (and a round of pizzas ordered by Gamora and Drax around dinnertime), until finally it begins to get dark enough that Jarvis says, “Perhaps we’d best call it a day. I think we’ve done fairly well for ourselves.”

“Yes,” Wanda agrees. There are a few plates with various cookies still on them, but they’ve sold most of what everyone brought.

“Thanks so much, you guys,” Chase says. “I really, really appreciate it. I mean, this is crazy.”

Bucky shrugs. “This is just kinda what we’re like,” he says. “We’ll either find a way to solve your problem, or punch Nazis until it’s solved.”


	144. this is so you'll know the sound of someone who loves you from the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey takes Bob Barker to the dog park.

“I feel like I’m taking my kid to the first day of school,” jokes Rhodey as Bob stops to sniff a particularly interesting patch of grass.

“Luckily, there are no grades at the dog park,” Sharon quips. She’s not currently holding anyone’s leash, so she’s walking a few steps ahead of the others.

“God, Callie would be a terror as an actual human child,” jokes Bucky. The dog in question is on a long leash, but still straining towards a squirrel that’s taunting her from a nearby fence.

“But you’d love her anyway,” says Steve.

“I would,” says Bucky with a shrug, giving the leash a tug to remind Callie that they have places to be.

Sam and Natasha, who have Artemis and Apollo lumbering along beside them, turn to each other and snicker. “So how’ve you been, Pepper?” asks Natasha, smirking. “Now that you kinda-sorta have a dog.”

Pepper, who looks just a little too fancy for the dog park, rolls her eyes playfully. “Well, he does make the mundane days a little brighter,” she says. “Is that what you were expecting?”

“Sure,” replies Natasha. “You guys must be spending a lot of time together.”

“And I get regular photo updates,” Pepper says, a little warning in her tone.

“Good.” Natasha’s tone gives nothing away. She doesn’t ask any more questions, and after a few minutes they arrive at the dog park.

Bucky unclips Callie’s leash, and she immediately goes tearing off to greet another dog. “Go ahead,” he nods to Natasha and Sam, who do likewise. Artemis and Apollo amble off together, sniffing around.

“So I just let him go do whatever?” Rhodey asks, looking doubtful.

“You don’t have to right away. You can walk him around, meet some other dogs first.” Bucky grins. “He’ll probably be fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep him close for now, since he’s new.”

“Do you know how much his old family socialized him?” Sharon asks.

“Not really. They kind of had to leave in a hurry. Joseph said he’d been to friends’ houses who had other dogs, but I’m not sure they ever took him anywhere like this.” Rhodey frowns. “That’s not bad, right?”

“Probably not,” says Bucky with a shrug. “I mean, keep an eye on him when he meets new dogs, but if they never mentioned a problem I don’t think there is one.”

“You’re like a new dad,” Pepper says (not for the first time). “It’s cute.”

Natasha snorts and elbows Sam, who is also smirking. “Pretty sure it’s a lot harder to fuck up a dog than a baby,” Sam points out. “I mean, as long as you’re trying and stuff.”

“Probably, but...y’know,” says Rhodey. “Oh hey, is that Clint?”

“Yeah, and Lucky,” says Natasha. “Let’s go say hi.”

When they get closer, Lucky trots right up to Bob, tail waving, and the two dogs exchange greetings. Clint waves. “This the new little guy?” he asks, leaning down to offer Bob his hand to sniff.

“That’s him,” says Rhodey proudly. “First time out here.”

“Nice. Well, don’t let him pick up bad habits from this asshole,” says Clint fondly, pointing at his own dog. “This one steals food. Especially pizza. I can’t leave anything out while he’s there.”

“Or maybe he could learn good habits, like fighting Nazis,” Natasha points out with a smirk.

“He’s not getting anywhere near Nazis,” says Rhodey, rolling his eyes.

Natasha shrugs. “Still.”

“Congratulations to you and Laura,” Pepper says, very obviously changing the subject. “That must be a lot to handle at once.”

“Oh, yeah, congrats!” adds Rhodey. “You guys’ll be great.”

“Thanks. We’re figuring stuff out. Kinda working on finding a new place right now, ‘cause her place is too small for both of us and she refuses to live in mine.” Clint chuckles. “Which, she’s probably right.”

Pepper nods. “That’s very practical,” she agrees, because she knows she’s something of an authority on practicality.

“Yeah, so let me know if you guys get any leads on available places.” Clint glances over to where Bob and Lucky are now chasing each other around. “Oh, good, they’re friends. I mean, Lucky’s always pretty chill with other dogs.”

Bob’s still on his leash, so Rhodey gives him a few more feet of it so he can play better. “Just taking him around to meet some friends before I let him loose,” he says with a shrug.

“Oh, good idea,” nods Clint. “This one, I shouldn’t ever let off the leash but I do anyway, isn’t that right, doofus?” Lucky looks up at him for a second, tail wagging, before going back to playing with Bob.

After a few minutes with Lucky, both dogs wander away to meet other dogs, and Rhodey spots Kara and Autumn nearby. “Hey!” he calls, waving. “How you doing, stranger?”

Kara grins and nods him over, arms out for a hug. “Really, really good,” she says. “I heard about your new little guy here. Welcome to the club.”

Rhodey hugs her, smiling. “Yup, this is him,” he says, nodding at Bob. “He’s sweet. How are you guys, how’s Karen?”

“Good, she’s good,” Kara says, blushing just a little. “We’ve been kind of talking about, about maybe figuring out a way to get Irani to let us make some of the safe mall stuff actual policy. Seems important, considering… everything.” She makes a face.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a really good idea. Lemme know if you need like, backup or support or anything for that. I’m sure we could get people on board with a petition or something.”

“Thanks,” she grins. “I don’t think it’s going to be hard to get her to agree, but implementation… might be interesting.” Autumn, who’s been wandering around nearby exploring, comes over to greet Rhodey and Bob, clearly excited to see them, and Kara kneels down to make a mock-formal introduction. “Autumn, this is Bob Barker. Bob, meet Autumn.”

Bob, whose stub tail was already wagging, trots over to Autumn and introduces himself, and Autumn does likewise. It’s pretty comical since she’s at least three times his size, but neither really seems to mind.

“Hey, Kara,” Pepper says, coming over. She figured on giving the two of them a chance to catch up, but since they’ve clearly moved into dog-introduction she figures she’s in the clear.

Kara blinks, a little surprised. Not bad surprised, just… surprised. “Hey, Pepper,” she says. “I’m guessing you’re also part of the Bob Barker fan club?”

“Yeah,” Pepper chuckles. “I dogsat right after he appeared and he kinda latched onto me, I guess.” She looks at Rhodey for elaboration, if there is any to be had.

Rhodey shrugs. “Yeah, that’s about it. He likes everyone, but he seems to like her and me best, so she’s been hanging around a lot.” He grins and adds, “Not exactly a problem.”

“I think Tony’s jealous,” Pepper confides, smirking.

“Tony’ll get over himself,” Rhodey says, rolling his eyes.

“That seems to be something he needs to do,” Kara remarks. “I mean, I don’t really know him that well, but he’s… a very specific kind of guy, isn’t he?”

“Let me guess,” Natasha says, wandering over. “We’re talking about Tony?”

Rhodey grins. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Hey, Kara,” Steve says, waving. “Glad to see you here!”

“This is pretty much a weekend ritual now that the weather isn’t horrible,” Kara says. “Autumn doesn’t whine about being stuck inside too much, but this is definitely better.”

“Seriously,” adds Bucky, laughing. “Yours isn’t even half the trouble my monsters are.” He looks fondly over at Artemis, who is trotting after a dog about half her size. “Winter’s always a fun exercise in ‘how much stuff in my house will survive a bored Callie.’”

Pepper laughs. “How much _doesn’t_ , typically?” she asks.

“We’re lucky with sixty percent,” says Bucky, grinning. “And that’s _after_ learned to put stuff on high shelves. But I love her anyway,” he says, as she lopes over for scritches. “Isn’t that right, you little terror?”

Sam nudges Sharon and whispers, “Well, at least we know he’ll be a good dad. No guarantees about me.”

Sharon rolls her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, but we have a _long_ way to go before that’s a concern.”

“Anyway,” Bucky says to Rhodey. “We can keep going and meet more dogs if you want?”

“Sure, yeah.” Rhodey smiles at Kara. “Nice seeing you. We should like, hang out sometime and let the dogs play together.”

“That’d be really nice,” Kara agrees. “Text me later and we can figure it out, okay?”

“‘Course. You guys have fun.” Rhodey leans down to give Autumn a last scritch on the chin. She licks his face fondly.

The next people they run into are Ana and Jarvis, whose dog Blaze is zipping around after the ball Jarvis is obligingly throwing. “Hello!” Ana calls, waving. “I see we have a new addition?”

Pepper nods. “This is Bob Barker, and technically he’s Rhodey’s now,” she says.

“Tony must be losing his mind with jealousy,” Ana chuckles.

“I mean, he bought all these fancy dog toys that use wifi or whatever so I think he’s trying to buy Bob’s love too,” says Rhodey, smirking. “But I don’t know if he’s super thrilled, yeah. And Pepper’s been over a lot, so.”

“He’s got lovely coloring,” says Jarvis, kneeling down to offer his hand for Bob to sniff. “Where did you get him?”

“My coworker had to move in a hurry and I was sort of a last resort. I was kinda just supposed to hang onto him until we found him another home, but, uh, that didn’t work out so well.” Rhodey grins. “I got kinda fond of him.”

“He’s very endearing,” Ana says. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to let him go.”

“He’s not exactly shy either,” Pepper smirks. “Doesn’t waste time making friends.” To wit, Bob is currently sniffing around Blaze, apparently unbothered by the fact that Blaze is at least two times his size.

Jarvis chuckles. “Well, Blaze isn’t unused to smaller dogs at least.” Sure enough, Blaze’s tail is wagging and he drops into a play bow.

“Looks to me like most dogs _are_ smaller, where Blaze is concerned,” Pepper jokes.

“Oh, certainly. Though he still thinks he’s half the size he is, I think.”

“How old is he?” Pepper asks.

“About a year,” replies Jarvis. “And nowhere near done growing, according to the vet.”

Bucky snorts. “Oh, you guys are in for some fun. How many pieces of furniture has he knocked over?”

“Oh, two or three,” Ana says cheerfully. “None of them have been broken, though.”

“Lucky. You learn to buy sturdy shit pretty quickly,” Bucky replies with a grin. “He seems sweet though.”

“We’re quite fond, yes,” says Jarvis.

“Oh my god,” says Sam, pulling out his phone. “Pretty sure Bob decided to use Blaze as a taxi.”

Sure enough, Bob seems to have parked himself on Blaze’s back, and Blaze is trotting around happy as can be. “Well, that’s fucking adorable,” Natasha says.

“Where did he even get that idea?” Sharon asks, laughing.

“Don’t look at me,” says Rhodey, who is taking a million pictures.

“Oh, it’s super charming,” Sharon says. “Just, incredibly ridiculous too.”

“Well, Blaze doesn’t seem to mind it, so I suppose he’s alright.” Jarvis shrugs and adds, “I’m not sure he’d even feel him up there, he’s so much smaller.”

“Oh my god!” says somebody who turns out to be Angie, who runs over. She’s also got her phone out and is taking a million pictures of Blaze and Bob. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Peggy follows. “Utterly precious,” she says. “I’m glad we’re all making friends.”

“Oh, hey!” Rhodey waves. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you,” Peggy says, grinning. “Not all that much has changed, being honest, but that’s because it was already wonderful.” She smirks at Angie.

“Aw, Peg!” Angie kisses her on the cheek. “But yeah, our girl’s just over there. Cody! Cody!” She whistles, and Cody comes trotting over.

“Aw, hey there,” Pepper hums, letting Cody sniff her. To Peggy and Angie she says, “You’ve already seen the new kid.”

“Yes, and he’s adorable!” Angie grins. “I’m guessing that’s going well?”

Rhodey nods. “Yep, he seems pretty happy here. How about you guys? You have a good honeymoon?”

“Oh yes! I have pictures!” Angie offers, looking eager.

“Far more than she could probably show you in one sitting,” Peggy says, “but they’re very nice.” She nods encouragingly.

“It was seeing your family, right?” Pepper asks Angie.

“Yep! They’re over in Florence and we stayed with them for a couple days. Gorgeous place, and my family are great if kinda loud.” Angie grins. “And Peg got to go to a lot of museums, so she was happy.”

“That’s not all I was happy about,” Peggy points out, smiling smugly. “It’s a beautiful city.” And beautiful company, that look implies.

Angie giggles. “Sure, ‘course. And she was so happy to see us, weren’t you?” she coos, scratching Cody’s back. Cody waves her tail happily and then ambles over to play with Blaze and Bob (the latter of whom has tumbled off Blaze’s back by now, but seems none the worse for wear).

Rhodey grins and says, “I’m glad everybody’s getting along. Makes it easy.”

“See, I told you he’d be fine,” says Bucky.


	145. I used to believe that the storybook's true, now I don't need it, at least not with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone unexpected shows up in Quill's life!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild Guardians 2 spoilers, mostly stuff that's in trailers, but if you're avoiding everything just be aware.
> 
> The name "Xander Ego" was inspired by the alias Xandar-Nu, which Ego uses sometimes in the comics.

“Nice establishment you have here, son.”

Quill looks up to see a bearded man with a warm smile staring at him from the doorway. “Uh, thanks!” he says, grinning. “I’m pretty happy with it, if I do say so myself. Can I help you find something, is there a specific kind of board you’re looking for?”

“Well, I’m actually looking for something quite a bit more personal.” The guy steps inside and comes over to the counter. “I have something important to discuss with you, Peter.”

Quill blinks. “Wait, how’d you know my name? I mean, I guess maybe you could’ve looked it up, but most people don’t bother ‘cause they already know who I am around here. Wait, are you here about the the Deal or No Deal tape? ‘Cause I mean, I got the names mixed up in my head when I was filming it and fish are kind of expensive so I didn’t wanna buy another one even though I said the wrong show name, but I can make another one for you if you want-”

The guy laughs. “No, no, I’m not here about that. I’m not really sure how to say this, Peter...I’m your father.”

“Wait, _what_?” Quill’s mouth falls open. “ _You’re_ my dad?”

“I thought my rugged good looks would give it away,” says the guy with a shrug. “My name is Xander Ego. I’m a businessman, the CEO of Ego Inc. I came to find you because you, Peter, are the person I want to follow in my footsteps.”

Quill is so shell-shocked that all he can do is narrow his eyes and say, “Who’s that behind you?”

A young Korean woman wearing a big black hairbow that kind of looks like a bat pops out, waving enthusiastically. “Hello!” she says. “I’m Mantis!”

“Hi?” Quill says. “That didn’t answer any of my questions.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of them,” says Xander. “We have a lot to discuss. Would you consider coming to lunch with us?”

Quill narrows his eyes, then slowly nods. “Hell, it’s about time for my lunch break anyway.” He pauses the music currently playing over the store’s speakers (a Fleetwood Mac album) and pokes his head through the open connecting door to Knowhere. “Hey, guys, I’m stepping out for lunch. Watch the shop for me?”

“Of course!” Drax says, nodding vigorously. “I will look at nothing else until you return!”

 

* * *

 

“Where the hell is he?” Gamora asks, peeking into Quill’s Boards with a frown. “It’s been two hours. He’s lucky it’s Wednesday.”

“He went with someone,” says Drax with a frown. “Do you think they got into an accident or some other trouble?”

“He’s probably just fucking around,” sighs Nebula. “Idiot.”

“I’ll text him,” Gamora mutters, pulling out her phone.

Two minutes after she’s sent it, Quill ambles in from his store, followed by a strange woman. “Holy shit, you guys, you’ll never believe what happened! My dad came to my store!”

“Your father? That is excellent news!” says Drax.

“No it’s really not, he’s a huge jackass actually.” Quill scowls.

“He does not understand how people are supposed to behave with each other,” the woman agrees, nodding sagely.

“Oh no,” says Drax, frowning. “Do you want me to track him down and kill him for you?”

“Don’t do that,” Gamora exclaims, rolling her eyes. “Let him explain whatever the hell is going on before you commit a felony.” She nods expectantly at Quill, hoping he gets the point.

“Yeah, probably don’t kill him. Although I kind of want to.” Quill sits down on a nearby chair and sighs. “So, like two hours ago this guy with a big bushy beard came in and said he had ‘something to discuss with me.’ I thought that meant maybe he was gonna talk to me about like, one of the game shows I applied for. I saw this new one they have where you have to guess what a song is before Shazam does and I think I’d be really good at it-”

“The point?” Nebula interrupts.

“Anyway, so I was like ‘about what?’ and then he said he was my dad.” Quill shrugs. “Xander Ego. He owns something called Ego Inc., which I’d never heard of but he said it was really big and successful overseas. And _then_ I was like, who’s that behind you, ‘cause there was this chick hanging out behind him, and…” He nods at the woman. “Go ahead, introduce yourself.”

“I’m Mantis!” she says, still grinning. “I’m his sister.”

Drax’s eyes almost pop out of his head, and he throws his arms up. “That’s wonderful!” Before anyone can say anything else, he bounds over and scoops Mantis up in a crushing hug. “Welcome to the family!”

Mantis squeaks, her arms ineffectively flailing. “What are you doing?” she asks, sounding breathless. “I am not _your_ sister.”

“Drax, put her down,” Gamora instructs, sighing. To Quill she adds, “We’re all going to need a little more explanation.”

“Oh, I am sorry!” Drax says, gently setting Mantis down. He pats her shoulder.

“It’s all right!” Mantis replies, shrugging cheerfully. “I have just never been hugged like that before. It was surprising.”

“So, yeah, he had Mantis with him and wanted us all to go out to lunch,” continues Quill. “So I said yeah, sure, ‘cause I wanted to know what the hell was going on, and also free food. Xander said that he and my mom met at a Cheap Trick show and that it was love at first sight, which sounded super romantic if you don’t know that he peaced out when she was like four months pregnant.”

“Oh great, you can join the shitty dads club officially,” snarks Nebula.

Quill sighs. “Yeah, when I asked Mom about him when I was younger, she didn’t want to talk too much about him. I thought it was ‘cause maybe he died or something. Turns out, nope, he was just a dick.”

Gamora raises an eyebrow. “Not to seem callous, but does that make you his attempt at doing better?” she asks Mantis.

Mantis shakes her head. “He is clearly not my biological father,” she says, shrugging. “He adopted me when I was a baby, but I think it was part of an attempt to seem like a kind and generous person. What did you call it, Peter? A publicity stunt?”

He nods. “Yup. Pretty much. I guess the idea of having a kid from Missouri wasn’t exciting enough, so he went all the way to Korea! No offense meant,” he adds quickly.

Drax stares at Mantis. “Mantis is not a name for humans. That is an insect. You are not an insect.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, chuckling. “But my birth name is Tchai Myung-hwa, and he could never pronounce that. He told me that Mantis was endearing. I think I prefer it to listening to him mispronounce my real name, even if it is an insect.”

“Oh,” says Gamora, “he’s one of _those_.” She rolls her eyes.

“Would you rather we called you by your birth name?” Drax asks, looking very serious. “I might mispronounce it but I will do my best.”

“I’m used to Mantis by now,” says Mantis ambivalently. “I appreciate the thought, but I would rather avoid situations where other people who are not you behaved like Mr. Ego.”

“Ew,” says Nebula, wrinkling her nose. “ _Mr._ Ego? Do you call him that all the time? That’s fucked up.”

“I do not call him anything if I can help it,” Mantis declares. “But especially not Dad. He is not that sort of man.”

“Can’t blame you. He sounds like a shithead.”

“So, yeah,” says Quill. “He says he didn’t come find me before now because he wanted to quote ‘focus on his business’ unquote, to which I said why didn’t you move _all_ of us to whatever fancy house you live in, and then he sorta coughed and ordered more wine. He said he wanted me to come with him and work alongside him and take over the business someday, maybe. Then he said he wanted to see my mom, and _then_ I kinda lost my shit and started yelling at him, and I don’t feel bad for that except that then the waiter came and told us to leave and I didn’t get to finish my burger.”

“Your yelling didn’t affect him at all,” Mantis interjects. “He doesn’t feel bad, I could tell. He should, but he doesn’t.”

“And then what happened?” Drax asks, looking riveted.

“Well, so we went outside, and I was still yelling, and he didn’t seem like he was gonna apologize, so I said fuck this I’m leaving, and he said that would be a big mistake. And I said leaving Mom and me was a big mistake, and stormed off. And then I heard someone calling after me and it was Mantis.” Quill smiles over at her.

“I am going to come live here!” Mantis explains eagerly. “And I’ll work in Peter’s shop, and I won’t have to follow anyone around that I don’t want to.” She nods, clearly pleased with her decision.

“Good for you,” Gamora says, and she clearly means it. “But Quill’s apartment is the last place anyone should live. Ever.”

“Hey!” he protests, pouting. “What’s wrong with my apartment?”

“It’s roughly the size and atmosphere of a pervert’s van,” Gamora points out.

“With a kickass speaker system!”

“It smells like death, and if I had ever deigned to touch anything in there I’m sure it would feel like death too,” Gamora retorts.

“Well, okay, _fine,_ ” Quill says sulkily. “I dunno where else to put her though. She’s my sister, I wanna help her.”

“She can stay with myself and Swift!” Drax says. “I have just recently reattached my bathroom door!”

“You shouldn’t ‘put’ her anywhere,” Gamora says wryly. “But there’s a third bedroom at our place, I guess.” She shoots Nebula a look that means this isn’t up for debate before explaining, “Nebula is my sister, and she and her wife and I have a decently functional house.”

Mantis’ eyes light up. “Oh!” she exclaims. “That sounds wonderful! I have never lived with other women before. But,” she adds, frowning apologetically, “you appear less related than Peter and I. May I ask about that?”

“Aw, that’s adorably tactful,” snarks Nebula. “We were both adopted by a shitty guy who used us to seem nicer than he actually was, too. She went to court over it,” she says, nodding at Nebula, “and he went to prison for fucking us up and a bunch of other shit too. Then he got murdered.” She grins evilly. “I wasn’t exactly crying over it.”

Gamora smirks. “It was a fitting end to a terrible man,” she declares. “It’s not something we discuss very much, but most of our friends are at least somewhat aware by now.”

“Then I won’t bring it up again,” Mantis promises, “but I am very glad you were able to get away from him.”

“Thank you,” Gamora says. “I’m glad you… well.” She shrugs, because this isn’t her strong suit, but she’s clearly referring to the other woman successfully evading her own adoptive parent.

“Cool!” says Quill, beaming. “So, I’m gonna close up early ‘cause it was a slow day anyway and take her to meet Mom. I guess Xander didn’t really listen to music, right? We gotta catch you up!” he adds to Mantis. “Like I said, Mom has a ton of vinyls and stills goes to concerts all the time, so we can take you with us if you wanna come.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Mom!” Quill says, opening the door.

Meredith Quill is in the kitchen, clearly in the middle of baking (it smells like pie), but she calls out, “Hi, sweetie! What’s the big news you wanted to tell me?”

“Well, uh, it’s kind of a long story, but this is my sister!” says Quill, grinning and gesturing to Mantis.

“I’m Mantis!” says Mantis, for the third time today.

Meredith blinks. “You’ve had a… really busy day, huh?” she asks, mostly to him. To Mantis she says, “It’s nice to meet you,” but there’s a little question in her voice.

“Yeah, this guy named Xander Ego showed up at the shop and said he was my dad and that he was like, a successful businessman, and he took me out to lunch and told me he wanted me to come work with him, except then he also said he wanted to come see you and I told him to go fuck himself and then we got thrown out of the restaurant.” Quill exhales and takes another deep breath before adding, “Oh, and he adopted her from Korea ‘cause I guess he wanted to seem like not a shitbag who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend. I dunno where he is now, I stormed off.”

“Your son is a good brother,” Mantis tells Meredith, nodding seriously. “I’m going to come work at his shop because Mr. Ego is very much a shitbag and I’m tired of him.”

“Yeah.” Quill nods. “So that’s everything that happened. Oh, and she doesn’t know any bands or anything because Ego didn’t really like music, so we gotta fix that too. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not!” Meredith exclaims, waving them close enough that she can give them each half a hug. “I’m sorry he was such a jerk. I shoulda known not to trust him when he admitted he was only at that concert ‘cause someone dragged him, but I never guessed he was gonna do any of _this_.” She rolls her eyes. “Wanna stay for dinner? I have burgers, and there’s peach pie in the oven for after.”

“You want to stay for dinner,” Quill stage-whispers to Mantis. “Nobody makes peach pie like my mom.”

Mantis grins. “That sounds wonderful,” she agrees.

“Perfect,” Meredith beams. “It’s gonna be a little while, you wanna put a record on in the meantime?”

“Yeah! C’mon, you can come pick something.” Quill gestures for Mantis to follow him into the living room.


	146. all we can do is try and live like we're still alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Gabe's 21st birthday and Robbie panicked and outsourced the party to friends.

“Hey!” Gabe calls. “How long have you guys been sitting here?”

“Maybe an hour?” asks Mack, ambling over towards Gabe and Robbie. “Been pretty quiet, though.”

Bruce nods. “The few people who’ve shown up so far were fine with coming back later.”

“Thanks,” grunts Robbie, giving them a half-smile. “We appreciate that.”

“Yeah,” Gabe agrees, nodding. “Bet when you told them it was for a birthday party they thought it was for a little kid, huh?”

Mack chuckles. “Let’s just say we didn’t give them too many details and let them assume whatever they wanted.”

“Hey, it works,” Gabe chuckles. “I know it’s kind of silly to have a twenty-first birthday at the skate park, but it’s easy and it’s free. And I’m not really one for clubs anyway, probably.”

“That’s okay,” says Bruce. “Clubs are overrated anyway.” He grins. “This kind of thing is more my speed.”

Gabe looks relieved. “Glad I’m not the only one,” he says.

Drax and Joey come next, Drax holding an enormous octopus-shaped piñata. ”What should I do with it?” Drax asks, looking pleased with himself.

“Uh,” says Robbie. He asked for Drax’s help with the piñata, but he wasn’t expected something so...large.

“It’s got little bottles of booze inside,” says Joey with a grin. He’s holding a baseball bat, presumably for the piñata. “If you’re wondering why it’s so huge.”

“I figured you’d just wanna give everyone a chance to beat the crap out of an octopus,” Gabe cracks.

Drax nods eagerly. “It was quite enjoyable to make! Although Swift seemed afraid of it. She ran and hid every time I brought it out.”

“I don’t blame her,” says Elena, who’s just walking up holding the cake. “It’s scary.” She grins at Robbie and Gabe. “Hi, you two.”

“Hi,” Gabe says, waving. “That looks so good.”

“Hopefully! I haven’t baked anything in awhile, but I did my best.” Elena sets the cake on the same table that’s half-covered in Bruce’s textbooks and papers. “I hope that’s okay,” she adds.

“Oh, sure!” Bruce stands up and starts gathering his things. “I should’ve done this earlier, sorry.”

“This is just really cool of you guys,” Gabe says to everyone.

“‘Course,” says Mack. “We’re happy to help you guys out. Plus, we like you and stuff.”

Robbie looks vaguely embarrassed. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Don’t mind him,” Gabe smirks, “he’s just terrible at human interaction.”

Akela, who came with Elena, chuckles. “I think a lot of us are,” she says. “No offense taken.”

“Hush,” Robbie says, swiping his hand over his face like he’s trying to hide. “I’m not _that_ bad.”

“You kinda are,” Gabe replies, but he means it fondly.

“Hey!” Bobbi exclaims, coming across the park with Skye, Jemma, Fitz, and Trip on her heels. “We’re not late, are we?”

“Nope!” Gabe says. “Hey, you guys! Glad you could all make it and stuff.”

“‘Course.” Skye is lugging a messily-wrapped package. “Do we have a designated present spot?”

Mack shrugs. “Over there?” he asks, pointing vaguely to the area near the cake.

Jemma grins. “I see there’s some decoration, too,” she says, nodding at the octopus.

“We will destroy it with the baseball bat!” crows Drax. “I thought it would be a good joke. Because of Hydra.”

“Yeah, we kinda figured,” Bobbi smirks, setting her own present down on the pile. “You make that yourself?”

“Yes! I consulted several websites. I had never made a piñata before.”

“And I helped,” chimes in Joey, grinning. “Came out pretty good.”

Mantis strolls up, Carina and Nebula behind her, and declares, “That is terrifying.”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Fitz asks, seeming more confused than upset.

“I got dragged,” says Nebula with a shrug, then jerks her thumb at Mantis. “This is Quill’s sister. Gamora made us bring her.”

“Hello! I’m Mantis,” says Mantis. “I have never met Gabe, but I brought a present anyway. My adopted father doesn’t seem to care that I’m still using his credit card.”

Gabe laughs, reaching his hand out for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mantis,” he says. “More the merrier, I say! You’re definitely old enough to drink, right?”

“Yes,” Mantis says. “I don’t do it very often, but I am not breaking the law when I do.”

Drax laughs too. “It is good to see you again, Mantis! How are you liking your new home?”

“It’s very nice,” Mantis says solemnly. “There is always advance warning when Gamora is going to bring someone over and be noisy with him. She always brings the same someone. Both of these things are exciting for me.”

“Good!” says Drax. “I quite like her boyfriend Mike. This is my boyfriend, Joey.” He puts a hand gently on Joey’s arm. “Joey lets me ride on his motorcycle.”

“Hey there,” says Joey, waving. “Nice to meet you.”

Mantis waves back. “Are motorcycles fun? They seem like they would be frightening.”

“I think so, anyway! But I can see how they’re not for everyone.” Joey grins. “I just like going fast.”

“Gee, that sounds familiar,” Gabe smirks, nudging Robbie.

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” says Robbie.

“Dude,” Gabe says, rolling his eyes. To everyone else he explains, “His car. The famous Lucy. It’s - that is, she’s _fast_.”

“Nice! My bike is Quinto,” replies Joey, “after, um, Zachary Quinto.” He looks mildly embarrassed.

“Ooh, what’d you think of the new _Star Trek_?” Trip interjects. “I thought it was maybe the best of the three reboot movies.”

“Yeah, it was pretty good,” agrees Joey. “I like Simon Pegg a lot so I wasn’t surprised.”

“It was very good!” says Drax. “Very exciting.”

“I haven’t seen it,” says Mantis, furrowing her brow. “I haven’t seen any of those movies. The new ones, at least. Should I do that?” She glances at Carina and Nebula, trying to figure out how important this is.

“They’re all right,” Carina says, shrugging. “The second one not so much, but…”

“You could come over and watch it with me, Mantis!” Drax suggests. “Only if you want. Quill quite liked it, he was very enamored of the woman who plays Uhura. Nebula tried to point out she looks like Gamora and Gamora got upset.” He grins. “It would be fun!”

Mantis giggles. “I do want,” she says. “I would like to see it if it’s something that everyone enjoys.”

“Hey there, everyone!” calls a new voice. It’s Remy, with a somewhat embarrassed-looking Rogue behind him.

“Hey!” says Robbie, almost smiling. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hey,” drawls Rogue.

“I see you brought your boyfriend,” snarks Nebula, grinning evilly.

“Be nice,” Carina mutters, gently but pointedly nudging Nebula.

“He ain’t-” Rogue starts to say, then glances at Remy and sighs. “Alright, _fine_. I guess we’re goin’ steady.”

Remy snickers. “Don’t say you’re ashamed of me, _chère_. You’ll break my heart.”

“Oh, pet names,” says Nebula. “Ew.”

 

* * *

 

“You are quite strong!” Drax calls as Laura hits the piñata hard enough to break off one of the arms. About a dozen small plastic bottles spill out. “Well done!”

“Thank you,” says Laura, reaching up to untie the bandana around her head. “Logan says I should go into cagefighting like him. I’m considering it.”

“We’d be happy to have you!” says Drax, beaming. “I’m sure you’d be a most worthy opponent!”

“I feel like this is the part where I should try to talk you out of it as the responsible friend,” Carina murmurs wryly. “But I know it won’t work.”

Cessily shrugs. “I think she’s kidding?” she murmurs hopefully.

“Your turn,” says Laura, offering the bat and bandana to Kara.

For reasons nobody is one hundred percent sure of, but most of the guests can sort of guess at, Kara smirks at her girlfriend before she blindfolds herself. “Well, I do enjoy bashing octopi,” she hums, stepping back and then forward in the general direction of the piñata. She very narrowly misses the target on her first try, but on the second she lands a solid hit to the right side, caving in a space near the octopus’ comically large eyes. A stray bottle falls to the ground out of one of the holes that’s already been opened.

“Damn,” Karen calls appreciatively, chuckling.

“I do good?” Kara asks, clearly smug. She knows the answer.

“You kicked its ass,” declares Bobbi, taking a sip of her Smirnoff Ice and then lazily wrapping her arm around Skye’s shoulders.

Bruce seems nervous about his turn, but when his very first hit splits the octopus in two, raining tiny bottles on the ground, he grins. “I guess I don’t know my own strength,” he says with a sheepish shrug.

By this point, everyone’s had at least one drink already, but they still dive for the tiny bottles anyway. Robbie ends up with a couple of handfuls, which he quickly hands to Gabe. “Here,” he says, smirking. “It’s your day.”

Gabe rolls his eyes and sighs. “Guess it keeps me from running over anyone’s fingers while I try to pick them up myself,” he cracks.

“Oh, you know we’d make sure you got some either way,” teases Elena. “Wouldn’t do to have the birthday boy miss out on his own prize.”

“Oh, of course not,” Gabe replies, rolling his eyes playfully. He opens one of his bottle-shots and tries to swallow it in one go, which is somewhat unsuccessful.

Skye giggles. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Gabe retorts, shrugging it off. “Just wasn’t expecting how it was going to, y’know, hit me.”

Jemma nods sagely. “Shots can be brutal,” she agrees. “But some people are very adamant that doing shots can get you drunk faster, because of, because of how it affects you _chemically_ -”

“Jem,” Fitz interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Not the crowd for it.”

“I’m just saying,” Jemma mumbles, knocking back a bottle-shot of her own.

Bobbi raises an eyebrow, protectively slides an arm around Jemma’s waist, and says, “We should get to those presents if we wanna have time for more inebriated revelry after, that’s a pretty big pile.”

“Don’t have to twist my arm,” Gabe says.

“Alright!” says Joey, handing Gabe a box. “This one first. It’s from...well, I’ll explain when you get it open.”

Gabe chuckles and puts his brakes on before he starts ripping the wrapping paper open. “That sounds a little ominous,” he says wryly.

“It’s not ominous at all! It kicks ass,” Darcy calls out, lolling against Ian.

“Taking your word for it, then,” Gabe says. When he finally gets the present open, it’s a Nintendo Switch, which - “Okay, _definitely_ taking your word for it! That’s awesome. Where the hell did you find this? They’re impossible to track down.”

“Joey had the idea,” Elena says. “He got a bunch of us to chip in for it and tracked it down himself.”

Joey looks a little embarrassed. “I have connections.”

“There is a card!” Mantis exclaims. “Don’t forget about the card! It’s very big because we all had to be able to sign it.”

“I found the card,” says Akela. “Hope you like dragons.”

“Dude,” Gabe says as he opens the card, which does in fact feature a very large pop-up dragon as well as the signatures of twelve of his guests. “That’s so cool!”

“Thought you’d like it,” says Joey, grinning. “And these are from Bruce, Mack, Darcy, and Ian and they go with it.” He hands him three nearly identical packages.

“Gee, I wonder what they could be,” Gabe jokes. Games, unsurprisingly: Mario Kart 8, Skyrim, and Rayman Origins, all of which earn his approving nods. “This will keep me busy for months.”

“Except when you have homework to do,” Robbie says in his best big brother voice.

“Does he pull that card on you all the time?” Bobbi asks Gabe, probably joking around.

“If I felt like it, I could make it a drinking game,” Gabe says seriously, though he’s teasing too.

“Well, _someone’s_ got to make sure you’re putting your smarts to good use,” replies Robbie. “Anyway, mine next.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabe laughs, reaching to accept the gift bag from Joey (who’s now, apparently, the presents emcee). It’s not a particularly well-fortified gift bag, considering that he pretty much has to pull out one sheet of tissue paper before he actually gets to the present, but that doesn’t matter because the present, by virtue of being from Robbie, also kicks a lot of ass. “This real leather?” he asks, taking the jacket out and looking it over.

“‘Course. I wouldn’t half-ass it,” teases Robbie. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Gabe replies, giving a smile that’s actually not half-assing at all.

“Ours all go together,” Jemma announces, waving at Skye and Bobbi. “Or, well, mine and Skye’s are the same but Bobbi’s goes with it too.” She nods expectantly at Joey.

Joey hands Gabe the first package, which is a screen-accurate replica of Cassian Andor’s blaster from _Rogue One_. “Nice!” Gabe exclaims. “You remembered!”

“Sure I did,” says Skye, looking pleased with herself. “And I figured you should have a nicer one than just the Nerf one. Which is like, nice, but bright orange, which looks stupid.”

“Yeah, that is goofy,” Gabe agrees. “I get the point, but it’s pretty useless for adult costumes.”

“Now mine,” Bobbi says. This turns out to be a fancy holster, and before it’s even out of the box she explains, “It can be worn on your hip or you can rig it to your chair, whichever you feel like.” She’s clearly pleased with this detail, but less in a self-congratulatory way and more in the way of that it must have posed some challenges that a standard pattern wouldn’t have been able to fix.

“That’s really cool,” Gabe promises. “I kinda don’t even know what to say.”

“How about, may the Force be with you?” says Skye with a shit-eating grin.

Trip snorts. “Just had to, huh?”

“ _Obviously_.”

“Ours is just baked goods,” Kara says, nodding to the appropriate package.

“Not _just_ ,” Karen giggles, and indeed the cookies are also also _Star Wars_ -themed, shaped like various ships (clearly the work of cookie cutters).

“Well, they look awesome,” Gabe assures.

“I’m sorry mine isn’t so interesting,” Fitz chimes in, looking sheepish. “But they’re useful, I hope.”

“I’m sure they are,” Gabe says before he gets the box open. When what’s inside is a stack of engineering textbooks, his eyes widen. “No, seriously, they really are. Thank you so much. Are these yours?”

Fitz nods. “Well, they were. I figured you’d need them, and since I’m...well, I won’t need them anymore. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Gabe says, nodding very sincerely.

The party segues into casual drinking and hanging out soon after, and a few different conversations pick up around the group. At their table, Bobbi hops up to refresh her and her girls’ drinks Trip and Skye start chatting about Mother’s Day. “Yeah, I’m going out to dinner with my mom later tonight,” Trip says. “How about you, you just give your mom a call?”

“Yeah, I Skyped with her earlier. I think she’s still kinda getting used to the whole actually-having-a-kid thing.” Skye grins. “I sent her a card, too. She said she’s got it in her office.”

“Cute.” Grinning, Trip adds, “How about you, Jemma? You do the expected phone call with your folks yet?”

“Not quite,” Jemma says, shrugging. “Mum’s schedule is odd, so we’ve got it planned for tomorrow when we know we’ll both be free.”

“Makes sense.” Trip glances over at Fitz, who looks lost in thought. “You okay?” He puts his hand on Fitz’s arm affectionately.

Fitz shakes his head, like he’s waking up. “Sorry,” he says. “Was just thinking...well, Jemma heard about this but I might as well tell you and Skye now. I got an offer to do a year in Poland, including an internship with this lab I’ve heard amazing things about.”

“Holy shit,” Skye says. “That’s...far.”

“Yes,” Jemma says, clearly trying not to make a face and clearly making a face anyway.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Fitz says, almost defensively. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“It sounds like it could be really good for you,” Trip points out. “Is the school paying for it?”

Fitz nods. “I have to get airfare but that’s it. It’s...it’s a lot to think about.”

Skye takes a drink, then nods. “What would you do about the apartment and stuff?”

“I dunno,” Fitz says, frowning. “Jemma and I have talked about it a little, but since I’m still deciding…”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Jemma sighs. After a moment she glances at FItz and says, “I don’t mean to be spiteful, you know.”

“No, I know,” he says. “It’s a lot to take in. _I’m_ still taking it in. And I might stay, I dunno.”

Trip leans down to kiss his forehead. “We’ll support you either way.”

“So apparently there’s some elaborate truths and lies drinking game that Darcy found online,” Bobbi announces, strolling back over and very casually brushing past the weird atmosphere because they’re still at a birthday party, dammit. “You guys should come play, it sounds like it’s going to be ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is good,” Jemma says, hopping up and slipping under Bobbi’s arm.


	147. here in these deep city lights, girl could get lost tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty takes Colleen to Luke's bar to meet people.

“Is this a formal event?” Colleen teases as she and Misty walk into the bar. “I feel like maybe I’m a little underdressed.”

“Look around, this is hardly fancy,” Misty retorts cheerfully. “It’s just Saturday at the bar.”

“Yeah, but it’s...” Colleen pauses. “Your friends. Y’know.”

“I know they’re gonna be ridiculous, but they’re not exactly difficult to please,” Misty says, a little softer. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Okay,” Colleen says, shrugging a little too casually. “Where to now?”

“Alcohol,” Misty says wryly, steering Colleen toward the actual bar. It goes without saying that everyone else will catch up with them there.

“Hey there,” Luke says with an easy smirk. “What can I get you?”

“The usual for me,” Misty replies, not visibly reacting. “And…”

“Just a whiskey sour, thanks,” says Colleen. “Are you Luke? Misty’s mentioned you.”

“Oh?” Luke raises an eyebrow. “What’s she said?”

“That you’ve been friends since you guys were kids, and you work in a bar. Nothing bad.” Colleen grins over at Misty.

“Pretty sure we’ve been friends long enough that he knows you’d say that no matter what I actually told you,” Misty remarks. “We the first ones in tonight?”

“Guess so, yeah. Jess and Trish’ll be here in a bit, once they’re off. I guess the others will show up whenever.” Luke passes Misty her drink and then starts on Colleen’s. “Nice to meet you,” he adds to Colleen.

“Yeah, you too. I don’t, um, I don’t know a lot of people around here.” Colleen shrugs awkwardly.

“Our group’s pretty good. Trish can introduce you to more people if you want, or Jess can give you tips on avoiding people if you’d rather.” Luke snorts. “Trish is the only one of us who actually likes people.”

Trish is, of course, walking through the door just as he says it, and rolls her eyes. “That’s not a bad thing,” she says. To Colleen she says, “You’re new so I’m guessing you’re Colleen?”

“Yeah, hi.” Colleen nods and smiles. “And you’re...Trish?”

“When I have any say in the matter, anyway,” Trish replies brightly. “Jess should be behind me…?”

“‘Sup,” grunts Jessica, appearing behind Trish. “So you’re the new girlfriend, huh?”

Colleen coughs and glances at Misty.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Misty grumbles, although the way she squeezes Colleen’s hand seems to stand in direct contradiction.

“Whatever. Jessica Jones, at your service,” Jessica snarks before ambling up to the counter. “God, I thought I’d never finish cleaning tonight.”

“Kids again?” asks Luke, turning to start Jessica’s drink.

“Yup. Little bastards got the brushes all mixed up. Swear to God-” Jessica pauses and adds, presumably for Colleen’s benefit, “I work at the art place in the mall.”

“Oh,” says Colleen, nodding. “So, brushes.”

“Brushes.” Jessica nods. “There aren’t usually that many kids in there, but still too many.”

Trish sighs and takes a seat. “I’d take kids over drunk sports fans any day,” she declares before adding, for Colleen, “I hostess at Applebee’s.”

“Yikes,” winces Colleen. “Sorry.”

“It astounds me how somehow, Jess is the one out of the three of us who _doesn’t_ regularly deal with drunk people at work,” Trish says. “It’s truly one of life’s mysteries.”

“Just lucky, I guess,” shrugs Jessica, taking a long drink once Luke slides it to her. “How about you, what do you do?” she asks Colleen.

“Oh, I just work on campus,” says Colleen with a shrug. “Technically in admissions, but if they need a Mandarin or Japanese translator, they call me.”

“That’s cool,” Trish says. “I mean, it probably gets boring like any job sometimes, but still. Does that happen a lot?”

“Maybe once a week or less? Mostly parents, grandparents and the like. My folks are out in New York so it’s a nice chance to practice, anyway.”

“Is that something you’d be interested in doing long-term, or is it a job to get you by like the rest of us have?” Trish asks.

“God, no, just a job. I want to open my own dojo someday - I’m a karate black belt and I know a little about some other styles, thanks to my dad and grandfather. Not for awhile, but.” Colleen shrugs. “It’s something to work towards.”

“Nice,” says Jessica, eyes gleaming. “Kicking ass is always fun.”

“See?” Misty teases. “You’re gonna get along with them fine.”

While Trish and Colleen are chatting about fighting styles, Matt and Foggy find their way over. “Hey!” calls Foggy, waving even though it’s unnecessary. “Colleen, right? Nice to meet you! I’m Foggy.”

“Matt,” Matt adds, smirking. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not just a jackass wearing these indoors, I’m blind.”

“Wasn’t gonna ask, don’t worry,” says Colleen with a snort, “but thanks.”

“Don’t mind him,” drawls Karen, appearing behind them with Kara on her arm. “He self-deprecates. It’s a whole thing.”

“That, I get,” Colleen adds, glancing at them curiously. “You are…?”

“Karen, and my girlfriend Kara,” says Karen. “Also to self-deprecate, yeah, we know it sounds ridiculous. We have the same initials, too. It’s pretty goofy.”

“And a little confusing,” Kara agrees, “but we’ve got it worked out.”

Colleen shrugs. “Hey, if it works for you.”

“So,” Luke says, smirking, “seems like you and Misty are pretty close.”

Misty glares. “Lay off, Cage,” she mutters.

He shrugs innocently. “Just sayin’. Only fair, you give me shit all the time.”

“Misty’s been really nice,” says Colleen with an awkward smile. “I’m not, uh, super good at social stuff, so.”

“Yeah, she’s cool that way,” Luke replies.

“I wanna help,” Misty says, not sounding particularly helpful at the moment.

“Cute,” chimes in Jessica. “You look like you’ve been _real_ helpful.” The look on her face as she sips her drink is decidedly _not_ innocent.

Trish nudges Jessica, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal,” she mumbles.

“It’s only fair,” says Luke. “She used to do this for me, I’m just returning the favor.”

“Well,” Karen says very brightly, “it’s cute, whatever’s goin’ on here. We’re all… paired off. It fits.”

“We are?” Foggy asks, tilting his head.

“Oh, are you and Matt not together?” Colleen asks. “I thought you were.”

Matt is in the middle of taking a drink and spits some of it back out. “No,” he says, seeming more confused than anything. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, you are sort of… _close_ ,” Kara smirks.

“We live together!” Foggy points out. “And we’ve known each other for like four years now. That’s not that weird.”

“It’s not _weird_ ,” Jessica says, “just funny.”

Matt laughs, too loudly. “It’s definitely funny.”

Misty raises an eyebrow. “Nothin’ wrong with it if you guys did wanna get together,” she remarks.

“No, of course not!” Foggy says. “It’s just...we aren’t!” He coughs.

“Should probably drop it, Fog,” Matt says. “I’m not sure the defensiveness is helping.”

Foggy looks like he’s about to respond, but then Elektra sidles up and purrs, “Evening, everyone.”

“You look smug,” Misty remarks.

“I hadn’t noticed,” says Elektra airily. “You must be the new girl. Colleen, isn’t it?” She looks her up and down. “Lovely. Pity you’re already spoken for,” she adds with a smirk.

“Don’t hit on her,” says Foggy. “You already have a girlfriend!”

“She certainly does,” Vanessa drawls. “But I’m not opposed to appreciating beautiful women.”

Colleen ducks her head. “Um, hi,” she says, smiling a little nervously. “And you are…?”

“Elektra,” Elektra says, offering a hand. “ _Very_ nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Vanessa,” Vanessa adds, draping herself over Elektra. “I’m the _girlfriend_.”

“Hi,” Colleen says. “Are you guys at the mall too?”

Elektra nods. “I work at the knife store, and Vanessa curates and manages the art gallery.” She smiles at Vanessa. “She’s familiar with beauty in all its forms.”

“I certainly am,” Vanessa says coolly. “Where do you spend your days, Colleen?”

“Just at Central, working in admissions,” says Colleen with a little shrug. “I wanna get a self-defense club started, but I haven’t done much with that yet.”

“Oh, self-defense?” Elektra asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re good at that.”

“I’m a karate black belt,” replies Colleen, “and I know a little about some other martial art styles.”

Elektra grins. “We should spar sometime. I think that’d be fun.”

“She won’t go easy,” Misty smirks.

“Don’t worry, I like a bit of a challenge.” Elektra takes a sip of the drink Luke passed her.

“She fights dirty,” Matt says to Colleen. “Watch your back.”

“I can handle it,” says Colleen, smirking. “I have a couple tricks up my sleeve too.”

“Surprised you’re encouraging this,” Luke says quietly to Misty.

“It’s none of my business whose asses Colleen kicks in her spare time,” Misty shrugs.

“Fair enough,” Luke says with a chuckle.

“I’m looking forward to seeing some of your tricks,” Elektra says, reaching out to run her hand over Colleen’s bicep.

This, however, makes Misty clear her throat pointedly. “Excuse me,” she says.

Colleen doesn’t seem to mind Elektra’s attention, but she glances over at Colleen with a frown. “What’s up?”

“Just… don’t know how you feel about her getting that chummy,” Misty mumbles.

Colleen shrugs. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s better than when guys get weird about my muscles or my martial arts stuff. Thanks though.” She smiles.

“Don’t let me get in the way,” says Elektra, taking another drink. “You two are far too cute.”

Colleen colors a bit, and Misty coughs. “Cute?”

“It’s nice that you’re looking out for her,” Elektra says, eyes gleaming mischievously. “It’s cute.”

“I call it being polite,” Misty corrects.

Luke snorts. “Or something like that.”

“Oh, wait a second,” Colleen says. “Matt, how do you know how Elektra fights if…?” She pauses, unsure how to continue.

“We used to spar a lot,” says Matt. “I learned to fight when I was a kid. Nothing fancy like your stuff, but I can hold my own.” He looks a little smug. “Not to brag.”

“Matthew moonlights as a cagefighter too,” Elektra adds. “He’s quite good.”

“Cagefighting?” Colleen asks. “Isn’t that illegal?” She adds quickly, “I mean, not that I’m not interested.”

“It’s _supposed_ to be,” Foggy sighs, “but nobody’s gonna do anything about it, even when he comes home all fucked up.”

“It’s fun,” defends Matt. “And it’s a nice way to blow off steam. I can get you the information if you want.”

Colleen glances at Misty. “You wouldn’t snitch on me, right?” she teases.

“Who would I snitch to around here, the Nazi brigade?” Misty replies, wry.

“Oh no,” sighs Elena as she and Akela walk over. “Don’t tell me we’re talking about _them_.”

“No, we were actually talking about fight club,” says Matt. “Colleen here was interested.”

“Oh!” Elena grins at her. “You should come, it’s fun. Very satisfying.”

“Matt was telling me,” Colleen says. “I definitely want to. I’m a black belt, so.”

“Nice,” Akela says, nodding. “You’ll fit right in. They play rough over there.” She smirks at Elena. “I’d play too, but people don’t want to fight a girl with a glass eye.”

Misty sighs overdramatically. “It’s a good thing we’re all friends with a damn nurse,” she says.

As if summoned, Claire and Candace saunter through the door and Candace says, “Hey, sounds like they’re bragging about you.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Dammit. I wanted _one_ evening…”

“Sorry,” drawls Jessica with a chuckle. “You’re the one who’s still friends with all of us.”

“I’m rethinking that right about now,” groans Claire. “Luke, gimme something strong.”

“Can do,” says Luke, turning to start on it.

“Have you told her about the Nazis yet?” Jessica asks Misty. “‘Cause if you haven’t you _definitely_ should.”

Colleen raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I heard some of the stuff you guys were saying at the party, but hearing more wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Yeah, we have a Nazi problem, like they were saying at that party,” Misty sighs. “They’re anywhere from high schools to IKEA to the police force.”

“Oh. Well, that’s…” Colleen wrinkles her nose. “Not great.”

“Nope,” Misty agrees. “Vigilante justice is a collective hobby around here.”

“Good to know, I guess,” says Colleen with a shrug. “Don’t suppose they have like bandanas or something so you can easily identify them?”

“Octopi,” Trish drawls. “Usually red. Occasionally green. Always overt.”

“They’ve got tattoos of them too,” Foggy says. “Sometimes on their shoulders. Sometimes...other places. If you see somebody at the IKEA wearing Under Armor under their uniform, turn around and walk away. A bunch of them work there.”

“I believe you can take care of yourself,” Kara says, “but be careful. They’re insidious.”

“You’re the one who had all that horrible shit happen to her, right?” Colleen asks. “I’m sorry.”

“Unfortunately, that’s me,” Kara agrees. “But I came out of it okay, and with my own personal honor guard.” She smirks at Matt, Luke, and Jessica. “These guys. A bunch of the others, too.”

“Oh, cool. I mean, count me in, if you need more people on it.” Colleen grins. “Hope that’s not weird, but you seem cool.”

“Not weird at all,” Kara says.

“Basically the entire community rallied around her,” Karen adds, grinning. “It was pretty kickass, and she deserves it.”

“Yeah,” agrees Foggy. “Matt beat up her ex in a parking lot once. That was about the only time I’ve been okay with him being a crazy vigilante.”

Colleen winces. “Yeah, he sounded pretty bad. Do you get people randomly speaking Chinese at you?” she asks Kara. “I mean, I can tell you’re not Chinese, but y’know how it is.”

“Oh my god, no,” Kara exclaims. “I’ve… I mean, racist assholes say things to me, but not… that.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s...fun.” Colleen rolls her eyes. “I’m taking an Asian history class and this one white guy sat down next to me on the first day and talked to me in Mandarin. I _do_ know Mandarin, but it was ridiculous.”

Elektra winces. “I sometimes get that. They are...persistent.”

“Wait,” says Misty. “Is that the guy who always walks around without shoes on, smelling vaguely like pot and spontaneously meditating everywhere?”

Colleen snorts. “Probably, yeah. Curly blonde hair?”

“Yeah, that guy,” Misty agrees. “I’ve never actually had to deal with him, but he’s hard to miss.”

“I don’t know if we’re talking about the same guy, but I walked by somebody praying to Buddha once under a tree,” says Matt. “I thought I must’ve misheard, but…”

“No, that sounds like him,” sighs Colleen. “He’s one of _those_ guys. I haven’t told him about my club idea because he’d probably try and crash it.”

“Actually, this might be the same guy who decided to show off his martial arts skills and break a stack of boards with his hand,” says Claire. “He thought he was ready. He wasn’t.”

“Yikes,” says Foggy. “He sounds like...a disaster.”

“Yeah, he looks like if he got in a real fight he would sort of just bounce around ineffectually,” says Colleen with a shrug. “I think he’s probably harmless, just annoying. At least he hasn’t actually asked me out yet.”

“He sounds like a mess,” Kara says.

“Did he act like he was _gonna_ ask you out?” Misty asks, sounding horrified.

“I don’t know. I’m not very good at gauging that stuff, but I think maybe he’s one of those guys who wants to date an Asian girl for, y’know, weird reasons.” Colleen makes a face. “That’s happened enough that I kind of just assume if they speak Mandarin to me, they’re one of those.”

“It’s not a bad assumption,” Kara sighs. “Guys like that are awful.”

Colleen laughs. “I mean, I’m too gay to have to really worry about them anyway, but.”

“Same, now that I’ve admitted it to myself, but still,” Kara smirks.

“Sorry,” Foggy says. “Dudes are kind of...bad...a lot of the time.”

“It’s fine,” says Colleen, shrugging. “I’m good.” She smiles at Misty. “If he asks me out, I’ve got a couple of really good reasons to say no.”

In spite of herself, Misty blushes and nudges Colleen fondly. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is the only Danny appearance you get. We're not really fans. We love Colleen though!


	148. too late two choices to stay or to leave, mine was so easy to uncover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Central has an on-campus party to kick off summer classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up: we do not excuse the bad things that canon Aida did! But blah blah different context proper emotional development situational betterness we are sticking with the version of Aida we decided to write based off of the adorable non-terrifying robot in the first eight episodes.

“Hey, there,” says a new voice.

Aida turns gracefully away from the buffet table and raises an eyebrow. Being relatively new to the Central University social scene means that they don’t know all that many people yet, so they’re not surprised that this person is unfamiliar. “Hello,” they say. They don’t want to make any snap judgments, but - well. They’re wary.

“I’m Killian,” he says, offering his hand. “I just had to come over and say hello to such a lovely lady.”

Ah. So they were right to be wary. “I suppose I’m not wearing my nametag, so I’ll forgive your confusion,” they say smoothly, smiling even as they begin to rummage in their purse for the object in question. “I’m Aida.”

“ _Very_ nice to meet you, Aida,” Killian says, smirking. “You must be new. I’d have remembered you.”

“I’m a recent transfer,” Aida agrees, voice honeyed. Normally they don’t go out of their way to invite _discourse_ , but they have a feeling that right now it’ll be appropriate, so they add, “Why, exactly, do you think you’d remember me?”

“I make a habit of remembering beautiful women,” he says with a lazy shrug. “I hope I’m not being too forward.”

Aida smiles and lifts their work nametag - complete with pronouns - up so this Killian can see. “It’s a mistaken assumption I hear a lot,” they sigh.

He squints at it, then looks back at them. His smile looks a bit more pasted-on. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he croons.

“I’m not a woman,” Aida declares. “I can’t stop you from thinking I’m beautiful, given the objective nature of beauty, but I’m not a woman.”

Killian blinks. “You certainly _look_ like one.”

“Well, you certainly _look_ like a bigoted asshole, but I wasn’t going to assume,” they reply brightly, gathering their plate and getting ready to make their exit.

“Hey, now, that’s not fair,” he says, stepping closer to them. “You barely know me. I’m a nice guy when you get to know me, promise.” Killian flashes them a wide smile.

“I know that even when you were told how to be decent, you chose to ignore it,” Aida sniffs. “And I can recognize the difference between innocent ignorance and offense that someone has gone beyond what you perceive as the rules of the world. You’re in the latter category.”

He splutters, but they’ve already walked away.

The next person they come across is Maya, who they know from the mall; they must still look aggravated, because Maya’s instinct is to frown and ask, “Who pissed you off?”

“He said his name was Killian,” Aida says, utterly disdainful.

Maya cringes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s kind of the worst. King of the MRAs and all that. Sexual harassment or gender harassment or both?”

“Both,” Aida mutters, rolling their eyes. “Believe me when I say that walking out of that conversation abruptly was the kindest thing I could have done.”

Maria, who was off getting drinks for herself and her girlfriend, wanders up. “Oh, hey,” she says, smiling at Aida. “What happened?”

“Cishet men happened,” Aida says darkly. “Some form of violence very nearly happened, but I pulled myself away in time.”

Maria raises an eyebrow. “Violence? Shit. You okay? Who was it?”

“Killian,” Maya says, at the same time that Aida says, “Oh, don’t worry. I was going to be the one doing the violence, not him. I simply doubted that would be anyone’s idea of a fun summer picnic and refrained.”

Making a face, Maria nods. “He’s...horrible. I’m sorry.”

Aia shrugs. “Unfortunately, I’m used to it.” They pause and seem to brighten considerably before adding, “Where were the beverages hiding? All I saw was soda and punch.”

Malcolm, who happens to be walking by, overhears and says, “Hey Aida, I could take you, I was just heading that way myself.”

“Thank you,” Aida says, smiling. They wave good-bye to Maria and Maya as they head off, asking, “How are you? Did you survive finals?”

“Barely,” Malcolm replies with a chuckle. “My Behavioral Science one was a killer. Most of the others were projects, but that one was just...ridiculous. You?”

“I think it went well enough,” Aida says. “There was something of a to-do with one of my professors about professional presentation and what would and would not be appropriate.” They roll their eyes, but remain cheerful. “It didn’t affect my grade, though. It was just unpleasant.”

Malcolm wrinkles his nose. “They got on _your_ case about what was and wasn’t professional? That’s wild. You’re so...fancy.”

They smirk. “Fancy, yes, but it was more of a question of what I should expect from people I work with,” they say. “What points of clarification are polite enough to make.”

“Oh, gotcha,” says Malcolm, nodding. “I hope it got worked out okay?”

“I think so,” Aida replies. “The discussion is closed, in any case.”

“Cool, cool.” Malcolm nods. “Nice to see you here, anyway. The beer and stuff is back here.” He leads them to a cooler guarded by Helen. “Oh, hi, Helen, how’re you?”

“I’m doing well,” Helen says. “And the two of you? I’m not sure we’ve met…?” She glances at Aida curiously.

“I’m Aida,” says Aida, nodding. “I’m in the languages department. You’re Helen Cho, yes? I saw your final presentation on Statistical Genetics and Genetic Epidemiology. Fascinating work.”

“Really!” Helen exclaims, delighted. “Thank you for saying. It’s not often that I draw attention from outside my own department.”

Aida shrugs, making it look somehow elegant. “I enjoy sitting in on a bit of everything,” they say. “Broadening horizons and all.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s your little… y’know, your friend who’s a boy?” Misty asks, then immediately glancing at Colleen to say, “See? I caught myself.” Not that she’s ever been one to aggressively assume people are dating, but sometimes words come out incorrectly.

Jemma glances around the grassy area and sighs, somewhat melodramatically. “Off having a sulk, probably,” she says. “He’s got it in his head that I’m cross with him and instead of just approaching me with his concerns, he feels the best option is to go off by himself.”

“It’s not his finest moment,” Bobbi remarks wryly.

“Sorry,” Misty says. “Communication problems can be awful.”

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” Jemma sighs.

Skye reaches over to rub her back. “Yeah, it’s...annoying,” she says, rolling her eyes, then brightens. “Anyway, at least we get to hang out with you guys!”

Colleen smiles. “Yeah, it’s nice. I’ll definitely take you up on the _Pacific Rim_ offer sometime.”

“Good,” says Skye, nodding seriously. “It’s the best movie ever.”

“I bet you two could pilot a Jaeger,” Jemma says contemplatively, glancing between Colleen and Misty. “Am I getting that feeling correctly, love?”

“I mean, I don’t know you guys super well, but based on what I know, yeah, I think so.” Skye grins. “If you want, I could help you name it. I’m super super good at that.”

“I’m missing something,” says Misty, who is the only one in this group who has somehow managed to avoid seeing the film in question.

“Oh my god, have you not seen _Pacific Rim_?” Skye’s eyes go wide. “Dude, I’m sorry! I mean, I know you were off getting snacks when I asked Colleen about it, but the invitation’s for you too. It’s set in the future where giant monsters come out of the sea and wreak havoc, so governments built giant mecha robots to fight them. And multiple people have to be inside them to pilot them, and only people who work super well together can be pilots. It’s called drifting. Jemma and I could do it, but it doesn’t have to be romantic.”

“Plus it stars a Japanese girl,” Colleen chimes in. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, that does sound like it could be a lot of fun,” Misty says. “I’m not the best at seeing movies unless someone makes me, is all.”

“Well, now Skye’s definitely going to make you,” Bobbi remarks.

“It’s the best,” Skye repeats.

“Unlike some things you force people to watch, which are a whole different category,” Bobbi smirks. To Misty and Colleen she says, “Connoisseur of bad movies, right here.”

“Hey! You made us watch the _Star Wars Holiday Special_ ,” Skye points out, sticking out her tongue playfully.

“That’s classically bad,” Bobbi insists.

Colleen frowns. “The what now?”

“You’re up, nerd.” Skye grins at Bobbi.

“So in 1978 someone thought it would be a great idea to combine _Star Wars_ and Christmas, and do it as a made-for-TV event, no less,” Bobbi says. “Only it’s _Star Wars_ , so they don’t technically have Christmas, so they made up this thing called Life Day that’s celebrated by mostly Wookiees. The first twenty minutes are just comprised of Wookiees. No subtitles.”

Colleen blinks. “Wookiees? Like...just Chewbacca roaring at other Wookiees?”

“Yup,” says Skye. “It’s a fucking endurance test. I mean, we made it, but only ‘cause she dared us.”

“And there was alcohol,” Jemma chimes in. “The alcohol helped. Bea Arthur is there.”

“Say what,” Misty deadpans. “Like, _Golden Girls_ Bea Arthur.”

“She sings a song,” Jemma agrees.

“It’s almost okay,” says Skye. “Sort of. But c’mon, you guys make each other watch shitty things all the time, right? That’s what you do when you’re dating someone.”

Misty glances at Colleen, looking startled, and Colleen coughs. “Um,” she says, looking back at Misty. “I’ve shown her a couple of really bad kung fu movies. Which there is no shortage of, by the way. Did you know there’s one about Bruce Lee dying and going to hell?”

“Bruce Lee the actor, playing a character in hell?” Bobbi asks.

“No, no, actual Bruce Lee, played by a guy who basically made a living off of playing Bruce Lee expys in movies,” Colleen explains, grinning at the confused looks from everyone. “He ends up meeting a bunch of random people in hell, like Laurel and Hardy, Dracula, and Clint Eastwood. And he gets a blowjob from a porn star.”

“Oh my god,” says Skye, pulling out her phone. “What’s this movie called, because I need to watch it immediately.”

“But Clint Eastwood isn’t dead,” Jemma says, because clearly that’s the part to get hung up on.

“I hope you’re not going to make us do this,” Bobbi says, nudging Skye.

“ _The Dragon Lives Again,_ ” Colleen says. “I could bring it when we come to watch _Pacific Rim_ , if you want.”

“Yes!” Skye cheers, as Bobbi and Jemma groan in unison.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, hey, congrats by the way,” Mike’s saying to Laura and Clint. “About the wedding and baby and stuff.”

“Thanks,” Laura says, scrunching up her nose. “I’ll be glad when it’s all happened and we’re into the living-our-lives phase instead of the planning one, I admit.’

Mike laughs. “Yeah, I get that. It’s gonna be kind of shitty at first ‘cause you’re not gonna sleep much, but it’s worth it.”

“Um,” Clint says, “can I like...text you stuff if I have questions? ‘Cause you’ve done all this before.” He shrugs, kind of helplessly. “I’m kinda flying blind here.”

“Everybody is,” Mike reassures him. “But yeah, sure, I can give you some tips.”

“Thank you.” Clint looks a little more relieved.

“I think he’s freaking out about nothing,” Laura says, chuckling. “He’s going to be fine. We’re going to figure it out.”

Mike nods. “Yup. You guys’ll be okay, promise. Everything works out.”

“I believe you will be excellent parents!” says Thor cheerfully.

Clint laughs. “Well, thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, how is Ace feeling about _Wonder Woman_?” Jane asks Mike. “I’ve been hearing pretty good things, so maybe he won’t have to rewrite this one?”

Mike nods. “He’s looking forward to it, actually. The trailers look good. I’d love it if there was at least one good one.” He laughs and adds, “He saw the costume they’re putting on Aquaman’s wife Mera and talked for ten minutes straight about how it looked like it came from Party City.”

Clint winces and says, “Yikes. I haven’t seen pictures yet, is it that bad?”

“It’s...not great? Aquaman’s his favorite, so.” Mike shrugs. “But he’s excited about _Wonder Woman_ anyway.”

“As are we!” Thor says, grinning. “Jane and I have purchased tickets for opening night.”

“Same,” Laura says, nodding to Clint. “Kind of the principle of the thing, at this point.”

“Yeah, totally,” agrees Mike. “My Spanish class starts on the Monday after, so this’ll be good hangout time for us.”

“Props to you for having the energy for intensive language stuff,” Darcy says, sipping her beer. “I kind of like summer classes but doing a whole year of a language in a month and a half sounds kind of like hell.”

“It’ll be a challenge, but I figure it’ll be good for work. Or other stuff, whenever I decide to move on. Plus, Ace has like a kids’ Spanish class during the school year so we can practice with each other.”

“Aw, cute,” says Clint. “Hey, if you ever need babysitting help, we can take him for a few hours once we, y’know, find a new place.”

“Thanks! I might take you up on that. How’s it going, the house-hunting?” Mike asks.

“He won’t let me help at all,” Laura complains playfully. “Apparently I’m too pregnant.”

“Hey, you don’t need the extra stress,” Clint says, squeezing her hand. “I’ve got it under control. There’s a couple places we’re going to look at this week.”

“Best of luck,” Thor says. “From what I have observed watching house-hunting shows, it seems to be a difficult process.”

“Just don’t get hung up on man caves and you’ll be fine,” Darcy says. “Or granite countertops, or stainless steel appliances, or closets. And don’t worry if there are stairs, because your baby isn’t going to fall down the stairs and if you think they might there are guardrails for that sort of thing.”

Clint looks sort of startled. “Oh,” he says, like maybe he hadn’t thought of that and is now imagining all the things that could go wrong with stairs. “Okay.”

“Seriously, there’s like half a dozen other cliches to look out for,” Darcy adds. “But also, no offense, I’ve seen your apartment and I kind of doubt you’re going to get too fussy about most of that crap.”

 

* * *

 

Fitz, since he quickly excused himself after he, Jemma, Skye, and Bobbi arrived, has been slowly wandering around the outskirts of the party, nursing a beer and sulking. He hasn’t really talked to Jemma since the Poland offer came up, and mostly he’s just been stewing about it by himself, sure she’s upset with him about it. Honestly, he’s not sure how he feels. It seems like the opportunity of a lifetime, but…

His wanderings take him over to a bench, strategically positioned in the shade of a large tree. Aida’s sitting on it, but he hopes maybe since they’re sitting alone, they won’t feel like making small talk either. “Mind if I sit down?” he asks.

They tilt their head. “You can sit,” they say, and before they can stop themselves their instinct to solve problems kicks in and they add, “Are you alright?”

He sighs. “I dunno. Just...thinking about a lot of stuff, I guess.”

“It must be serious,” they say. “You don’t usually keep to yourself this much.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Fitz replies. “But Jemma, she’s...she’s angry with me and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“What makes you think she’s angry?” Aida asks.

“Well, I haven’t talked to her in the last couple days because it makes me anxious, but she hasn’t tried to talk to _me_ much either. And then she and Skye and Bobbi went off with some other girls tonight. It’s all because I got an offer to study abroad - I almost wish I hadn’t, if I knew it was going to cause so much trouble-” Fitz shakes his head. “Anyway. I think she’s upset that I’m thinking about leaving.”

“Ah.” Aida watches him for a moment, then says, “Sometimes picking up and starting over is the best thing to do, even if it’s difficult. It was for me.”

“Yeah?” Fitz eyes them. “I don’t know what to do, honestly.”

“Think over your options,” they say. “Ultimately, it’s your decision to make, but that doesn’t mean you should try to make it entirely on your own.” They offer a friendly smile. “And I don’t mean to presume, but it’s possible nobody is angry. You two care for each other, she may well just be as anxious as you are about all of this.”

Fitz tilts his head. “I suppose so. I just assumed...well, anyway. Thank you.” He smiles nervously. “I don’t mean to ramble at you, we barely know each other.”

“I’ve always been comfortable helping people clean up their messes,” Aida replies pleasantly.


	149. 'cause I have sent for a warrior from on my knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony rented out the theater for everyone to see _Wonder Woman_. Then he rented out the Applebee's after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DC made a good movie for once go see it. No spoilers here, though!

“I’m getting pretty tired of having to always be ‘the Scottish one,’” grumbles Fitz, angrily dipping a mozzarella stick in sauce.

“You are the Scottish one,” says Bobbi, sipping her beer.

“I’m _Scottish_ ,” Fitz corrects. “That doesn’t mean I want to be _every_ Scottish person!”

“Hey, but this guy’s a sniper,” Skye points out, grinning. “He’s cool!”

“Yeah, but he spends half the movie not doing anything!”

“Most of them spent half the movie not doing anything,” Jemma points out, plenty aloof.

Skye shrugs. “Hey, it’s better than the Kanjiklub guy.”

Fitz sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. Well, even with you lot _nudging_ me during every scene with him, I still enjoyed it.”

“It’s perfect,” Jemma declares, her tone somewhere between enthused and “well, obviously you enjoyed it, how couldn’t you.”

“She kind of reminded me of this girl from the Tulip City derby team,” Bobbi remarks wryly. “Good kisser. Shame Wonder Woman was stuck kissing Captain Kirk.”

Audrey, who’s been hanging with Bobbi all night but not saying much, raises an eyebrow. She’s still learning how to navigate things like this, not that she’s upset. “At least we didn’t have to watch them kissing too much,” she says.

“Yeah, he was okay,” says Trip with a shrug. “Could’ve been worse. Nice abs.”

“Also like, all the Amazons are gay anyway so whatever,” shrugs Skye. “And Diana’s canon bi. The comic just said so like last year.”

Jemma smirks. “Can we scream that out to the world so the randoms don’t forget?”

Kara and Karen come strolling by their booth, drinks in hand, and Kara grins. “Hey, everyone,” she shouts at the Applebee’s full of their mall peers. “Don’t forget, Diana Prince is bisexual!”

Karen squeezes her girlfriend’s hand. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kara replies, tossing her hair.

“You guys are sappy,” Bobbi remarks, but she’s clearly not meaning anything bad by it.

“Thanks,” Karen and Kara chorus.

“Hey guys!” Trip says. “Guessing you had fun too.”

“Lots of fun,” Karen agrees. “It’s really cool that Tony rented out the whole theater for us.”

“Tony has more money than sense,” Kara points out wryly. “He rented out the theater because he wanted people to like him. Technically because Rhodey suggested it, but it’s a way to make people like him.”

“Hey, free movie, I’m not complaining,” Bobbi remarks.

“I mean I was gonna go anyway,” says Skye, “but yeah, sweet deal for us.”

 

* * *

 

“You seem happy, Sif,” Thor says, half-joking.

Sif has been beaming since they left the theater. “I couldn’t be happier,” she says.

Melinda smirks. “Cute.”

“And you seem happy as well, my darling,” Thor says, leaning over to kiss Jane’s cheek.

“I am,” Jane agrees. “It was just… really fun. I’m surprised, especially after… the other movies.”

Volstagg chuckles. “Yes, I will be perfectly alright with taking the older two to this movie. Alaric liked some of the action scenes in the last one, but they both got pretty bored with it. I don’t think that’ll be a problem with this one.”

“I didn’t think the last one was that bad,” Fandral says, and is met with a chorus of jeers.

“Present company excluded, you don’t have great taste,” Linnea points out.

Fandral makes an indignant noise, but Hogun adds, “You also kept saying how hot she was.”

“She _was!_ ” Fandral protests.

“Yes, but we don’t want to hear about it in the middle of the movie,” Sif says, rolling her eyes.

“Repeatedly,” Linnea adds.

“Fine, fine,” says Fandral. “I enjoyed it for _other_ reasons as well!”

“Glad to hear it,” says Melinda dryly.

 

* * *

 

“You’d think more people would be coming over here,” says Tony, playing with the wrapper from his straw and sulking. “What I did, that was pretty cool.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “You know that wasn’t the point, right?”

“Everyone had a good time,” Pepper says. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess that’s good.” Tony shrugs. “I just thought maybe it would...I dunno, maybe somebody would wanna come over and talk afterwards.”

“Talk, or _talk_?” Pepper asks skeptically.

“Either way.” Tony takes a sip of his drink. “I’m not picky.”

“Well, _that’s_ a lie,” Rhodey says. “But you gotta remember, people don’t have to come hang out with you because you do nice things for them. That’s kinda not how it works. Pepper and I hang out with you because we like you.”

“Usually,” Pepper adds, because she can’t let Tony get too arrogant.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony says kind of sadly. “But I can’t figure out how to get people to like me without buying them stuff.”

Rhodey coughs. “Maybe don’t assume you’re entitled to their attention?”

“But that’s _hard_ ,” protests Tony.

“Yeah. You kinda have to be the kind of person who other people like and respect,” Rhodey points out.

“More of a person and less of a cartoon,” Pepper clarifies.

“But people like cartoons,” Tony points out.

“On TV,” says Rhodey. “Not in real life.”

“It’s hard to know how to act with people who have large personalities,” Pepper says. “Not everyone is adaptable as the two of us, and they don’t have to be.”

Tony frowns. “But I thought to make friends you were supposed to be yourself.”

“Yeah, but you also have to be the best version of yourself,” says Rhodey. “Not the one who sulks because nobody’s coming over to talk to him.”

“And we’re not saying you have to be _the best_ , either,” Pepper adds. “That really doesn’t go over well sometimes, if you have to win at everything, or if you see everything as something _to_ win.”

“Oh,” says Tony. He looks like maybe he’s actually thinking about that, for once.

Pepper raises an eyebrow at Rhodey. She’s not sure this’ll be the time that sticks, because it never is, but it would be nice to dream.

Rhodey shrugs at her, kind of hopefully, and then says to Tony, “So, now that we’ve gotten the serious shit out of the way, you want another drink?”

“Rhodey,” Tony scoffs, “it’s me. You never have to ask.”

 

* * *

 

“I think Diana’s a good name,” Clint is saying excitedly to Laura.

“We don’t even know if I’m having a girl or a boy,” Laura points out. “Or what.”

“Well, if it’s a girl,” says Clint cheerfully.

Natasha smirks. “I thought you were gonna name your first girl after Betty Cooper.”

Clint blinks. “Oh Jesus. I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“I don’t forget _any_ blackmail information.”

“Elizabeth is a nice, classic name,” Steve says, trying to be diplomatic.

“I didn’t know that,” Laura remarks, raising an eyebrow.

Clint glares at Natasha in a _now look what you did_ way and then coughs. “I, uh, I liked _Archie_ comics as a kid. And Betty was cool. Way nicer than Veronica.”

“I mean, I guess that’s true,” Laura concedes, chuckling. “You’re cute.”

Clint shrugs. “Aw shucks.”

“So, by the way,” Natasha says, “your bachelor party. Next Saturday evening work for you?”

“Um, I think so.” Clint’s eyes widen. “You’re not getting me like, strippers, right?”

“No, I remember the last time I brought you to a strip club,” says Natasha, snorting. “Laura, did I ever tell you about that?”

“Um, no,” Laura exclaims. “When was _that_?”

“Oh, it was while he was in college,” Natasha replies. “He survived finals and I was like, hey, let’s go to the strip club to celebrate. Well, it turned into an evening of me flirting with basically every girl there while he just looked like a scared deer. Dork.”

“I didn’t want to take advantage!” protests Clint. “I mean, if they want to be there, that’s their business, but I didn’t want to be a skeezy dude about it.”

Natasha shrugs. “He’s better than me. I got a pretty good lap dance out of the evening.”

“Didn’t he try to pay for someone’s college education?” Sharon asks. To Laura she adds, “This is all hearsay, on my part.”

“He offered for a few of them,” says Natasha, “which considering he was buying the dollar mac and cheese and not much else, foodwise, that was a riot all on its own. Besides, at least a couple of them were either in school or had graduated and that was a side gig. Nice thought, though.”

“You’re still cute,” Laura says to Clint, “but you’re also a dork. A giant dork.”

Clint grins. “Hey, I mean, it’s earning me points now!”

“Anyway,” says Natasha, “bachelor party. Saturday evening, five PM. No strippers. James’ house.”

“Cool,” says Clint, still looking a little nervous. “I’ll, uh, be there.”

“And you can bring Lucky if you want,” says Bucky. “Mine would love to hang out with him.”

“Oh, sure. That’s a good way to make sure he doesn’t destroy anything, actually.” Clint grins.

“Should be fun,” says Sam with a glint in his eye.

“Something about the way you say that makes me glad I’m going to be elsewhere,” Laura says.

“Your friends are doing something for you, right?” Natasha asks. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I don’t,” Laura promises. “Some of the girls from the library are taking me out. To somewhere that also does not have strippers.”

“Yeah, I can’t see you being the stripper type either,” teases Sam. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Laura chirps. “I’m not sure… where we’re going that’s not a strip club, but somewhere. Probably nothing crazy.”

“Ours won’t be _crazy_ ,” says Natasha, too innocently.

“Great,” mutters Clint. “Why did I let you plan this again?”

“Because that’s what best friends do.”

 

* * *

 

“...and she kept doing odd little movements with her fingers and hands, and I just thought a lot of her behaviors were very familiar, either reminiscent of my own behavior or Pietro’s,” Wanda says. She’s been talking for the last couple minutes straight, so she takes a long drink.

Hope grins, nudging Wanda fondly. “I think that’s great, you’re great,” she murmurs.

Wanda smiles nervously. “Thank you,” she says, touching Hope’s arm. “It just occurred to me about halfway through that she might be read as autistic and then I started looking, and then it seemed obvious to me.”

“I never would have thought of that, but that’s really cool,” Trish declares, twirling her straw idly. “You explain it really well, too. Is that weird to say?”

“No, thank you for saying so. I’m never sure if I explain things well or if they only make sense to me.” Wanda shrugs.

“You did fine, I think,” says Luke. “Definitely interesting to hear about.”

“Pretty much all of her ideas are,” Hope says, leaning against Wanda gently. She’s already most of her margarita down and getting even more affectionate than usual.

“Ew,” says Jessica, wrinkling her nose, but there’s not really any bite to it.

“Sap happens from time to time,” Trish says wryly. “I think it’s endearing.”

Hope blushes. “Thanks, I guess?”

“You guys are pretty cute,” says Colleen, grinning. “How long have you been dating?”

“Just over a year,” says Wanda, blushing a little. “It doesn’t really feel like it though.”

“It doesn’t,” Hope agrees. “In a good way.”

“Aww,” coos Colleen. “Adorable. Congratulations and stuff.”

“Always kinda funny when the babies are the ones who have it together best,” Misty remarks.

Wanda shrugs. “I don’t know that we have anything ‘together’ especially. We don’t really work at it. It just kind of...works.”

Pietro rolls his eyes. ‘It is because you talk about _everything_. I hear them sometimes at night when Hope stays over,” he adds. “So much talking.”

“You also talk a lot,” retorts Wanda.

“The talking helps,” Hope muses, “but it’s not like we do it consciously. It’s just how we are.”

“Hey, if it works for you,” Misty remarks.

“I think we could probably all stand to do _more_ talking,” says Malcolm, grinning lazily. “It might help avoid misunderstandings and stuff.”

“ _Ew,_ ” Jessica says, taking a swig of her beer. “Please, no.”

“It’s truly astounding the lengths to which this woman will go to avoid talking sometimes,” Trish says, rolling her eyes at Jessica.

Jessica grunts. “Don’t like it, that’s all.”

“Yeah, we know,” Luke says fondly. “Me neiher. At least Trish likes talking.”

“Someone has to,” Trish teases.


	150. if my hands could hold them you'd see, I'd take all these secrets in me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha hosts a bachelor party for Clint.

“Oh my god,” says Clint when he sees Bucky’s backyard. “Are _all_ these balloons condoms?”

Natasha gives him a shit-eating grin. “Sure are.”

“We even drew on some of them to make them extra-festive,” Sharon chimes in, waving a bouquet of smiley-face condom balloons.

Clint facepalms. “I should’ve known.”

Lucky, meanwhile, has trotted over to greet Callie, who barks excitedly and bounces around him. “Glad the kids are getting along,” jokes Bucky.

“There’s cheese and crackers over there,” Sam suggests, waving his hand toward the snack table. “Or, y’know. Chips and beer. Whatever you want.”

“You already know what I’m gonna pick,” Clint says good-naturedly, going over to grab a beer and plateful of chips and dip.

“They’re pretty good crackers,” Steve says, sort of playful. “And it’s not exactly super-healthy cheese. I think you’d manage.”

“Oh, let him live a little,” teases Natasha. “It’s his bachelor party.”

“Notice I’m not _forcing_ ,” Steve counters. “Just offering.” He grins at Sam, clearly hoping to curry favor.

Sam smirks. “Suckup,” he teases, reaching over to give Steve a kiss.

“Guilty,” Steve concedes, smug as anything.

“So who else is coming?” Clint asks.

“Bobbi, and she’s bringing her two ‘cause I guess they’ve been having a shitty time lately,” says Natasha. “Wanda, Pietro, and that’s about it.”

“Cool, cool. Till they get here, did you guys have any embarrassing shit you wanted to do to me?”

Sharon smirks. “We’re gonna save the embarrassing shit for an audience,” she says.

“Oh good. I should’ve known.”

A few minutes pass full of amiable banter before Bobbi appears at the fence to the backyard and then enters without waiting for permission, Skye and Jemma trailing behind her shyly. “The irony has arrived,” she announces with a smirk.

“And the irony’s hangers-on,” Jemma adds.

“Hey,” Skye says, seeming more subdued than usual.

“You guys okay?” Sam asks. “You just seem...down.”

“Fitz left for Poland a couple of days ago,” Jemma sighs.

Skye nods. “We’ve both been feeling kinda weird about it. We spent yesterday hanging out with Trip but he wanted to be alone today. Sorry to crash your bachelor party,” she adds to Clint with a shaky smile.

“I figured it would be okay,” Bobbi says, an obvious warning in her voice.

“Oh, no, it’s totally fine, glad to have you guys.” Clint grins at them. “Sorry about your friend leaving.”

“It’s alright,” Jemma says, putting on a big fake smile for a second. “He’s doing what he feels is best for him.”

“It’s still hard,” Steve says consolingly. “Want any snacks or beer? There’s stuff over here.” He motions to the snack table.

Skye perks up a little bit and grabs a plateful of chips. “You want anything?” she asks Jemma.

“Surprise me, you know what I like,” Jemma says. “Is it okay if I go… dogs? Your dogs are very cute.”

“Oh, totally,” nods Bucky. “Callie and Lucky are over there running around, and I think Apollo and Artemis are sleeping.” He waves his hand over to where the two larger dogs are laying down cuddled up together. “Feel free to go bug them, they like belly rubs.”

Jemma nods eagerly. “Hope they don’t mind the vague smell of antisocial kittens,” she hums, going over to pet the dogs.

“What’s the plan for tonight, anyway?” Bobbi asks, mostly directing it at Natasha.

“Stupid games, alcohol, and making fun of the groom here,” Natasha says, grinning over at Clint.

“Oh great,” says Clint, shrugging good-naturedly.

Wanda and Pietro come in, Wanda looking a bit more nervous than Pietro. “Hi,” Pietro says, immediately going over to the snacks. “Congratulations, I think we are supposed to say.”

“Thanks, kid,” says Clint. “Nice to see you guys.”

“I’ve never been to a bachelor party,” says Wanda. “Or...anything to do with a wedding, really.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

“Don’t worry, this one’s gonna be pretty low-key,” Natasha replies. “Clint doesn’t like most of the stuff you’re ‘supposed’ to do at bachelor parties, so we’re gonna just basically drink and embarrass the shit out of him.”

Bobbi waves, chuckling. “Hence, I assume, my invitation,” she says.  

Wanda grins. “Oh, I think I can do that, probably.”

“So now that everybody’s here, you should grab some booze if you want it,” Natasha says, “and we’ll do our first game: embarrassing Clint stories!”

“Oh god,” groans Clint. “Don’t you have like hours’ worth of those?”

“Oh, mine are coming later,” Natasha says mischievously. “Everybody _else_ goes first. Or if you don’t have one, you can just tell your favorite story involving him. But it’s better if it’s embarrassing.”

Bobbi settles down beside Jemma, giving the dogs in her reach a couple of scritches before she asks, “Did I ever tell all of you how Clint and I met?”

“Tell us,” Jemma says eagerly.

“Well,” Bobbi says, “we were in college, right, and I was involved in hall government stuff, which in my case usually meant doing my best to solve really low-level student crimes. So I was trying to figure out who was leaving this really shitty graffiti in the girls’ restrooms, and I got it narrowed down to a few people - comparing handwriting and schedules and motivations and stuff - and it turned out one of my prime suspects was Clint’s girlfriend. She was a real asshole.”

“Jesus,” Clint mutters. “I’d forgotten about her.”

“So whoever it was had been writing all this nasty stuff about other people all over campus, and I was sniffing around the suspects, trying to sort everything out,” Bobbi continues. “I went to talk to Clint, who I knew _of_ but didn’t know, friends of friends and stuff, and he proceeded to yell at me that she couldn’t _possibly_ have done any of that, then break down crying at the thought of it.”

“And you didn’t run the other way screaming?” Skye asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because no offense Clint, I would have _absolutely_ run the other way screaming.”

“It was actually kind of endearing,” Bobbi admits. “He really cared about her, or at least he cared that he’d cared about someone who was such a shithead. I get being upset about having bad taste, ha-ha, I know. And maybe I felt a little bad for him, so when he suggested we get coffee I didn’t want to say no.”

Clint pouts. “You said you liked my jokes too.”

“Ultimately, yes, I did enjoy some of your jokes,” Bobbi concedes. “But you have to admit you were a little ridiculous.”

“Well, Sheila was my first serious girlfriend!” Clint protests. “But I probably was, yeah.”

“I’m not saying I don’t get it, a little,” Bobbi says. “It just probably should have been a clue for both of us that we deal with things very differently.” To the others she adds, in a dramatic fake-whisper, “And he deals with them ridiculously.”

“We had no idea,” Bucky says dryly.

“He explained a redneck wine glass to me once,” Pietro says, grinning. “And most of the amusing shirts at Fuego. I still don’t understand the point of most of them, but he was very obliging about it.”

“The first time he offered to walk Callie, he didn’t listen when I told her about how fast she goes when she’s chasing something,” says Bucky. “And that he shouldn’t wrap the leash around his hand. He had to chase her all up and down the block, and his hand was all fucked up for like a week afterwards, right?”

Clint winces. “‘Bout that, yeah. It’s helped when I’m walking that asshole, though.” He nods over at Lucky. “I mean, he gets away from me too, but I know better than to fuck up my hand again.”

“Small mercies,” Jemma says shyly, glancing up from the dog (Apollo) currently sprawled out with his head in her lap. “Remember the Music Meister?”

Wanda giggles. “I think that’s my favorite memory of him. It was really fun being with him on set, and coaxing him into singing.” She grins mischievously at Clint. “You really have a perfectly fine voice, you know.”

Clint is blushing. “Thanks,” he says sheepishly. “Still not sure how I got talked into that.”

“Because you can’t say no to ten-year-olds, that makes you an asshole,” Natasha teases.

“And that suit was very dashing,” Jemma adds, eyes glinting playfully.

“If you bastards show pictures of me in that suit at my wedding, I’m gonna ban you from the open bar,” says Clint, but he doesn’t seem serious.

“Can I bring pictures of your sexy firefighter from Halloween senior year?” Bobbi asks.

“Oh my god,” Sharon murmurs, sounding awed.

“Why do you still _have_ those?” asks Clint, looking horrified.

 

* * *

 

“So, who wants to hear a story about the one and only time Clint ever smoked weed?” Natasha asks, in the middle of the condom balloon dart game.

“Yes,” Jemma and Skye say in unison.

“We went to some party that he got invited to by someone in one of his classes,” says Natasha, “which should have been his first clue that he shouldn’t have been there-”

“I was being friendly!” says Clint.

“Anyway, so I checked out the refreshments table, and told him not to eat any of the brownies. Take a wild guess why. And he says, ‘Fuck you, I’m gonna eat three brownies!’ and then he did.”

“You should only eat brownies if you know where they came from,” Steve says solemnly, in his best instructive Smokey the Bear-type voice.

Clint gives him a withering stare. “Thanks, man. I’ll definitely keep that in mind at the next college party I go to.”

“There was _no_ way I was supervising him at a party while he was high off his ass, so I dragged him home and sat with him while he tripped balls for the next four hours. I got to hear a whole lot about his theories regarding life, the universe, and everything.” Natasha grins. “I think I still have some of it recorded somewhere.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” Clint says with a shrug. “She might be making it all up.”

“I think that’s a pretty good argument that she’s not,” Skye points out.

Pietro tosses a dart and hits one of the balloons in the middle of the board. “Got it!” he says triumphantly.

“Good shot,” Bobbi says, actually sounding a little impressed. “But yeah, Clint’s never been great at holding his… anything. He’s lucky I never bothered to upload any of the videos of his drunk dancing to my computer.”

Clint grins. “Hey, I can do ‘Single Ladies’ perfectly! That’s not a skill everyone has. Don’t knock it.”

“That’s not the dancing I’m hypothetically threatening to expose,” Bobbi smirks, throwing a dart of her own.

At that, Clint turns white. “What? Bob, what dancing are you talking about?”

“Oh, I seem to remember one time you decided to perform all of the choreography to _Chicago_ ,” Bobbi says. “But alas, that will have to remain a blissful memory. The receipts are lost to the ravages of time and old phones.”

“Jesus,” says Clint. “I _really_ don’t remember that.”

“Too bad,” says Pietro with a giggle. “That sounds amusing.”

 

* * *

 

Once they’ve all (or mostly) had a good amount of booze, Natasha announces the next game: trivia based on Clint’s various mishaps. “I have little whiteboards you can write your guesses on, and it’s either fill in the blank or multiple choice.”

“See if I ever tell you _anything_ again,” mutters Clint.

Natasha passes out the boards and markers and then starts reading off a list of questions. “What bone did Clint break by trying to somersault off the roof when he was ten? Leg, arm, or skull?”

“What exactly were you trying to accomplish?” Sam asks Clint.

Clint shrugs. “I dunno. I think I was trying something I saw an acrobat do on TV.”

After giving them all a minute to write down the answers, Natasha announces, “Skull!”

“It’s an unexplainable miracle that you’re not dead,” Bobbi says, deadpan.

“Injuries to skulls aren’t fatal nearly as often as people think,” Jemma pipes up. She’s on her third beer, and between that and the joy that gratuitous attention from dogs brings she’s quite flushed. “So it’s not really a surprise he managed to make it out of that one all right. But probably you’re referring to his general recklessness, which, I suppose you’d know better than most.”

“You’re getting feisty,” Bobbi observes, amused.

Skye snickers. “I think the beer is helping with that.”

“Mayyybe,” Jemma says, leaning over to requisition kisses from the both of them.

“ _Grooooss_ ,” Sharon croons, clearly not finding it gross at all.

Bucky grins. “Oh no, not kissing. That’s horrible. How dare they.”

Natasha snorts and then reads the next question. “Fill in the blank: Clint got detention in school how many times? Whoever’s closest gets this one.”

“And this is an estimate,” Clint adds quickly. “It’s not like I kept track.”

Jemma starts figuring out the math of how many possible detentions he _could_ have received hypothetically, versus how many he did, which makes Skye nudge her and say fondly, “You’re a nerd, y’know. It’s adorable.”

“That’s what I’m banking on,” Jemma replies smugly.

“Now, is this how many detentions he was assigned or how many days he was physically _in_ detention?” Sharon asks, smirking evilly. “Because I know sometimes really hardcore shit would get you stuck there for a week, or something. From hearsay, because I never got detention.”

“I was gonna say,” says Natasha to her. “I know you were a teacher’s pet.” She winks.

Sharon rolls her shoulders. “Didn’t answer my question.”

“How many days he actually went,” Natasha clarifies.

When everyone’s written an answer, Natasha gives the answer. “200, give or take. This was spread out over his elementary, middle, and high school years, so it’s not as bad as it _could_ be.”

“I’m impressed that he managed to think of 200, give or take, ways to _get_ detention,” Bobbi remarks. “Not that it surprises me.”

“Some of them were just for being late or cutting class,” says Clint, shrugging. “But there was the time with the senior prank and the cow. That got me a week.” He grins and adds, “No regrets, it was an awesome prank.”

“What did you do to a poor cow?” Steve asks, laughing.

“I mean, we just put her in the English teacher’s room. She was totally fine, we gave her food and water and stuff. Mr. Fleming wasn’t so chill about it, but I heard people still talk about it sometimes, so people agree it was a good prank.”

“Ooh, here’s a recent one,” Natasha says. “How many times did I have to talk Clint down from proposing to Laura before he actually did it? Five, seven, or ten?”

“I hope it isn’t ten,” Wanda says, eyes wide. “That is so many times.”

It turns out to be seven. “I just really love her,” Clint says sheepishly.

Sam snickers. “I mean, at this point I _hope_ you do. Otherwise you’re kinda fucked.”


	151. come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you, and I'll stay there as long as you let me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Laura's wedding is just as ridiculous as everyone expects.

“Bets on how many cheesy love songs they put on the playlist?” Natasha asks, adjusting the top of her dress.

“Approximately four hours’ worth,” Sharon says without missing a beat.

“A hundred,” says Bucky.

“Dude, that’s like six and a half hours of music,” Sam says. “I guess twenty five.”

Bucky shrugs. “I flunked math, fuck off.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly and adjusts his tie. “I mean, if every song was only two minutes long, or something, it could be done,” he declares.

“When have you ever known a love song to be brief?” Sharon counters.

“Hypothetically,” Steve replies lightly.

Natasha snorts. “Any guesses, Rogers?”

“80%,” Steve replies.

“Noted,” Natasha says, grinning. “I’m saying fifty. Closest guess, give or take, gets to boss the others around for a day.”

“Ooh,” Sam says. “Sounds fun.”

“Dangerous offer,” Sharon remarks. “You’re pretty confident if you’re making it.”

Natasha’s about to respond, but Clint runs in flailing around. “How do you tie a bowtie?” he asks helplessly.

“You’ve never tied a bowtie?” Sharon asks, though she doesn’t sound all that surprised.

Clint looks sheepish. “I used a clip-on at prom.”

“I’m sure it was a lovely evening anyway,” Sharon deadpans.

“Do you want my help or would you rather one of the guys do it?” Natasha asks.

“Either way.” Clint shrugs. “Sorry.”

“C’mere, nerd.” When he steps forward, she starts tying it. “I guess if this is the only crisis you’re having at this point, we’re doing okay.”

“Hey! I got the rest of it on okay! This part is just hard.”

Bucky snickers. “Hard.”

Clint laughs, but it sounds nervous. “Do I look okay?” he asks the others.

“You look fine, dude,” Sam says. “It’s not like she’s gonna not marry you if your hair looks a little dumb.”

Looking startled, Clint says, “That hasn’t ever happened before, right?”

“Not if the relationship wasn’t already a little twisted,” Sharon says. “Which yours, surprisingly, isn’t.”

“Wow, rude,” says Clint, grinning.

“But accurate,” replies Natasha, stepping back to look at his bowtie. “Okay, I think that’s good.”

“Oh, where’s Lucky?”

Bucky points to the corner of the room, where Lucky is happily gnawing on a rope toy. “All good to go. Pizza’s been ordered, should be here right before the ceremony.”

“I’m guessing that’s not something that gets said very often around here,” Steve quips.

“It was the only way I could think of to get him to stay focused!” says Clint. “If he knows there’s pizza up at the altar, he won’t wander off to sniff somebody’s purse or something.”

“Ah yes, the best possible solution,” says Natasha dryly.

 

* * *

 

“I’m just… I’m so glad you all could be here,” Laura sighs rhapsodically, glancing at her bridal party (all library employees/volunteers/frequent patrons). “It really means a lot.”

Cassandra grins, bringing Laura a refill on her glass of juice without being asked. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she says seriously. “This is so exciting!”

“Yeah, thank you for letting us all be a part of your wedding,” Myka says. “Even if, um.” She gestures vaguely to herself. “I’m still not great at getting all fancy, sorry.”

“You’re fine!” Laura promises, waving a hand. “And it really does help having at least _one_ person in the party who’s already done this deal.”

Myka laughs. “Please. Helena and I practically eloped compared to you guys. This is amazing!”

“Yeah, but I’m still a little hurt you guys didn’t let me hook up a sick laser lightshow for you two,” teases Ezekiel. “It would’ve been awesome!”

“What, ours?” asks Myka with a snort. “That would’ve been ridiculous.”

“Yours, Laura’s, anybody’s.” Ezekiel shrugs. “Cassandra, if Eve ever pops the question…?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“It’s not me you’d have to worry about convincing,” Cassandra says. “ _I_ wouldn’t mind a tasteful light display.”

“You can set one up for me, if I ever wind up tying the knot,” says Vijay. “My husband is going to have to love lightshows and anything else obnoxious enough to convince my sister to stay the hell away.”

Felicity snorts. “Hey, at least she hasn’t called you in a couple weeks, right?”

“Thank goodness for that,” Vijay says, rolling his eyes showily.

“You feeling okay?” Felicity asks Laura. “Not wanting to back out?” She grins so Laura knows she’s kidding.

“Psh,” Laura says, very eloquently. “Not that everyone in _my condition_ has to do this, but it’s making me, personally, very impatient.”

“No offense, but I don’t envy you,” Vijay says. “I’m sure I’m going to love _your_ kid, but I’m way too young to want to have to worry about them.”

“Yeah,” agrees Myka. “I mean, I’m never gonna have to worry about surprise pregnancy, on purpose, but you seem to be handling it okay.”

Laura laughs. “I mean, I know we were gonna wind up doing this anyway, so I’m just adjusting the timeline, or whatever,” she says. “Not really loving some of the physical side-effects, but it’s not forever.”

“Just take comfort in the fact that you’re not an elephant,” Cassandra says sagely.

“Because…?” Laura asks, amused.

“Because then you’d be pregnant for more than three times as many months per pregnancy,” Cassandra announces. “Twenty-three, to be exact. Also your baby would weigh hundreds of pounds.”

“Yikes,” Laura says. “Yeah, small mercies there.”

Ezekiel winces. “Tough break for the elephants. Anyhow, is there anything else you need us to do, Laura?”

Laura glances at the clock and gives a nervous laugh. “It looks like it’s almost time,” she says. “Let’s go get in our places.”

 

* * *

 

Clint’s groomspeople (Natasha and all of her partners) are walking down the aisle, followed by Clint, who looks more uncomfortable in his formalwear than the other five put together. And after just a second of listening, Darcy turns to her friends and mutters, “This asshole is literally walking down the aisle to the theme song from _Jurassic Park_.”

MJ bursts into giggles and has to stifle them quickly. “I mean, it is his wedding,” she says with a grin. “I guess if he’s allowed to do it anywhere, it’s here.”

“I thought people typically walk down the aisle to songs that aren’t from movies,” Laura says.

“You can pick,” says Cessily. “But people don’t usually pick songs from movies.”

“Oh,” says Laura. “Interesting.”

“This choice is less… romantic than people usually go for,” Carina murmurs. “Not that I’m really one to talk, considering we didn’t walk down the aisle to anything. But still.”

Nebula smirks. “Point is, it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s certainly happening,” Ian says judiciously.

“I guess as long as he’s happy,” Rogue says, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t gonna have to worry about it, so that’s fine.”

Remy smirks at her. “You sure ‘bout that, _cher_?”

At this, everyone in the group turns to look at Rogue, who hisses “ _Yes!_ ” and nudges him hard enough to push him against Laura, who’s sitting on his other side.

Laura just looks amused. “I think you’ll have a hard time convincing her to get married,” she whispers in Remy’s ear. “She’s very adamant about it.”

He shrugs, winking at her. “Don’ worry, petite. ‘Sall in fun anyway.”

The music shifts to - “Oh my god, Laura chose ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight,’” Darcy intones as she watches the entrance of Laura’s bridespeople with interest.

“That’s a little more normal, isn’t it?” Ian asks.

“Sort...of?” MJ says. “I mean. One of my cousins had her first dance to an instrumental version of the love song from _Tangled_ , so.”

“This is instrumental, too,” Ian murmurs. “I guess it could be worse?”

“It could be Bruno Mars’ ‘Marry You,’” Darcy deadpans.

“What,” Nebula deadpans. “I only know that song because you made us listen to it and that’s fucking stupid.”

“It’s blatant keyword-searching,” Darcy says. “But hey, there’s Laura, look how pretty!” Laura’s wedding dress has crystal-y cap sleeves and an empire waist, and it’s definitely on the elegant side of maternity wear.

“Very nice,” Carina croons.

“She looks good,” Laura says. “Why is there a box of pizza on the altar?”

“I bet it has to do with that,” Ian remarks, nodding to the dog (Clint’s) that’s trotting down the aisle with a pillow tied to his collar.

“Oh my god,” Rogue says, biting back a laugh. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

“They haven’t popped the kid out yet, there’s no one else to carry rings,” Darcy shrugs.

Jarvis, who’s performing the ceremony, clears his throat and says, “Let’s begin. We are gathered here today to join these two people, Clinton Francis Barton and Laura Sabrina Amello in matrimony. While they are both fairly young, they are deeply in love and committed to each other. Clint and Laura have been together for almost two years now, and they’ve spent those two years growing stronger together. You’re here today to witness their union.”

“I feel like this is both an understatement and an overstatement,” Bobbi remarks.

“Oh, be kind,” Jemma says.

“I am,” Bobbi replies. “Weddings are just ridiculous no matter what.”

“She’s kind of right,” says Skye. “And I mean, she had the _most_ ridiculous wedding, I think she’d know.” She nudges Bobbi affectionately.

“Nobody said any of that sappy bullshit,” Bobbi shrugs.

Jarvis says, “Webster's Dictionary defines wedding as ‘the fusing of two metals with a hot torch.’ Well, you know something? I think you guys are two medals.” He makes a quick face before continuing, “All apologies to NBC. Anyhow, Clint and Laura first met at an afterparty for the local roller derby team. He was...attempting to help someone and unwittingly injured himself, and Laura helped take care of him. He has known she was the one for him since he first looked into her eyes.”

“ _Aw_ ,” Carina coos.

Nebula makes a face, but squeezes her hand. “Thanks for not doing all this bullshit,” she murmurs to Carina.

“Of course,” Carina murmurs. “You’d hate it. That would be a crappy wedding.”

“Their friends have often remarked that the two of them are perfect for each other. For their first Valentine’s Day, Clint got Laura a kitten, which looked exactly like the type of cat Laura has always wanted. For his birthday, Laura found a set of rare collectible figures from the _Community_ Christmas episode. They have spent countless hours together watching television and talking about every possible topic.” Jarvis is about to continue, but he’s interrupted by the sound of Clint sniffling.

“Sorry,” he says, wiping at his eyes.

This makes Laura start crying, too, smiling as she does. “Oh my god,” she exclaims.

Nebula grimaces. “Why,” she mutters to Carina. “As if this wasn’t already gross enough.”

“They’re in love,” Carina says. “That makes some people get emotional.”

Nebula makes a face, but doesn’t protest that.

Jarvis also looks alarmed. “Do you two...need a moment?” he asks gently.

“No, I’m okay,” says Clint, even though he’s still wiping at his eyes. “Laura?”

“Yeah,” Laura says. “Keep going.”

“Alright.” Nodding, Jarvis continues reading. “These two look forward to many years together, and they thank you for being a part of this. Do we have the rings?” He glances down at the pizza and can’t help making a baffled face, even though he knows exactly why it’s there.

Lucky, who’s sitting on Bucky’s feet with the pillow tied onto his back, whines up at the pizza. Bucky carefully unties the pillow and then holds out the leash for Ana to take, who’s waiting off to the side. She grabs it and the pizza, cheerfully letting herself get hauled off by Lucky, who has only one goal: pizza. (There’s a wave of giggles from the audience, some of whom are less successful than others at keeping it together.)

Bucky hands the pillow to Jarvis, who thanks him and then says, “I believe they have prepared their own vows. Clint, Laura, if you’d like to proceed?”

Clint looks like he might cry again, but he says, smiling, “I love you and I like you.”

Laura hasn’t really stopped crying, but she nods and repeats, “I love you and I like you.”

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jarvis says, also smiling.

Clint kisses Laura and everyone cheers. Then they keep kissing, to the point that it begins to make everyone uncomfortable. “Well,” mutters Nebula, “I _guess_ this is better than crying.”

“It’s… something,” Carina agrees.

Remy’s dabbing at his eyes, which makes Rogue glance over at him and smirk. “Y’ okay there?”

“Fine, thanks, cher,” he says, chuckling. “‘S all just so beautiful.”

Finally, they break apart, and Clint, holding Laura’s hand, lifts it above his head and whoops. “We’re married!” he says, grinning widely.

“Better him than me,” Bobbi says, shaking her head fondly. “Idiot.”

 

* * *

 

“Is there going to be more to do soon?” Pietro asks, jiggling his leg under the table. “I’m bored.”

Wanda sighs. “They’re off getting pictures, I think. They should be out soon and then there’ll be speeches and dancing and such.”

“But I’m bored,” says Pietro. “Just sitting here talking.”

“You could go see if the open bar will give you a glass of champagne in the meantime,” says Wanda, rolling her eyes. “It might help.”

“Okay!” Pietro stands up and zips off toward the bar.

Wanda shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she says to the rest of the table.

Hope smiles sheepishly. “I mean, it could be worse,” she says. “There was like an hour wait at my cousin’s wedding.”

“That’s absurd,” exclaims Jemma, who’s already availing herself of the champagne.

Skye snickers. “It’s fine. I can’t blame him, this is kind of the boring part.”

Wanda shrugs. “Our parents didn’t take us to weddings when we were younger. I have no idea what is customary.”

“Surprisingly, most of this,” Raina remarks. “Bird boy really got it together, or he managed to fake it, anyway.”

Pietro plops back down, drinking half of the glass of champagne in one go. “I did it,” he says happily. Then he turns to Wanda. “Please tell me your wedding won’t be so boring, if you have one.”

Wanda blushes and says, “I haven’t really thought about it,” with a shy glance at Hope. “I, ah, I suppose I will try.”

“I think the bigger your wedding is the more slow parts there are,” says Bobbi, who’s the authority on such things. “More people to account for, more moving parts, as it were. The spectacle.” She rolls her eyes. “This is one of the only reasons I don’t regret having eloped in Vegas back when.”

Raina grins and leans forward on one hand. “It must be fun to live such irony.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I’m stuck drinking red wine,” Jessica grumbles.

“I don’t think they have shots at weddings,” Karen jokes.

“Well, they _should,_ ” grumbles Jessica. “It’d make all this bullshit easier to deal with.”

“I think that would be a recipe for disaster,” says Foggy.

“If they’re not keeping a record of how many drinks each person gets, any bar can be a disaster,” Kara points out, shrugging cheerfully.

“See?” Jessica takes a drink of wine and then makes a face. “Nope. I tried pretending it was something else. Didn’t work.”

 

* * *

 

Clint, Laura, and their party return to applause from the guests. Tony, who is DJing because he asked to do something and this was the lowest-stakes job, announces, “First dance time!” Then he starts the music...which is “A Whole New World” from _Aladdin._

“Oh my god,” says Gamora, watching in rapt horror.

“What?” Laura asks, tilting her head. “Isn’t this a love song?”

“It’s a love song from a Disney cartoon,” Gamora says. “The second love song from a Disney cartoon that’s been in this wedding so far.”

Joey shrugs. “I mean, at least they picked two of the movies with the best soundtracks.”

“I think it’s sort of cute,” Carina declares. “So many other love songs are just embarrassing.”

“I like this song!” Drax says cheerfully.

Mike grins over at Gamora. “Hey, better them than you, right?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Gamora deadpans.

Meanwhile, Rhodey is grinning. “I love this song.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “It’s not objectively bad,” she says.

Jarvis shrugs. “I wasn’t in charge of anything except the ceremony itself,” he says, sipping his wine. “It’s not what I would choose, but it isn’t my wedding.”

“Well, they’re giant nerds, so I guess it fits,” Hope V. remarks.

Once they’re done with the dance, Tony announces, “Okay, go ahead and start a food line at that table over there and loop around.” He’s barely said “food line” before Pietro has zoomed to the front of it.

 

* * *

 

“Clint and I go way back to college,” Natasha’s saying. “He’s been my partner-in-crime more times than I can count - not literal crime, don’t worry. I’ve been there for him through finals weeks and bad breakups and all the crazy shit life has thrown at both of us. And I couldn’t be happier that he’s found someone who loves him the way Laura does.” She smiles at the two of them and continues, “When he texted me the night they met he said, ‘Nat, I think I met an angel tonight.’ Now, I was there for almost all of his college relationships, so I was pretty much expecting him to be exaggerating. But then I got to know her, and I watched them get closer, and I absolutely think that there couldn’t ever be anyone better suited for him than Laura. They support each other, they take care of each other, and she’s the only one who doesn’t mock him for his weird thing about putting farm animal decor in the kitchen. Clint, Laura, I hope you guys have many years of happiness together.” She raises her glass and grins.

“Aw,” Laura coos. “Thanks, Nat.”

After the applause dies down, Myka stands up to give her toast. “Laura asked me to give a toast since I’m basically the only one of her friends who’s married.” Her friend Pete, who’s sitting at a nearby table, lets out a few whoops. “And even though I told her Helena and I have only been technically married three years, she still said that was enough to give her and Clint some advice. So, first of all, Clint, I know krav maga. Just be aware of that.” There’s some chuckles from the audience and then she continues, “But, seriously, Laura’s a really special person, and I don’t necessarily believe in the concept of soulmates, but If they were real I think Clint would be Laura’s. But it’s more than that. When you’re with someone, and something goes wrong, you have to know how to take care of each other and put the other person first. You have to face issues head on and not try to shove them under a rug. Helena and I have learned how to do that together.” She glances over at her wife, who is beaming proudly at her. “From what Laura’s told me, she and Clint already basically have a head start on that. And that’s why I think they’ll make it. Good luck, both of you.”

“Alright, I’m gonna keep this short ‘cause I don’t think you guys want to hear me try to talk after those two were so eloquent,” says Sam good-naturedly when he stands up. “Clint’s a good dude. Kind of an idiot sometimes, but we’re all kind of idiots sometimes, and Laura clearly doesn’t mind. I’ve never seen him say a single bad thing about her, and vice versa. They’re gonna be great at marriage, and great parents too.”

The floor is opened up for anyone else after that, and surprisingly or maybe not so surprisingly after all the first person to stand with champagne in hand is Raina. She’s pretty sure Clint is actually a little terrified in the seconds between her making her intention known and actually beginning to talk, but that’s pretty much par for the course with them. “I don’t think it’s possible for Clint to be any happier than he is with Laura,” she remarks. “He’s a very certain sort of person, but so is Laura. They…” She draws out the word dramatically. “They’re big romantic nerds, the both of them, but it works for them. Thanks for giving the bird boy something more tangible than ghost hunting to fixate on, Laura.”

After the meal is mostly done they have a garter toss, which Laura takes care to specify is not _actually_ a garter, just a lacy cat-themed bracelet. Thor ends up catching it, and takes everyone’s teasing good-naturedly. “It is fitting, since we already intend to wed!” he says, winking at Jane.

When Laura announces the bouquet toss, Bobbi makes a big show of stepping away from the dancefloor and going to get another drink. “It’s a superstition, but I’m not taking any chances,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes at Skye and Jemma, then at Audrey (she’s seated at a different table, but now that it’s the mingling part of the wedding they’re mingling).

Sif and Maria, however, glance at each other and grin. “Fight you for it?” teases Maria.

“Of course!” says Sif.

Melinda raises an eyebrow at Sif. “Not getting ideas, are you?” she asks lightly.

“No, I just want to beat her,” explains Sif as she stands up, eyes gleaming. “Don’t worry.”

Once they get over to where Laura is tossing it, they spend the seconds while the bouquet is in the air trying to playfully shove and elbow each other out of the way. Sif has a couple of inches on Maria, so she’s victorious in the end, waving it triumphantly.

Melinda snorts. “At least they’ve found a way to have fun,” she says wryly to Maya.

“It’s sort of charming,” Maya replies, shrugging.

Soon after this, the dancing begins. Skye tugs Trip out onto the floor. “I know you’ve got moves,” she teases.

“Girl, you have no idea.”

As he starts spinning her around, Bobbi turns to Jemma and suggests, “Take you out for a twirl?”

Jemma giggles. “I can’t promise anything,” she says, “but we can try.” It’s mostly going to amount to them snuggling standing up while they slowly turn in a circle, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Hey,” Quill says to Mantis, “did Dad ever make you take dance lessons?”

“He had me in tap for a year or two because it fit in his schedule,” Mantis shrugs. “That will not be very useful here.”

Quill laughs. “Nah, probably not. All I know is the box-step, but you want me to teach you? That’s probably a thing that big brothers are supposed to do.”

“I would like that,” Mantis agrees. “It can’t be too difficult!”

“Let’s go!” Quill offers her his arm and they get up to dance.

Meanwhile, Foggy and Matt are swaying back and forth together. “I don’t really have an internal rhythm,” Matt says, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s okay. My mom had me in ballroom dancing when I was like fourteen and I was pretty bad at it.” Foggy grins. “This is nice.”

“That’s happening,” Misty remarks under her breath.

“Hm?” Colleen looks over and then giggles. “Oh. Yeah, that’s...definitely something. Do you think they know how couple-y they look?”

“I mean, you’d think they would, considering how often people give them shit for it,” Misty chuckles.

Colleen nods. Then she smirks and asks, “Hey, should we go dance too?”

“Eh, y’know, why not,” Misty says. She rises to her feet and offers Colleen a hand, grinning.

“Dance, _chérie_?” Remy asks, offering Rogue his hand.

“I _guess_ ,” Rogue says, but she’s smiling, and when Remy spins her around she laughs.

“Oh,” says Nebula. “I guess she actually does like him.”

Shyly, Audrey comes to tap on Bobbi’s shoulder. “Can I cut in?” she asks. “Is that fair?”

“Don’t let me monopolize her,” Jemma laughs. “You have fun. I’ll…” She trails off, searching for Skye and Trip.

As if on cue, the two of them come whirling by. Skye notices Jemma and tugs Trip over, grinning. “C’mon! We’ll figure out some threeway dance.”

Jemma laughs. “You make it sound so… something.”

Trip laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s just for fun.”

What they end up settling on is an odd sort of dancing circle, but all three of them are laughing so they don’t seem to mind the ridiculousness.

Most of the guests are out on the floor by now, so Pepper turns to Rhodey and asks, “Shall we?”

“Sure!” Rhodey grabs her hand and takes her out.

Tony, who’s still DJing, sighs maudlinly and stares at them. Of course, nobody is paying attention to him, so this dramatic reaction goes unnoticed.

“Love you,” Clint murmurs to Laura during one of the slower songs.

“Love you too,” Laura replies happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With apologies to _Parks and Recreation_ , _The Office_ , and _Community_.
> 
> The bridespeople are largely from other fandoms. See if you can spot them! Laura works at a very nexus-y library.


	152. let your words be anything but empty, why don't you tell them the truth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to Pride, there is a detour to confront Hydra's thinly veiled "straight pride" event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride! 
> 
> cw for shitty misogyny, misgendering, general homophobic Nazi yikes.

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _Mockingbird,_ 25-June-2017

_You guys, I know a bunch of us were meeting up at Pride later, but I think we might have a stop to make beforehand: the First Annual Take Back the Rainbow Festival. Held in the IKEA parking lot. I think we can all see where this is going._

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _FuckOff,_ 25-June-2017

_Ew. They just gotta be special, huh?_

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _EnPointe,_ 25-June-2017

_What were you thinking we should do about it?_

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _Mockingbird,_ 25-June-2017

_Give them a big queer piece of our minds, obviously._

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _TinMan,_ 25-June-2017

_Sounds fun. I’m in. Will this involve giving them a piece of our fists too?_

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _Thesmophoria,_ 25-June-2017

_Please?_

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _AndThorns,_ 25-June-2017

_Convene in the food court in forty-five minutes?_

**_Re: Pride_** _•_ By _Alias,_ 25-June-2017

_We’ll be there._

 

* * *

 

“Bit hot out for a coat, isn’t it?” Jemma asks Aida curiously.

Aida smiles mysteriously. “It’s actually fairly lightweight, but I won’t be wearing it once we leave the mall,” they say. “But considering this is my place of employment, I figured it was appropriate to cover up.”

Lorelei eyes them with amusement and not a small amount of intrigue. “You know you could just  go for a wrap dress,” she says, indicating her own green sundress (everyone notices, once they have cause to, how clearly easily removable it is).

“This was the first thing I grabbed on the way out the door,” Aida shrugs. “I wasn’t planning on having to cover up at all.”

“Fair,” remarks Raina, who’s wearing an uncharacteristically plain black dress… underneath a decorative pleather bondage harness studded with red silk roses. “So what’s the plan, anyway?”

“We can start by heading over and showing off our big queer selves,” drawls Victoria, who Bobbi texted once plans were being made.

“And then kick their asses?” Bucky asks hopefully.

Sharon is trying not to grin too much when she says, “ _Maybe._ ”

Skye’s looking over the crowd of people assembled (it’s a few dozen people) and whistles. “We’ve got a hell of a bunch here,” she says, grinning. “If I were them, I’d be freaking the fuck out when we show up.”

“That would mean they aren’t going to underestimate us,” snarks Isabelle, rolling her eyes.

Steve nods. Among other things, he’s wearing a sparkly purple cowboy hat (an early birthday gift from Sharon and Natasha). “That’s one of their many hallmarks,” he says. “Means there’s usually an element of surprise, though.”

“I don’t know what surprise they think they’re doing this time,” Trish grouses. “Setting up their hate festival where they _know_ we’re gonna see it, they’re idiots if they don’t realize we’re gonna show up and have words.” She smirks. “They’re idiots anyway, but still.”

“Probably trying to bait us into a confrontation,” says Joey. “Which, it’s sure working.”

“Everyone ready?” Skye asks. “Bobbi? We good to head out?”

Bobbi nods, grinning proudly. She’s twirling her batons, which have been wrapped in (respectively) pink-purple-blue and green-white-gray-black ribbons. “Y’all kick ass,” she says. “C’mon, let’s head.” She turns out of the food court and toward the exit.

They all head out of the mall, chattering among themselves; not everyone is prepared to do physical violence, but their presences are all vital in one way or another. This is exemplified by the three in the fron of the group: Raina, casually reapplying lipstick that sort of makes her look like she’s been drinking the blood of men, Aida, unbuttoning their coat to reveal a green-and-purple bikini and tying their hair off to one side to highlight the tattoo on the opposite shoulder, and Lorelei, untying her flimsy little dress to reveal little more than gold booty shorts and teal-and-gold bejeweled pasties.

“Well,” Hope S. squeaks, a fair distance behind them.

Hope V., who’s one of the fighters somewhat assigned to defending the innocents if need be, glances over and smirks. “They’re sort of a deranged pop trio, aren’t they,” she says. It’s clearly meant as a compliment.

“I’ll lead,” Lorelei murmurs to the other two, casually stepping forward to saunter into the IKEA parking lot. Despite the flyer’s claims to upholding “traditional family values,” she’s fairly certain it’s not going to be so conservative an event that the sight of a practically-naked woman won’t stop the idiot Nazis in their tracks.

This proves accurate when one of them lets out a low whistle and yells, “Didn’t know someone ordered a strippergram.”

“They didn’t,” Lorelei croons, approaching the man and smiling dangerously, coming to sit on the edge of his table (he’s representing, alarmingly, a local gun club). “I’d still have clothes on if I was here to strip for you.”

“Hey baby,” calls another to Aida. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing with these freaks?”

They roll their eyes showily at Raina before very politely retorting, “Not your baby, not a girl.”

The asshole laughs and responds, “Yeah? Well, you sure look like one to me, wearing next to nothing like that.”

Aida shrugs casually, but this time when they speak their voice is icy. “I don’t see any reason to hide my body just because of the assumptions other people might make about it,” they say. “Not anymore, not again.”

He leers at them. “I’m sure making a lot of _assumptions_.” He moves his hand near his crotch, as if his meaning weren’t clear, and continues, “I’m sure I could change your mind.”

“About who I _am_?” Aida asks, approaching this Nazi (he’s manning a beer and barbecue booth). “Do you know how degrading it is to be kept in a closet?”

“The only closet is the one you put yourself in, baby,” he says, smirking. “Maybe if you quit trying to be a freak like these losers things’ll get easier.”

Raina clears her throat, coming to stand beside Aida. “Did you not hear them? Not your baby.”

His grillmaster buddy turns to regard Raina, musing, “You’re that pain slut, huh?”

“And she’s not a slut,” Aida retorts.

While these three have been distracting the Nazis on their front lines, the rest of their people have been taking positions, which prior to the fighting seems largely to revolve around partaking of queer activity (this also serves as distractions, lures, and provocation) and hoisting their Pride signs and memorabilia. Hope V. and Pam look to be about ten seconds away from going down on each other; Trip’s holding a sign that says THANK YOU SISTERS that has pictures of Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera; Nebula has wandered over to one of the unattended signs that says #TakeBackTheRainbow and is spray-painting over it FUCK HOMOPHOBIA.

“What the hell’s going on?” the first guy asks when he chances to glance up from Lorelei’s tits, where his attention has been solely focused for rather a while. “What’s this freakshow parade doing here?”

“We figured if you tried to co-opt and drown out our event, we could do the same for you,” Jemma shouts defiantly.

“Also,” Skye says, nodding over at the table where a bunch of local police are sitting, along with a big sign that says BLUE LIVES MATTER, “that’s pretty threatening.”

“Not to mention insulting, horrifying, and downright ugly,” Misty adds.

Rumlow comes over, scowling. “What’s going on?” he asks. “What are _they_ doing here?”

“Raining on your straight pride parade,” Steve replies without a trace of irony.

“We _could_ just gaybomb you,” Darcy remarks, “but I’m getting the feeling it’s going to escalate.”

“Oh, you bet, bitch,” says Rumlow. Then he notices Kara. “You know, you never had it better than when you were one of us,” he says to her. “No matter what these dipshits tell you.”

“I was never _one of you_ ,” Kara hisses, fire in her eyes. “You’re murderers and abusers and _assholes_ , and the fact that you think that’s ‘traditional’ is sickening.”

Rumlow smirks. “You’d know about murder, wouldn’t you? You got him killed.”

“Nope,” interrupts Jessica, stepping forward to give Rumlow an uppercut to the jaw. “That’d be me.”

It seems like this is the impetus for the fighting that everyone knew would break out eventually to begin. Mack and Bruce quietly begin herding the people who won’t be fighting - Raina, Aida, Lorelei, Karen, Foggy, and a few others - to a safe distance away.

Fifteen minutes later, the fight’s mostly blown over and Claire is surveying the damage done and sighing. “Bucky, is that a black eye? Tegan, you should get some ice on that bruise, it looks pretty bad. Colleen, your lip’s bleeding pretty bad. I definitely can’t deal with all of you, but the clinic’s got a booth set up at Pride.” She shakes her head. “I guess we’d better get over there.”


	153. and if you say we'll be alright I'll follow you into the light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Jemma move into a new apartment together.

“Thank you guys for helping us,” Jemma says, lifting her box up on her hip. “It’s really... helpful. My parents really did want to lend a hand, but Dad couldn’t get out of… whatever out-of-town thing, I didn’t really listen.” She laughs. “So having someone to carry the things I can’t really manage alone is good.”

“‘Course, Jem,” Bobbi assures. “That’s what friends are for. Or whatever.” She winks.

Of course, this makes Jemma blush. “Yes, well,” she mumbles, not entirely comfortable flirting so openly in front of so many others.

“So whose bed are you gonna be, y’know, using?” Peter seems to be trying to keep his tone innocent, but he also is making kind of a suggestive face. Gwen elbows him in the ribs. This is slightly difficult because they’re both carrying couch cushions, but she manages.

“Mine is bigger and nicer,” Jemma says with a shrug. “But Skye’s is going in the guest room.”

“You guys are cute,” Karen coos. She and Kara are currently carrying the dining table, and she pauses to get a better hold of it as they turn a corner. “All… domestic and shit.”

“We do what we can,” Jemma giggles.

Trip smiles. “So d’you want Bobbi and I to take the bed once we get all these downstairs?”

“Could you?” Jemma chirps. “I figure we should get the big furniture in soon as possible so once Skye shows up with hers we won’t be falling over each other.”

“How much big furniture is she even bringing, aside from her bed?” Kara asks. “I mean, she didn’t have all that much, right? Her right-now place is pretty small.”

Jemma shrugs. “Well, a desk,” she says. “And some shelves. Her movie cabinet is bigger.”

Trip chuckles and nods. “How many DVDs does she even have by now? Like three hundred?”

“Some exorbitant thing like that,” Jemma agrees.

“Damn,” says Gwen with a whistle. “Are you guys gonna have room for all that?”

“There’s more space in this apartment, thankfully,” Jemma laughs. “Besides, I only have a couple boxes of DVDs, so we’ll be able to make do.”

 

* * *

 

“Is there any order to how these boxes should go in the truck?” Akela asks.

Skye shrugs. “I labeled the ones with fragile shit in them, so I guess those go on top? But otherwise it’s whatever.”

“We’ve already got the bed in there, so it’s pretty much just put stuff where it fits,” says Mack.

Joey and Elena grab boxes and start to head out, and Robbie and Akela follow suit. Skye grabs a box and hefts it up, groaning. “Why do I have so much shit?”

Mack snorts. “You don’t even have that much shit.”

“Yeah, but it sure feels like it.”

Once they get out there, Gabe gives them a nod. “Anybody want water?” he asks. He’s playing around on his phone while guarding the truck and the water bottle supply.

Elena grabs one and downs half of it. “I know it’s not even that hot out, but I’m not used to lifting heavy things,” she says good-naturedly.

“Thank you guys for helping, again,” says Skye. “We’re definitely getting pizza after this. All of the pizza you can eat.”

“ _All_ of the pizza?” Gabe asks, chuckling.

“Okay, well, maximum one full pizza per person,” adds Skye quickly. “I’ve seen you eat.”

Robbie snorts. “No kidding.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s your cat?” Bobbi asks Jemma, sounding amused. “She doing okay with this?”

“Oh, she’s hiding in the bath,” Jemma laughs. “Poor dear. She’ll be all right once we’re settled, I’m sure. She’s just startled with all the movement.”

Kara nods. “Good luck,” she says. “She hasn’t moved before, has she?”

“Only from the shelter where she was born to the apartment,” Jemma says. “Luckily we’re just going halfway down the parking lot, so it won’t be too much of a change. And it’s not like she goes outside, anyway. It’ll just be a new arrangement of furniture.”

“Aw,” Peter says. “Poor kitty. I know you said she gets nervous anyway.”

“Yeah,” Jemma sighs. “She’s been… moody since Fitz left, anyway. I hope the change helps.”

“We could go play with her later, if that would help,” Gwen offers.

“Maybe,” Jemma says. “We’ll see if she even wants to socialize, but she’ll work it out.” She shakes her head and smiles, heading for the apartment door. “We’re approaching the last loads before we go for the keys and the cat, I think. You guys are going to be well-paid. In pizza.”

“Food is a powerful motivator,” Kara chuckles.

Peter snickers. “Load.”

Trip rolls his eyes fondly. “That is what she said.”

 

* * *

 

“So a left up here?” Robbie asks.

“Yup,” Skye says. “Thanks for driving. I mean...I know how to drive my van, obviously, but U-Hauls are another thing entirely.”

“This is so fun!” Joey says cheerfully, from the non-seat he’s sitting in on the floor. “I’ve never been in one of these before.”

“You okay down there?” Skye asks, grinning.

“Totally fine! It’s only the speed bumps that are a problem.”

“I hope Lucy’s okay,” mutters Robbie.

“Dude, she’ll be fine.” Skye chuckles. “Elena’s a good driver. And it’s only like fifteen minutes.”

“A lot can happen in fifteen minutes.”

They pull into the parking lot, where they find Peter and Gwen waving cheerfully from the front of the new building. Once they’ve piled out, Gwen says, “Hey! We’ve got most of the furniture in the new place already. Bobbi and Trip are putting the bedframe together. What can we take?”

“Small things,” adds Peter sheepishly. “We’re not good at lifting.”

Skye laughs. “It’s okay. C’mon. The others are coming in Robbie’s car.”

They’ve gotten the first round of boxes inside and are coming back out for more when the Dodge Charger pulls into a nearby space. Robbie sees it and seems visibly relieved. Skye nudges him playfully. “See, your baby is _fine._ ”

“She’s not my _baby,_ ” mutters Robbie.

“This way!” Peter says, guiding Gabe inside once he’s grabbed another light box.

Once Skye gets inside, she immediately goes over to kiss Jemma hello. “How’s it going?”

Jemma hums happily, wrapping arms around Skye’s waist. “Very good,” she says. “I’ll open the side door so it’s easier for you to bring your bed in. After another kiss.”

“Gross,” Kara teases.

“Yeah, _you’re_ one to talk,” Skye teases right back with a wink. Then she kisses Jemma again as requested.

“I’ll get the door,” Karen says, heading over to the patio. She doesn’t want to interrupt kisses.

“So where do you want this?” Gabe asks, nodding to his box. “It’s, uh…?”

“Oh, that’s kitchen stuff,” says Skye. “Which is that way.” She nods in the direction.

“Cool,” Gabe nods, heading toward the kitchen. “Figure I’ll just put it over here and let you sort it out yourself later.”

“Yeah, no worries. I just basically threw anything in there that would fit and wouldn’t break.” Skye shrugs. “Sorry, Jem.”

“It’s fine!” Jemma promises. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, totally.” Skye grins at her before heading for the door. “Okay, time to get that bedframe!”

It doesn’t take them that long to unload everything, and then people sort of collapse onto the various furniture and floor space. “Please tell me there’s no more heavy lifting,” sighs Mack.

“No, that should be good,” says Skye. Then she adds, turning to Jemma, “Did you wanna let Griffith out now that we’re done moving stuff?”

“Should do,” Jemma agrees, going to fetch the cat carrier and cooing gently. “Come on, sweetie, let’s just… explore, if you like?” She opens the door and Griffith steps out hesitantly, glancing around the room and the multitude of people, many unknown, inside it.

And then she bolts.

“Probably going to find a safe hiding place,” Jemma says with a playful sigh.

Trip nods. “She’ll be fine, I’m sure. Just has to get used to everything being different.”

“Yeah, we’re planning on letting her camp out in the spare bathroom if she wants. That’s where we’re putting her litterbox, so.” Skye shrugs. “She’s a weird little cat, but she’ll be okay.”

“Do you socialize her much?” Kara asks. “Is that a normal cat thing to do? Or is that just dogs?”

“I’m sure we could try, but we haven’t, really,” Jemma says, shrugging. “Cat friends would be good for her, but it’s not like you take cats out on walks like you do dogs, so.”

“I’ve seen cats on leashes before,” Joey chimes in. “It’s cute. But...she might not like that much,” he adds with a grin.”

“Probably not,” Jemma agrees. “She doesn’t go outside, really. Just not used to it.”

There’s a few more minutes of chatter before Mack and Bobbi emerge from the bedroom. “So, you said something about pizza,” Mack says, grinning.

“Okay, okay.” Skye laughs. “I’ll call. What does everyone want on them?”

 

* * *

 

“Everyone comfortable?” Jemma asks, passing out plates. “Could I get anyone any drinks?”

“More water?” Elena asks, holding out her glass. “Thank you.”

“Same,” says Karen hopefully.

“I’ll bring the pitcher over,” Jemma suggests.

“You’re cute,” Skye calls after her.

“Thanks, love,” Jemma calls back, going into the kitchen and returning momentarily with water and a few extra cups, just in case.

“You’re a very good hostess, honey,” Bobbi adds with a wicked grin.

“Thank you,” Jemma repeats, beaming.

“Ew,” teases Akela. “We’re eating here.”

“Hey,” replies Skye, grinning. “Like you and your girl aren’t sappy.”

“Not while everyone else is eating,” chimes in Elena with a laugh.

“So you’re into ‘your girl’ status,” Gabe observes, laughing. “Nice.”

Akela shrugs. “Guess so,” she says, smiling over at Elena. “Feels right.”

“That sounds pretty gross,” Bobbi observes.

“You three get pretty gross too,” snarks Mack. “Just saying.”

“We’re all gross,” Jemma says. “Every last one of us, in our way.”

Joey snickers. “Pretty much.”

“Hey, I could put something on while we eat,” Skye offers. “If you guys want. I’ll have to dig through my movies, or we can put on one of Jemma’s.”

“Okay!” chirps Peter around a mouthful of pizza. “Whatcha got?”

“I have a lot of _Doctor Who_ and the _Harry Potter_ films and… random others,” Jemma says. “Some animated films. Not exactly a particularly expansive collection.”

“I have...more than that,” says Skye, trying and failing not to look smug. “Ooh! Who here hasn’t seen _The Room_?”

Trip and Elena snicker. Peter and Gwen look at each other, excited. “Oh dear,” Jemma murmurs.

“What’s _The Room_?” Karen asks suspiciously. “Those are some very mixed reactions.”

“Oh, it’s amazing,” Skye says, trying and failing to keep a serious face. “It’s the touching story of a man who falls in love, only to find out his fiancee is cheating on him with his best friend. It was written, directed, and produced by the star, Tommy Wiseau.”

“Sounds like a really normal movie,” Gabe says skeptically. “Why do I feel like it’s not a normal movie?”

“No, it’s a _totally_ normal movie,” Trip says, tone innocent.

“It does involve suicide,” adds Skye, “but it’s like...I don’t think it’d be an issue for anyone, it’s too ridiculous. But just in case that’s an issue for somebody.”

Nobody says anything, so she hops up with a squeal. “I’ll be right back!”

“Consider this your warning,” Bobbi sighs, reaching for another slice of pizza.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Skye asks once the credits are done. “What’d you think?”

“That… was a movie,” Karen says, blinking.

Peter and Gwen start dramatically reenacting scenes from the movie. “You are tearing me apaaaaaaaaht, Lisa!”

“Oh my god,” giggles Gwen, “we should dress up as them for Halloween.”

“Yes!”

“But wouldn’t it be even better if you all went wearing tuxedos and throwing a football around?” teases Elena.

“Would the joke translate if someone walked away from the football, though?” Jemma asks.

“Probably not,” says Elena with a shrug. “But it would be amusing anyway.”

“I’m honestly shocked you never forced me to watch this before,” says Akela.

“Well, I made up for it now!” says Skye cheerfully.

Robbie blinks. “That was...a real movie?”

“Yup. It was made in 2003. I’ve seen it a dozen times.”

“I’ve… also seen it several times,” Jemma says with a playful sigh. “If it’s a vital experience, which it is, that means helping others have it.”

“There’s midnight screenings!” adds Peter. “They’re audience participation like _Rocky Horror_. You get to throw spoons at one point!”

“Well that...sounds...fun?” Joey’s head is tilted, like he’s still trying to figure out what happened to him for an hour and a half.

“Screaming is involved,” Bobbi says, as if this is a show of how fun it actually is.

“So what I want to know,” Kara begins, “is how this movie even became a thing.”

“So, the director is maybe not a human being,” starts Skye. “Like I think he might be an alien? Or maybe a vampire. He was planning this movie for literally years and then he decided that when no studio would touch the script, _he’d_ just make it himself. He made it, but like, barely - there’s a book that the guy who played Mark wrote about it, it’s called _The Disaster Artist._ Great read if you like that kind of thing. Anyway, so he got it into this tiny LA theater for two weeks, and then it made like two thousand bucks and was pulled out. _But_ one of the guys who saw it was this guy who does the 5-Second Films videos and he thought it was hilarious, so he told all his friends how funny it was and made them all go see it before it left the theater, and then Tommy Wiseau started getting letters from people saying how much they enjoyed it, and he scraped together enough for more screenings, and it got some attention from some celebrities, and then indie theaters started doing the midnight screenings and it kind of took on a life of its own.”

“Wow,” Kara says. “That’s… a ride.”

“Yeah.” Skye grins and adds, “But it’s like, _the_ bad movie that everyone has seen, so I like to start people off with it.”

“I feel so educated,” Gabe jokes.

“Oh don’t worry,” Skye says, eyes sparkling, “we’re gonna educate you on every important movie ever. Which reminds me! I know what we can watch next, if you guys are up for it.”

There’s a series of groans around the room. “If it’s what I think you mean, haven’t you seen it like a thousand times by now?” asks Mack.

“It does feel like an oddly appropriate way to christen the new place though,” Jemma concedes, grinning.

“What?” Robbie asks. “What shitty movie are you gonna make us watch now?”

“No, no! This one’s good, I promise!” Skye hops up and goes to look through her DVD boxes again. “It’s the best movie ever!”

That’s how most of them end up staying an extra two hours, because Skye’s enthusiasm about _Pacific Rim_ is contagious, even if they’ve seen the movie already. Gabe can’t help but grin when it’s done and he turns to give his approval. “Truly the best solution to ocean monsters,” he says.

“Right?” asks Skye. “The sequel comes out next year and I can’t _wait!_ ”

“Nice!” Gabe declares. “Do monsters come from somewhere else this time? Volcanoes or something, maybe? Or what?”

“We don’t know much yet. John Boyega is in it as Stacker’s kid though. And Rinko Kikuchi, Mako, is coming back. And a bunch of other people I don’t remember. That’s out in February.”

“We know,” teases Trip. “You haven’t been counting down the days or anything.”

“Not _yet_ ,” retorts Skye.

“Anyway,” says Joey, “not to bail on you but I think I’m gonna head out, if you don’t need us for anything else?”

“Oh, totally. Thank you so much for helping us.” Skye wraps him in a tight hug. “Say hi to Drax for me.”

Jemma hops up to hug him as well, if more gently, before she says to the others, “Please, don’t let us keep you if you need to… well. Elsewhere. Considering you’re all grown-ups with lives of your own.” She giggles anxiously.

“It’s cool, Jem,” Kara promises.

“But we wouldn’t want to get in _your_ way,” Karen adds mischievously. “I mean, there’s probably some… celebrating to do.”

Of course, this makes Jemma blush. Skye snorts and says, “Yeah, and we have some stuff to unpack before we turn in probably.” Jemma promptly squeaks. Skye pats her shoulder reassuringly before adding, “Thank you all so much for helping. We really, really appreciate it.”

There’s a round of goodbye hugs as everyone prepares to leave, and then once they’re gone Skye glances around. “Holy shit,” she says, slightly in awe. “This is _our_ place.”

“It is,” Jemma agrees, coming to wrap arms around Skye’s waist. “Yours and mine together. And, and our friends helped us get everything important set up, and there’s a bathroom just for my silly cat, and we have a proper _breakfast nook_ , and -” She pauses and tilts her head up to kiss Skye. “Love you.”

Skye hums happily. “Love you too.”

They end up half-heartedly unpacking enough of their clothes to feel accomplished before giving up and ordering more takeout for dinner. They put in another movie and settle in for the evening, not really interested in doing any more unpacking.

They’re so busy eating and watching that neither of them notices the soft meow coming from the hallway. In fact, they don’t notice until Griffith is halfway across the room and slinking towards them. “Oh,” Skye says softly, looking up. “Hey there.” She clicks her tongue encouragingly.

“She probably realized everyone else has gone,” Jemma murmurs. “Hello, darling. Feeling better? Do you want a snack?”

Griffith mews ambivalently and approaches the sofa. That, at least, is familiar (most of the large furniture is, as previously suggested, from Jemma’s, as most of Skye’s large furniture was from the side of the road and vaguely downtrodden).

Skye pats the open spot on the couch next to her. “You can come up,” she says. “Not that I think you will.”

But Griffith surprises them by hopping up next to Skye and then coming over to settle next to her leg.

“Oh. Uh, cool.” Skye sets her half-empty plate on one knee and uses her other hand to scratch Griffith under the chin. “Glad you finally decided you like me.”

“She’s always liked you,” Jemma corrects gently, though she’s clearly pleased by this development. “She’s just… reticent. But you’re, you’re mine, and I’m yours, and I think she knows you’re family, and…”

Skye smiles and leans over to kiss her. “Well, it’s cool, anyway.”

“It is,” Jemma agrees, nuzzling Skye’s cheek. “We’re home.”

Skye nods. “Home,” she echoes. “I like being able to say that.”

“It’s a wonderful thing,” Jemma murmurs. “You’re wonderful, also.”

Sighing, Skye leans her head against Jemma’s shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jemma echoes. “This is good. I feel very good about this.”

“Me too,” says Skye. “We’ve got this.”

“We do,” Jemma says. “We’re really very good at this whole relationship thing.”

“Yeah, totally.” Skye smirks. “Hey, after the movie’s over you wanna break in your bed?” She waggles her eyebrows playfully.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the expected thing,” Jemma replies airily. “You realize you pretty much told our friends we had a box of sex toys to sort through, right?”

Skye giggles. “I mean, I wasn’t... _entirely_ thinking of those, but y’know. They can think what they wanna think.”

“Contextually, though,” Jemma points out. “It definitely seemed like that.”

“True. So, how about it?”

“Of course, love,” Jemma says, leaning for another kiss. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Followed by [touch me I'm a live wire, am I preaching to the choir, be a doer not a trier, as you please, give a little peace"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2504084/chapters/25630782).


	154. I saw myself in summer nights and stars lit up like candlelight, I make my wish but mostly I believed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Thor decide it's time to get a dog.

“So Jane,” Gudrun says as she passes the salad bowl, “are you taking any summer classes this year?”

“Actually, no,” Jane says with a laugh. “There wasn’t anything being offered that I absolutely needed, and I haven’t had a real summer break since high school so I figured it was probably a good idea for my mental health.”

“No summer?” exclaims Alaric, nearly spitting out his soda. “That’s horrible.”

“Well, usually I only take a class or two, and they’re usually ones I enjoy, so it’s not too bad,” Jane replies with a smirk. “Just decided to do something different this time.”

“I’m sure Thor enjoys having you around more,” Fandral says, waggling his eyebrows.

“We see each other about the same amount,” Jane points out, trying not to roll her eyes too much. “Work and all.”

“Yes, but I’m sure you’re taking advantage of the time you have together,” says Fandral, who is the opposite of subtle.

Thor coughs. “Yes, Fandral, we have. We’ve been looking to adopt a dog, actually.”

“Oh!” Volstagg says, perking up. “Where have you been looking?”

“We haven’t really started much, except just browsing online,” Jane admits. “We’ve been doing research on what breed would be best for us.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“I’d like one that’s on the large side,” replies Thor. “And one that can be left alone in the apartment during the day. We’ll have toys for it, of course, but it’ll have to keep itself occupied. Good with kids and other dogs, so we can bring it over for visits.” He grins.

“Good with kids?” Fandral asks, grinning. “I suppose that’s an important consideration.”

“It is,” Hildy says seriously. “If Thor and Jane get a dog I want to meet it!”

“Me too,” adds Flosi.

“See, very important,” Jane declares.

“Of course!” Thor says, smiling at the kids. “We’ll bring it over as soon as it’s settled in.”

“Actually,” Volstagg says, “Gudrun and I have a friend who works at a greyhound rescue, and she was saying that they’re starting to get sort of crowded. Some of them are very laid-back, and pretty much sleep all day.”

“I could get you their contact information,” Gudrun chimes in, grinning. “They’re actually very good at being left alone for long periods of time, most of them.”

“That would be excellent!” Thor beams. “What do you think, my love?”

“I think we could go look, anyway,” Jane says. “See if we bond with any of them.”

 

* * *

 

The employee they speak to on the phone is cheerful and schedules a kennel visit for the next weekend. When they arrive, she comes to meet them in the reception area. “Hi! I’m Rachel. And you must be Thor and Jane?”

“Yes,” says Thor, taking her hand and shaking it vigorously. “It’s very good to meet you, Rachel.”

Jane doesn’t shake hands, but she smiles enthusiastically. “Thanks for helping us out with this.”

“Of course! Gudrun spoke very highly of you both. You’re first-time dog owners, right?”

“We are,” Jane agees. “I’d never really thought about it until I got older, but it seems like a good time.”

“Well, we do offer some basic dog-training classes for a nominal fee, if you’re approved to adopt one of the dogs and you’re interested. I can also recommend a few books or some offsite trainers if you’d like.”

Thor beams. “We will certainly take you up on one or more of those things! Thank you.”

Rachel smiles back. “Great! We can talk more about that later. So, as I said on the phone, we received your application and the dogs that we look at today will be those that will best match your needs: cat-friendly, fine with other dogs, and child-friendly. From there, you can tell me if you have a preference for any of the dogs and that will be taken into account when we make the final adoption decision. I’m sure you understand that our chief concern is for the dogs, and in making sure they have the best life possible in their new homes.”

“Of course,” Jane says. “That’s so important. We wanna do this right.”

“I’m very glad to hear that. Anyway, let’s go in and see some of the dogs!” She leads them into the facility, to a room with several chairs and dog toys scattered around. “This is the meeting room, where we’ll bring the dogs in one at a time. There’s toys, and some of the dogs have learned basic commands that I’d be happy to show you.”

“That sounds awesome,” Jane agrees.

“Great!” Rachel leaves the room and comes back with a tawny dog with a white blaze whose ears prick up the instant she sees them, and trots right over to sniff at Thor’s hand.

“Hello there!” Thor says, offering his hand and then using the other hand to scratch at the dog’s ears.

Rachel smiles. “This is Camille, she’s very sweet. She’s a great dog, will probably need some leash training, but you guys can play with her for a few minutes and see what you think. She loves chasing balls.”

Carefully, Jane picks up one of the balls and tosses it across the room, saying, “Hey, there, Camille. Wanna play?”

Camille dashes over to grab the ball, bringing it back to Jane and dropping it at her feet with a big doggy smile. While Jane plays with her, Thor asks, “You said she might need some leash-training?”

Nodding, Rachel replies, “She tends to hyperfocus on things when she’s on the leash and dart for them. It shouldn’t be a problem if you work with her a little and keep her relaxed, but it can definitely be a problem that some folks aren’t comfortable with. She is food-motivated, though, so treats would help you in keeping her on track.” Camille grabs one of the squeaky toys and starts gnawing on it cheerfully before bringing it over to Thor to throw.

“Do you have any other advice about how to keep dogs… relaxed?” Jane asks timidly.

“We use clicker training in our classes, supplemented with treats, and we find that rewarding desired behavior when it’s happening seems to be the best way to help deal with ‘bad’ behavior,” says Rachel. “So for example, if she was walking along with you calmly, you would feed her a treat or maybe use the clicker. She would come to associate that calm behavior with that positive reinforcement. If she got fixated and tried to bolt, you would try to keep her under control and redirect the behavior, or distract her. And you could use training words like ‘leave it,’ too. We’d definitely help you to work with Camille’s specific needs if you end up adopting her.”

“That makes sense,” Jane says. “Sorry. I’m really starting from scratch here.”

Rachel chuckles. “It’s okay. We definitely understand that everyone is coming at dog ownership from different levels of experience, and we don’t plan on just leaving you to your own devices if you end up adopting one of our dogs. We want to be sure the adoption is a success and that everyone is happy.”

The next dog they see, Aidan, is lighter-colored than Camille and seems shyer, but when Thor waves a bone toy and calls his name Aidan trots over to him. “He’s really good on walks,” Rachel says, “very low-key. A little nervous, but he responds well to exercise and affection.”

Jane smiles and beckons Aidan over. “He seems sweet, though?” she offers, stroking between his ears.

“Oh yes! He’s lovely,” agrees Rachel. “He doesn’t push himself on you, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

They also meet Cosmo, who snuggles right up to Thor but (as Rachel explains) has something of a hoarding problem and is likely to steal things left lying around for his collection of toys, and Orion, who is a little nervous but happy to play once he settles in gets used to them. Then she brings in Scorpio, a brindle dog with a white chest.

“This guy is just a lovebug,” Rachel says, leaning down to unclip his leash and scratch his ears. “And he’s kind of the best of both worlds for a greyhound. Mostly he likes to just lay around and be chill, but sometimes he gets the zoomies and runs around. He hasn’t had a problem when we leave him alone either.”

“The zoomies,” Jane repeats, grinning. “That’s really charming.”

“Yeah, that’s just kind of a term we use for when dogs decide it’s time to run around the house and go crazy,” says Rachel, grinning back. “Greyhounds can be a little more prone to it, for obvious reasons, but some of them do it more often than others.”

Scorpio has rolled over and demanded a belly rub from Thor, who is happily complying. “This guy seems great,” he says. “And he’s good with other animals, right?”

“We haven’t had any issues in our trials. He’s friendly with other dogs and seems indifferent to cats, and gentle with kids.”

“That’s good,” Jane says. “I mean, he wouldn’t be around cats or kids all the time. Yet. But it’s important that he be comfortable.”

Thor nods. Scorpio gets back on his feet and drops into a play bow, so Thor tosses a toy for him to fetch. “He seems like a great dog,” he says. “Anything we should know to watch for?”

“Mostly the bursts of energy, like I said,” Rachel says. “He does like to throw his toys, so I’d make sure to keep all breakables far out of reach and watch him around really little kids when he’s feeling high-energy.”

“Makes sense,” Jane says. “I think we could handle that.” She looks at Thor hopefully, then back at Scorpio.

Thor nods, smiling. “We definitely could.”

 

* * *

 

Rachel explains that the review process may take up to two weeks, but they should likely hear from the shelter by the end of the week. “I can see that you guys really hit it off with Scorpio,” she says. “We’ll definitely take that into account when making the decision.”

Thor gives her another strong handshake and smiles at her. “Thank you for being so helpful today,” he says.

“We really appreciate it,” Jane adds.

“Of course! It was wonderful to meet you.”

The next week seems much longer than it actually is, partially because both Jane and Thor are trying to support each other’s anxieties while not letting their own anxieties get out of control. Thor ends up giving Jane a lot of backrubs. “If this one doesn’t work out, we can try other places,” he says, trying not to sound too sad.

“We can,” Jane says, but she sounds doubtful. “I just… really want this.”

“I do too,” says Thor, leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

“I’m not ready for… well, what Fandral keeps joking about,” she continues. “But I do kind of love the idea of sort of starting our family. It’s sappy, but…” She shrugs sheepishly. “It’s true.”

Thor chuckles. “Of course. I am more than happy to wait for children until we’re both ready. But I do understand what you mean. I think a dog will be a good start.”

Finally, during his lunch break on Thursday, Thor checks his phone and sees one missed call. When he redials, a cheery voice confirms his suspicions that it was the rescue, and the receptionist tells him that they’ve been approved to adopt Scorpio and will be expected to be ready to pick him up and pay the adoption fee within one week.

“That is excellent!” says Thor, standing up suddenly and speaking far too loudly. “Thank you very much!” He almost runs out of the food court, to the befuddlement of the other people there.

When he reaches Jane’s store, it’s pretty much dead, just Jane and Darcy and someone browsing the fidget spinners. “Jane!” he calls. “I have excellent news! We’ve been approved!”

“Oh!” Jane exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “Really?”

“This for the dog?” Darcy asks.

“Yes!” Thor says, beaming. “It’s Scorpio! They said we should come and pick him up within one week.” He bounds over to the counter and kisses Jane on the mouth.

“Careful, you’re gonna knock something over,” Jane teases, but she’s grinning.

“Gross,” Darcy comments.

Thor laughs. “We are merely excited!” He grabs one of the lollipops with a beetle in the center of it from the jarful on the counter and presents it along with a five dollar bill. “You see, I am also a paying customer so no one should be bothered by my presence.”

“I’m not bothered by your presence,” Darcy quips as Jane handles the transaction. “Hell, I’m just killing time in here too. I just think it’s nasty how cutesy you guys are sometimes.” Clearly she doesn’t mean nasty in a bad way, though, as she’s smirking.

“Very well,” says Thor good-naturedly. “Anyway, I just wanted to come give Jane the good news. I’ll see you later tonight?” He leans over to kiss her forehead.

Jane nods. “And we can plan to pick him up tomorrow!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's [Scorpio](https://www.ngap.org/scorpio-i37657.html)!


	155. something to feel, to race through your blood, and remind you you're here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nebula and Carina are entertaining Mantis, and get an idea.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and Carina, Nebula, Laura, and Mantis are all in the living room, in various states of laziness. They all had today off, and Gamora had “encouraged” Carina and Nebula to introduce Mantis to some of their friends and hang out with her today. Nebula’s still not sure what to make of Mantis, and she resents having her day off be taken up with placating her sister, but Mantis seems content watching reruns of _Cutthroat Kitchen,_ so it’s not too bad.

“This isn’t really a cooking show at all,” Mantis observes at a commercial break.

“But they’re cooking things,” says Laura, tilting her head. “So it’s a cooking show.”

“Most cooking shows are designed to judge the contestants’ abilities to cook, though,” Mantis says. “This one seems like it’s more about the contestants’ abilities to put up with nonsense.”

“Duh,” says Nebula, because why would she want to watch a show that was actually about cooking? “That’s the _point_. It’s funny to watch them be assholes to each other.”

“I’m not complaining,” Mantis says cheerfully, bouncing in her seat. “It’s just unexpected.”

“It’s certainly one of a kind,” Carina agrees.

Laura shrugs. “This one isn’t bad. I like the ones where people have to put themselves through extreme physical trials better.”

“What are those?” Mantis asks.

“ _American Ninja Warrior._ _Spartan: Ultimate Team Challenge. Survivor,_ sometimes. Logan likes making fun of them so I’ve seen a lot of them. I actually like them, they’re interesting.”

Mantis blinks. “Why do the ninja warriors have to be American?”

“I think there’s also a UK version of the show,” explains Laura. “This is just the US version. I haven’t seen the UK version.”

“Oh,” says Mantis. “I see.” She clearly doesn’t.

Everyone is quiet for a few more minutes before Laura asks, “Is being married different than being not married?”

“Yes and no,” Carina says, laughing.

“We’re kind of weird, so I dunno if we’re the right people to ask,” adds Nebula, smirking.

“How are you weird?” Mantis asks. “You seem fine to me.”

“Oh, we’re fine,” Carina chuckles. “Just, we’re gay and we’re ace and we’re nontraditional. Our wedding was performed in an empty store next to her sister’s tattoo parlor. All of that.”

Nebula nods. “Yeah, pretty much that. Weird.” She glances sideways at Mantis, as if daring her to say something rude.

“Ace?” Mantis asks. She’s very polite about it. “Like cards?”

“Asexual,” says Laura helpfully. “Someone who doesn’t have sexual attraction for anyone, regardless of gender. Romantic and sexual attraction can be two separate things, so Nebula and Carina are in love with each other but they don’t have sex. Right?” She looks at Carina and Nebula.

“Right,” Carina says, nodding delightedly. Not that she doesn’t trust her friends, but she always likes it when someone that’s not her can explain this properly. “It’s allegedly not normal, but it’s just how some people are. It’s plenty normal.”

“Some people act like it’s not really a thing, but it totally is.” Nebula rolls her eyes. “Those people are just morons.”

Mantis blinks. “They are,” she says. “I have never experienced sexual attraction. I’m a thing, and so are you two.”

Nebula tilts her head. She definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that. “Yeah? You haven’t?”

“No,” Mantis says. “A few of Mr. Ego’s... people asked me about it, I suppose. Why I didn’t ever want to date anyone. But I just never have.”

“Huh.” Nebula looks at Carina. Her wife’s better with people so she’d probably better let her handle this.

“Do you think you could be asexual?” Carina asks gently.

“Maybe,” Mantis says, sounding a little surprised. “I never knew that it was an option before, but it sounds like a possibility.”

Laura smiles, a little awkwardly. “If you are, it’s convenient that you were here to learn about it now.”

“Yes,” Mantis agrees cheerfully. “I have already learned more things about life while living here than I did during, well, the rest of my life. I suppose it makes sense.”

“If you wanna talk about it, I guess we...can,” says Nebula, a little reluctantly. (Well, she can’t be a _total_ asshole since Mantis is gonna be hanging around for awhile, but talking about feelings isn’t exactly her idea of a good time either.)

“Maybe,” Mantis says with a shrug. “Maybe not right now. I’d like to think about it first.”

“If you have any questions, please let me know, alright?” Carina replies, offering a smile. “It can be difficult to figure these things out, but I’d like to help however I can.”

They’re all quiet for a few more minutes, and then Laura, who is clearly trying to use the socialization techniques she’s learned at group, says, “Mantis, did you know we have a band?”

Mantis blinks. “Yes,” she says. “I’ve seen Nebula’s drums in the garage. They’re very hard to miss.”

Nebula snorts. “Yeah, you’d have to be pretty dumb not to have figured that out.” But she sounds a little less mean than before. “We have a show coming up next month, if you wanna come or whatever. You don’t have to.”

“I’d like that,” Mantis chirps. “I’ve never been to a rock concert before.”

“They’re fun!” says Laura with a grin. “Sometimes I have to wear earplugs because it’s so loud, but it’s fun to stand by the speakers and feel the sounds vibrating through your bones.”

“Oh!” Mantis exclaims. “That sounds very interesting. I play the violin, but orchestra concerts are rarely that exciting.”

Laura looks interested. “Maybe you could come play with the rest of us.”

Mantis tilts her head. “Really?”

“I think so.” Laura looks at Carina and Nebula. “That would sound cool, wouldn’t it?”

Nebula frowns. “Maybe,” she grunts.

“I’m sure it could be done,” Carina says, though she sounds slightly unsure. “Apocalyptica does rock music with cellos. I’m sure there’s rock music with violins.”

“I guess we could go try it out,” says Nebula lazily. “Not like we’re doing anything important right now. You have your violin here, right?”

Mantis nods. “I can’t imagine getting rid of it,” she says. “I’m not the best violinist in the world, but I’ve always enjoyed playing. Practicing was always a good excuse to be alone if I wanted to be.”

“That sounds fun,” Laura says. “If Carina’s okay with it too. My bass is in the garage with the other instruments.”

“I’d like to try,” Carina says. “That sounds like fun!”

“I think so too!” Mantis agrees. “I’m not sure what we could play, but I’d like to try.”

“Well, what do you know?” Nebula asks. “Like did they just have you playing classical stuff?”

“Mostly, yes,” Mantis admits. “Or things that were written specifically for students learning violins.”

“I’m sure we could find some sheet music for you that wasn’t just those kinds of songs,” says Laura. “Or maybe we could mix them together? It could be an experiment.”

“I can sight-read decently,” Mantis says. “I would be willing to try!”

 

* * *

 

Gamora isn’t prepared to come home to a house full of clearly live rock music. As far as she knew, Carina and Nebula were spending their day off entertaining Mantis. (Not that they don’t sort of spend a lot of their collective evenings entertaining Mantis since she moved in, but that’s more offhand. This was a direct request on Gamora’s part.) She’s not sure what part of “listen to our band rehearse” is entertaining, exactly.

Not that their music is boring, of course, but rehearsal is different from performances.

Stifling the urge to roll her eyes, Gamora heads for the garage. “Uh, hey, guys, what are you doing?” she asks warily, almost warningly.

Carina is the first to notice her and she abruptly takes her hands off her keyboard. “Oh! Gamora, hi,” she exclaims. “We were just… playing around.”

“Hello!” Mantis says, waving eagerly. In one hand is a violin, the other a bow. That’s new.

“Explain?” Gamora prompts, more confused than anything now.

“She knows how to play the violin,” says Nebula with a shrug. “Laura suggested she try and play a couple songs with us. So we’re seeing if that works.”

“Oh,” Gamora says. “Is… it?” She’s aware of how awkward that sounds. She is. This is just a strange development.

“We’re gonna have to fuck around with it some, but it’s going okay.” Nebula looks over at Mantis. “I mean, if you’re liking this. You can totally tell us to fuck off if you want.”

“No!” Mantis exclaims. “I’m enjoying myself! This is very fun.” She nods enthusiastically as if to prove this point.

Nebula nods. “Cool.” She turns back to Gamora. “See? I’m including her. You said to be nice.”

“Yes,” Gamora echoes faintly. “It’s… certainly nice of you. I know you actually care about this band.”

Looking a little embarrassed, Nebula tosses her head. “Yeah, well, we needed to shake things up anyway.”

“Should we start again from the top?” asks Laura.

“Yeah, sure.” Nebula looks back at Gamora. “Anything else you wanted?”

“No,” Gamora says. “I just wasn’t expecting to hear… well.” She shrugs. “Uh, have fun.”

Nebula grunts a reply before saying to the others, “From the top!” and starting them off with a countdown tap on her drums.


	156. such a beautiful mess intertwined and overrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hosts a ridiculous wine-tasting party.

Maria narrows her eyes as they step into Tony’s backyard. “This is certainly happening,” she says dryly.

“I’m not sure who he thinks he’s fooling,” Maya sighs, glancing around. “Actually, it feels like an excuse to prove something, but I’m not sure what.”

Maria snorts. “Oh, absolutely.” She straightens her suit jacket a little and grins. “So, scale of one to ten, how ridiculous do you think his reaction to me is gonna be?”

“It could go either way,” Maya declares. “Either he’ll be pissed you thwarted his dumb rule or he’ll not say anything because he has uncomfortable thoughts. So either way, ten.”

“I’m just glad I had a suit that wasn’t that heavy,” says Maria. “Seriously, I don’t know what he’s thinking, it’s _July_.”

“Adults wear suits,” Maya deadpans. “That’s what it was. Adults wear suits, therefore if everyone wears suits he’s having an adult party.”

Rhodey spots them and comes over. “Oh, hey!” He’s wearing what looks like a much heavier suit and visibly sweating. “Nice seeing you guys.”

“You too,” Maya says. “Aren’t you really uncomfortable?”

Rhodey makes a face. “Yes? But, uh, y’know.” He shrugs. “I’m supporting Tony.”

“Sorry, man,” says Maria with a sympathetic laugh. “The backyard looks really fancy though. Did you and Pepper do that?”

Pepper glides over, looking way too classy for Tony’s backyard in a dress that was clearly courtesy of her employee discount. “Most of it,” she says. “The hard labor got pushed off on Happy, poor guy.”

“Oh, is he here?” Maria raises an eyebrow.

As if on cue, Happy dashes by holding a cooler.

“One of these days Tony is going to learn he can’t take advantage of Happy,” Maya says. “Or, you know. Present company.”

Rhodey chuckles. “Someday. Anyway. We’re not quite ready to start yet, but we’ve got some crackers for you guys to eat between tastings, if you wanna have some of those.” He nods over at a table with trays full of crackers and cheese.

“I kind of feel like we have to,” Maya muses. “Part of the terrible aesthetic or something.”

“Don’t say that in front of Tony,” Pepper sighs. “I think he thinks this is really a step up.”

Maria’s stepped over to grab a plateful of crackers, but she laughs from the table. “I guess in that the costumes are formal wear?”

“The internet promised him that this was a very classy way to spend your summer afternoon,” Pepper says conspiratorially. “I think he _is_ trying to make it so, but it’s not really working.”

“At least we know Tony won’t be cheap about the wine,” Rosalind drawls, sauntering up to the group and leading Coulson by the hand.

Coulson nods at everyone else. “Hey, everybody,” he says with a smile.

Maria’s eyes glimmer with amusement. “Hey,” she says. “You two are looking...sharp.” She puts just enough emphasis on the word that she knows Maya will get the joke.

True enough, Maya bites her lip to keep from snorting, then adds, “I wouldn’t have imagined you two would want to spend more time with Tony than you had to.”

Rosalind rolls her eyes and smiles indulgently. “Favor to Pepper,” she says. “Besides, I’m curious about whether or not the boy can pull it off. My money is on not.”

Bruce and Mack wander by. “Oh, hey, Maya,” Bruce says, nodding at her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Also a favor to Pepper,” Maya quips.

“I didn’t ask for a favor,” Pepper says.

“Yeah, but you mentioned this party, which means you had to be here, which means it was the nice thing to do to have your back amidst the crazy,” Maya explains.

“I honestly won’t disagree,” Pepper says, then turning her attention to Bruce and Mack. “How are you two doing, though?”

“Pretty well,” Mack says. “Work’s about the same as it always is. This one’s keeping himself busy with stuff I don’t even pretend to understand.” He pats Bruce’s shoulder fondly. “He did talk me into signing up for a robotics course at his school though. That starts in like a month, should be fun.”

Bruce beams. “I just thought he might be interested in applying some of the stuff he knows how to do with cars in a slightly different medium,” he says with a self-deprecating shrug.

“That sounds really interesting,” Pepper says encouragingly.

“Don’t let Tony find out, though,” Maya adds in a sarcastic whisper. “Robots are _his_ business.”

Mack snorts. “As if we don’t know half a dozen other people who make robots too.”

“No, but you’re on Tony’s _radar_ ,” Raina drawls, appearing seemingly out of nowhere with a glass of ice water in hand.

Mack blinks at her. “Didn’t realize you were coming,” he says, not impolitely.

“Oh, we wouldn’t dream of missing this,” Raina hums, and as she speaks Lorelei materializes beside her and drapes an arm around her waist. They are, it must be noted, wearing outfits that do fall into Tony’s hilariously formal dress code but also come rather obviously in their _Suicide Squad_ alter egos’ color schemes (Raina’s flower dress red-on-black, Lorelei’s fairy-floaty gown shades of green).

Rhodey smiles, like he’s a little puzzled. “Well, good to have you,” he says. “Like I was telling them, there’s crackers and cheese on the table over there, and we should be ready to start pretty soon.”

“Splendid,” Lorelei croons, though she looks as if she finds it less than splendid.

“Start...pretty soon?” Mack asks, sounding baffled. “I kinda just thought we were all just gonna stand around and drink wine and talk and stuff.”

“Oh, wine tastings are practically ceremonies,” Raina chimes in. “What’s today’s theme, anyway? Reds? Dessert wine? I’m sure Tony loves those.”

“They’re all from 2008,” Rhodey says, shrugging. “God knows why, but it’s what Tony picked. He thought Howard’s wine cellar had one of them, but it’s misplaced or something, so he’s looking for it.”

Bruce chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

A few more guests arrive, including Peter and Gwen, who are both wearing clothes that they clearly have only worn a maximum of twice before. Peter’s tugging on the sleeves of his suit jacket. “Hi,” he says when he spots Rhodey and Pepper. “We’re here!”

“This is certainly...something,” Gwen says, glancing around the backyard.

“Stark really did invite everyone,” Lorelei remarks.

“Where is he, anyway?” asks Rosalind. “I can’t imagine he’d let you host the party without him.”

Rhodey seems about to say something, when Tony suddenly appears. “Hi, everyone!” he says, loudly enough that they can all hear him. “Thanks for your patience, we’ve just been having a couple small technical difficulties, but we’ll be starting in just a minute!” He walks briskly over to the table where a few of the wine bottles are on display and starts to rearrange them.

Maria rolls her eyes. “So, this is going about as expected so far.”

Steve and his crew come in, looking variously wary and amused in turn. “So we’re not taking this seriously at all, right?” Bucky asks everyone who’s gathered in a low voice.

Raina shrugs, amused. “Depends on how seriously he takes it, I think.”

“You’re in for a good time,” Pepper says with a melodramatic sigh.

“Oh, we’re counting on it,” Sharon smirks.

Finally, the wines are all assembled and Tony invites everyone to sit in the variety of nice folding chairs he’s laid out. “Hello!” he says with a casual little wave to the assembled crowd (a couple dozen people). “So how many of you have been to a wine tasting before?”

“Does he want us to raise our hands?” Vanessa asks playfully.

“Goodness, I hope not,” Aida exclaims, rolling their eyes.

There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Tony coughs and says, “I actually kinda did want you to raise your hands, yeah.”

Elektra smirks and waves hers in the air. “Many times,” she says casually.

A few more people, including Aida, Pam, Raina, and T’Challa, end up raising their hands, looking mostly unsure about it. Pepper, for her part, nudges Tony and says, “I thought you weren’t supposed to make your guests feel intimidated by more experienced people.” Not that she thinks any of them _are_ , but it’s worth a mention since it was in the article Tony consulted.

Tony shrugs. “Whatever, it’s fine,” he mutters to her before continuing louder, “So, alright, I’ll demonstrate how this works. Happy and Pepper will come around to each of you and pour a bit of wine into your glass, then one everyone has a bit, we’ll all give it a sniff and maybe share our impressions from that. Then we’ll take a sip. If you’d prefer to spit it out rather than swallow, you’re welcome to. And yes, that _is_ what she said,” he says, just as a few people begin to snicker. “There are crackers and cheese for you to eat between tastings, we don’t want anyone getting wasted here. “Any questions?”

“Spit it out?” Kara calls, looking revolted.

“It’s what Dad used to do sometimes,” Tony says nonchalantly. “I always swallow, personally.”

“Just spit it out into the glass?” Karen adds.

“Well, it’s that or the ground, and I’d really prefer you didn’t do that, it’ll kill the grass,” says Tony.

“So swallow, is what you’re saying,” Karen sighs. Peter and Gwen snicker.

“Well, you’ll actually be getting new glasses for each wine, so you can spit it back in there if you want.”

“Christ,” mutters Natasha. “He really did commit to this whole fancy adult party thing.”

“For each one?” Steve asks, alarmed. “Isn’t that kind of wasteful?”

“I mean, we’re not throwing them _out,_ ” Tony says, starting to look irritated. “They’ll just bring you a new glass once you’re done with the old one.”

Sam snorts and nudges Sharon. “This is some rich white people nonsense,” he mutters with a smirk.

“That’s the name of Tony’s game,” Sharon sighs.

Pepper and Happy start to bring out the first round of glasses and pour the first wine, and Tony starts blathering on about it. Pretty much everyone tunes him out almost immediately. “Nice to meet you,” T’Challa says to Hope Van Dyne, who’s seated next to him. “You work at the same store as Tony, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Hope says. “I’m his manager. He would never forgive me if I didn’t drag my ass here, though, and I’m not interested in my worklife suffering that much. You?”

“We are friends, sort of.” T’Challa laughs. “I think he thinks we are closer than we are, but I haven’t been to a wine tasting in awhile. My father often brought me to them because he felt it would help me become accustomed to interacting with clients. He works in cell phones.”

“Ah, yeah,” Hope agrees, nodding. “My dad tried a couple of times, but he was an asshole, so I didn’t exactly feel inclined to go along with his suggestions.”

“So,” Tony says, calling everyone’s attentions back (apparently the preliminary sniffing has happened already), “what’s everyone’s impressions?”

There’s a long moment of silence before Peter says, “It’s very...um, white.”

 

* * *

 

Five or six wines in, some people seem to be holding their alcohol better than others, and the party has sort of devolved into people chatting as they sip wine casually. It is painfully obvious that Peter and Gwen haven’t had wine before, since they’re both red-faced and giggling. “You know,” Peter says cheerfully to no one in particular, “I totally built a robot! It talks. I can get it to do calculations for my homework twenty seven percent faster than me. It also works as a security system for the lab. It’s pretty damn cool, if I do say so myself. I named it Karen.”

“‘Scuse me?” Karen exclaims, laughing. “That’s kinda weird, kid.” As is her use of the word “kid” but hey, she’s a little tipsy as well.

Peter looks startled. “Oh! Uh, I mean, it’s not named after _you_ ,” he says quickly. “I picked it because, uh, um.” He glances over at Gwen. “Help?”

Gwen giggles. “He didn’t pick it because of you,” she says. “It was probably just bouncing around in his head. He’s got a lot up there.” She reaches to knock playfully on the side of Peter’s head and he leans away, laughing.

“But _Karen_?” Karen presses. “It’s kinda random, and this is coming from someone who got saddled with it.”

“Is it at least an acronym?” Aida asks, gazing coyly at Peter over their wineglass.

Peter shrugs lazily. “It could be. Kick Ass Robot...um...Energy…”

“That’s a terrible acronym,” says Gwen. “We’ll work on it.”

“I really didn’t mean to be weird!” Peter says, staring at Karen. “I mean, I like you, you’re nice, but I don’t _like_ you, not that way, I like her that way” - he points at Gwen - “and you have a girlfriend, and, um, y’know.”

“Goof,” Karen teases, but she lets it go.

“What, um, what the hell are we drinking this time?” Maya asks. She’s holding her alcohol fine, but she seems more flushed than usual. “It tastes like… citrus and nuts. Not a good combination, if you ask me.”

“Nuts,” Pam quietly repeats, nudging Hope and giggling. She’s done the whole wine tasting thing before, but it doesn’t make her good at it.

“I believe he said it was a madeira dessert wine,” says Elektra, smirking. “It’s not bad, but I’ve had better.”

Helen, who’s been quiet through most of this endeavor, looks at Tony and deadpans, “You could do better, but don’t take that as a challenge.”

“ _Please_ don’t take that as a challenge,” quips Bucky before taking a long sip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just had to throw shade on the MCU for recycling too many names.


	157. little spirit, now don't you desert me now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colleen starts a self-defense club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday was the third year anniversary of chapter 1 of this fic. If you're still here, or if you've started reading since then and are still reading, thank you so much! We hope you're still having fun, because we are. <3
> 
> Also this self-defense club is mostly for people who are not cisgender men, because, well. Eventually she might let Matt guest-teach or something.

“Wow, hi, you guys.” Colleen smiles a little nervously at the dozen or so people that are gathered in the gym. “This is a bigger turnout than I expected.”

Misty nudges her, rolling her eyes fondly. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she says.

Colleen shrugs and murmurs, “Just didn’t think this many people would care.” Then she adds, “So, first of all, why are you interested in this club? Mostly out of curiosity.”

“I appreciate that our girlfriend will defend us, but I’d like to be able to take care of myself too,” Jemma declares, squeezing Skye’s hand.

Skye grins. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I’ve read up on some self-defense techniques, but I thought you might know more about how to do it than if I try it by myself,” says Wanda.

“One thing I’ve learned from this town is how unexpected the world can be,” Hope offers. “I don’t want to get caught off-guard.”

Gwen shrugs. “I kinda just thought it’d be funny to know how to make Peter quit sneaking up on me and poking me in the ribs, but it’s practical.”

“I can’t _always_ have a taser on me,” Darcy smirks.

“I do not know what this will amount to,” Mantis declares brightly. “I want to find out!”

“Cool,” says Colleen. “Have any of you done self-defense or martial arts before, anything like that?”

“I’ve been taking private lessons a couple times a month from Isabelle,” Kara says, looking smug. “But her style is more like brawling. I figured this would be a good contrast.”

“Yeah,” grunts Nebula, and doesn’t offer to elaborate.

“I bit a Hydra guy on the arm once,” says Wanda. “And Pietro and I used to wrestle sometimes. Nothing too serious.”

“You’ll have to tell me more about the biting thing later,” says Colleen with a snort. “Anyone else?”

“Guessing you’re not talking about anything gun-related,” Karen smirks.

Aida raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased by that revelation. “I’ve found my way out of a perilous situation or two,” they remark, and they leave it at that.

“Mostly I just scream, but it usually helps,” Carina says.

“Alright.” Colleen nods, surveying the group. “How about other physical stuff? Sports or whatever.”

“I, uh, I run track,” Hope says sheepishly. “It’s... kinda what I do. A lot.”

“Dance,” Candace offers. “Kinda been doing it forever, one way or another.”

“I danced too!” Mantis says. “When I was little. I’m not very good at it though.”

MJ shrugs. “I mean, I’ve done theater but that’s just learning choreography and stuff.”

“Hey, it’s something,” says Colleen with a smirk. “So I think today we’ll just start with super basic, easy stuff, you don’t have to push yourself at all. Stretches first. Here, let’s start with the legs. Get yourselves in lines of four or five, so you can all see me.”

The group works to arrange themselves, making sure there’s enough room between them; the taller people (Aida and MJ and Karen and Nebula) wind up more in the back and the shorter (Carina - who is visibly apprehensive about being not right next to her wife but acknowledges that it makes sense since they’re literally the tallest and shortest ones there - and Darcy and Rogue and Jemma) are closer to the front and the others are scattered around the middle of the room.

“Lookin’ good,” Misty says, nodding to Colleen.

Colleen starts leading them in a series of stretches, going around to adjust people slightly as needed once they seem to be getting the hang of it without a visual aid. She’s firm but polite in her corrections and gives the ones who figure it out by themselves small nods of approval.

After about fifteen minutes of this, Colleen has them all stand up again and pair off to start basic moves. “Try to find someone who’s about the same height as you or only a couple inches off,” she says. “It’ll be easier to practice the moves.”

Mantis turns around and points to the first person she lays eyes on, who happens to be Aida. “I choose you!” she declares, apparently oblivious to the fictional catchphrase she’s employing.

Aida smirks and tosses their hair. “Flattering, Mantis,” they say. They’re a couple of inches taller if you disregard the giant bow on Mantis’ head (which obviously everyone is), but it’s not egregious.

“We haven’t been introduced,” Mantis remarks, blinking. “How do you know my name?”

Aida shrugs mysteriously.

Claire glances over at MJ. “You’re a little taller, but I guess you’re it,” she says with a grin.

“Sure.” MJ grins back. “Should be fun.”

Once they’re all paired off, Colleen has Misty stand in front of her and demonstrates a few basic moves that could either catch an attacker off-guard or temporarily stun them. “Please don’t actually hit your partner in the throat,” she says dryly after doing a careful knife hand strike on Misty’s neck.

“Please tell me if I actually hurt you,” Carina murmurs, eyes wide.

“Of course, but I’m sure you won’t,” Jemma replies, trying for soft. “I’ll try to duck if I have to, too.”

So reassured, Carina starts to try it out, looking vaguely awed.

Wanda’s careful to get her hand in precisely the right pose before gently swinging it at Hope’s neck. She stops just before, then does it again as if testing the feel of the movement. “Is that alright?” she asks Hope.

“Promise,” Hope says. “And hey, it’s not, uhm.” She stops for a second to gather her courage before finishing, “It’s not like you haven’t left bruises on my neck before. Y’know.”

That makes Wanda giggle. “I suppose,” she says, grinning. “But this wouldn’t be as pleasant.”

The next thing that Colleen demonstrates for them is how to get free from a wrist hold. “It’s basically impossible to pull your wrist away from someone stronger than you,” she says. “Here, try it from a couple angles, Misty.” She grabs onto Misty’s wrist and Misty tugs her arm back, then up, then down, making exaggerated noises of too much effort.

Colleen snorts fondly at her and then, still holding onto Misty’s wrist, adds, “See, you can try it but the odds of you pulling away if they have a good grip on you are pretty low. What you can do instead is get into a strong defensive stance, like this…” She pauses to demonstrate, widening her stance and bending her knees so that she’s lower to the ground. “Now you,” she says to Misty, who obliges.

“Then what you’re gonna wanna do is lean forward so that your elbow is almost touching their elbow, and snap it back so they have no choice but to let go of you.” Colleen helps Misty demonstrate this slowly, so that everyone can see it. “See? I’m forced to let go of her because my arm physically can’t bend that way.”

“Is there any way this can, you know, go wrong?” Carina asks.

“It could,” acknowledges Colleen. “The main thing you’ll want to be sure of is keeping your balance and keeping your head ducked as you go down. It’s possible that the other person could see you going for this and try to elbow you in the face, or something similar. But most people will be so surprised you’ll have a second or two to make a break for it. Here, I’ll show you in real-time.” She grabs Misty’s wrist again and gives her an encouraging nod. Misty does the move again, faster this time, and once she gets her wrist free of Colleen’s grip she turns as if to run away. “Okay,” says Colleen, “now you guys try it. I want you to try out the stances first, so I can make corrections if I need to.”

“Wonder when she’s gonna teach us how to SING,” Darcy smirks.

Rogue snickers. “You would reference _Miss Congeniality_ at something like this.”

“Proudly and openly,” Darcy agrees.

Everyone obediently gets into positions, and Colleen surveys them. “Skye, your stance is great,” she says. “Not pointing your toes in too far, that’s great.”

Skye grins and tosses her head. “See, I’d be the best Jaeger pilot,” she says to her partner, Candace.

“I wasn’t arguing it,” Candace chuckles.

Once Colleen has them trying out the move, she walks around the room watching all of them. “Careful,” she says as Gwen almost goes flying forward. “Remember, balance.”

Gwen looks sheepish. “Yeah, I’m really not much for balancing,” she says with a grin. “Sorry,” she adds to Kara. “At least I haven’t knocked you over yet by accident.”

“I’m good at picking myself back up again,” Kara replies, grinning.

They have a few minutes to practice that, then Colleen says, “I think that’s pretty good for the first meeting,” she says with a smirk. “How’re you all doing?”

“Eh,” grunts Nebula, shrugging.

Karen rolls her eyes playfully. “You’ve been loving this,” she teases.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have to know that,” mutters Nebula. But her eyes are glimmering.

Colleen rolls her eyes too, and then says, “Alright, let’s do a few cooldown stretches and then you guys can leave if you want. I’m thinking I’ll try doing this every couple weeks if it works out with my schedule, and I’ll text you a week or so before each meeting. Totally optional, no pressure to show up. That sound good?”

There’s a few spoken yeses and yeahs and more nods. After the last few stretches, Colleen glances at Misty. “How’d I do?” she asks quietly.

“Really damn good,” Misty promises. “You’re kind of a natural at this, y’know.”

Colleen smiles. “Yeah? You think?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” Misty says.


	158. don't feel the summer like I used to, oh you brought thunder, tugged me under, it's all your fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill takes his family (and "family") to the beach.

“I still don’t get why I’m here,” grumbles Nebula, folding her arms. “This is bull…” She pauses, in anticipation of Gamora’s scolding if she swears excessively in front of Ace, and then finishes. “...lying. I feel bullied. Or something.”

“You can say it,” Ace pipes up from the backseat. “I hear bad words all the time. Some of my friends used to go in a corner on the field at recess and just say bad words to each other.”

“Your dad trusted me with you,” Gamora sighs, not taking her eyes off the road.

“I know,” Ace shrugs. “And thanks for letting me come even though Dad got called in.”

“You’re welcome,” Gamora says, because it’s important to model politeness. Or something.

Nebula snorts. “You’re being ridiculous,” she mutters to Gamora.

“I’m trying to be good,” Gamora corrects under her breath.

“I don’t really understand what we’re doing,” Laura chimes in. “I know we’re going to the beach, but I’m not really sure why so many of us are going. Also, I know Cessily didn’t have to work until after I asked her if she wanted to come, but I also know she can’t be out in the sun very long, so it’s okay.”

Gamora rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t describe it as ‘bullying,’ but Quill wasn’t going to let it drop until we all agreed to go,” she says. “He wants to teach Mantis how to surf, apparently. And we all have to be present because he’s Quill and he’s ridiculous.”

Carina smiles shyly. “It’s not going to be the worst afternoon,” she says. “I mean, we all like each other’s company, more or less.”

“I guess this is the episode where we learn about how friendship is magic, or something,” snarks Nebula.

“Pretty sure we’ve already had that episode,” Carina replies blithely. “Why else would we all still be friends?”

 

* * *

 

“-and while Lennon read a book on Marx the quartet practiced in the park, and we sang dirges in the dark the day the muuuuuusic died!”

“What does this song have to do with pie?” Mantis asks.

“Whatever you want it to, hon,” Meredith replies with a cheerful shrug. “It’s music. You get to decide what it means to you.”

“Oh,” Mantis says. “That makes sense. Sort of.”

“It’s kinda about Buddy Holly’s death,” explains Quill. “But kinda not? Nobody really knows.” He shrugs and launches back into belting out the lyrics without missing a beat.

“I always kind of just thought it was, y’know, hashtag-aesthetic,” Darcy says. “For the generation or something. Am I talking out my ass, Meredith?”

“I don’t think so,” Meredith says. “But like I said, it’s up to you what you think.”

“Cool,” Darcy sighs happily. “You’re cool, Meredith. Why aren’t you _my_ mom?”

“Aw, I’m sure your mom’s cool too,” Meredith says, but she’s very much preening.

“She’s not… _not_ cool,” Darcy says. “But she’s not the singalong type. And she’s definitely not the recreational plant substances type. She’s more normal-mom.”

“Yeah, I know my mom’s the best,” says Quill, not sounding humble at all. “Glad you agree.”

MJ laughs. “She’s pretty cool, alright.”

 

* * *

 

In Drax’s van, there’s been an ongoing debate about what music to put on.

“Can’t go wrong with some good jazz,” Remy says. “It’s great for _any_ mood.” He winks at Rogue.

Rogue rolls her eyes. “I’m not making out with you in this car, Remy.”

“I think that sounds nice!” says Drax cheerfully.

“My iPod’s got Adele’s new album on it,” offers Joey. “Or Carly Rae Jepsen’s.”

“That also sounds good!” Drax replies. “My favorite is the one where she talks about boy problems.”

“Oh my god, _no,_ ” groans Rogue.

“Well, do _you_ have any ideas?” Joey asks.

“Yeah, c’mon, _cher_ ,” encourages Remy. “What d’you like? I know you played me that Natalia Kills girl once.”

Rogue seems embarrassed and glares at him. “I didn’t bring anything,” she mutters.

“I also have The Wanted,” offers Joey.

“Don’t know them,” Remy says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, they’re kind of poppy,” Joey says, but is interrupted by Rogue groaning again.

This goes on until suddenly Drax announces, “We are nearly at the beach!”

“Oh,” says Joey, seeming startled. “I guess having music on doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

“Someone wake Swift,” says Drax a few minutes later as he pulls into a parking spot. “She will most likely want to run around.”

 

* * *

 

“I probably don’t need to tell you to stay in sight of one of us no matter what,” Gamora says to Ace. “Shouting distance, preferably.”

“I know,” Ace says, rolling his eyes playfully. “I don’t wanna run off, I just wanna play with the dog.” As he’s saying this, Drax comes over, holding Swift’s leash.

“Hello!” Drax says, grinning at Ace. “You’ve met Swift before. She likes you.”

“Good!” Ace replies. “She have a nice drive?”

“I suppose. She slept for most of it. We were discussing what music to put on but we were too busy discussing to put on any music.” Drax laughs. “Swift will want to go for a walk now, though. Do you want me to show you how? She’s not hard to walk, she’s not a very strong dog and won’t pull away from you.”

“Yeah!” Ace exclaims. “I wanna learn how to do dog-owner stuff. We can’t get one right now, but I wanna be prepared.”

Drax nods. “That is a good idea. Follow me.” He leads Swift off, beckoning for Ace to follow.

“See?” Carina says to Gamora. “He’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.”

“You’re not the one who actually has to be responsible,” Gamora points out. “But I guess as kids go he’s pretty easy.”

“Swimsuit time!” Quill announces, shucking off his T-shirt. “Time to get in, everybody!”

MJ looks dubiously at the water, then up at the sky, which is clear, but it’s not exactly a sweltering day even if it’s early August. “Uh, I’m gonna just tan, I think,” she says diplomatically.

“I’m not taking anything off,” grunts Nebula, grabbing a towel and umbrella and going to set them out.

Carina sighs playfully. “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I do,” she says to her wife, pulling her dress over her head to reveal the kind of vintage-looking white one-piece that isn’t actually for getting wet.

Quill glances around at the others, most of whom don’t seem especially keen on disrobing either, and sighs. “Whatever. You ready, Mantis?” He grabs two surfboards out of the Milano’s trunk.

“Not really,” Mantis says, “but I don’t think I’m ever going to be _really_ ready. Let’s try anyway!”

 

* * *

 

Later, Quill and Mantis are taking a break in the lessons (Mantis is actually doing pretty well, and has only fallen off the board a few times) and most of them are lounging on the beach, fairly close to one another. Ace and Swift are playing fetch nearby. So, with an eager grin, Meredith takes this moment to ask, “Anyone want some weed?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Darcy exclaims. “You’re the coolest weed mom. Can I call you Weed Mom?”

Meredith laughs. “I know you mean it as a compliment,” she says cheerfully.

“I should keep an eye on Ace,” Gamora says in lieu of outright saying no.

“I don’t like how it makes my head feel,” Mantis murmurs apologetically. “I don’t mind if you smoke, it’s not bad secondhand. I just… don’t.”

“You have to know your limits,” Meredith says with a wise nod.

“Not today,” says Remy with a shrug. “How ‘bout you, _cherie_?”

Rogue glances at MJ. “Wanna split one?”

“Sure. Might as well, seeing as it’s my name and all,” says MJ with a grin.

Joey also takes a casual puff or two, watching Swift and Ace together. “Glad they’re having fun,” he says. “He’s a good kid.”

“I don’t hate him,” agrees Nebula. “Which is basically a miracle.”

“It really is,” Carina agrees, turning her head slightly to avoid an onslaught of pot smell (definitely not her favorite thing).

They all sort of drift off to their own conversations after that. Remy grins over at Rogue. “You look good,” he says, nodding at Rogue’s black-and-red bikini.

Rogue tosses her head, pleased. “Thanks. I’m pale as shit, but I figured it wouldn’t be the worst idea to get some sun. You don’t look so bad yourself,” she says, blatantly eyeing him.

“Oh my god, get a room,” groans Nebula. Rogue makes a face at her.

 

* * *

 

After a couple of hours, Gamora starts herding everyone towards getting ready to leave. She’s just about to go call for Ace when he comes running over, looking excited. “Guys, a dog!” he yells, beaming.

“Yes,” says Drax, confused. “Swift has been here all day, and she’s a dog.”

“No, I mean, I found a dog! A new dog,” Ace explains, waving at a cheerful and entirely stupid-looking yellow dog that trots over. “He doesn’t have a collar or anything.”

“Oh my god,” Quill says, grinning. “That dog is too long _and_ too short. And it looks, um…” He glances at Gamora before saying, “I think we should call it Stoney!”

“Stoney,” Meredith repeats sagely, chuckling. “Perfect.”

Gamora glares at him, clearly horrified. “One, _no_ ,” she exclaims, although she does see the logic (the dog’s eyes seem to be perpetually 25% closed in a way that Quill’s get when _he’s_ stoned). “And two, we’re not _keeping_ him. We’re taking him to the vet or something. Don’t they put chips in them now?”

Nebula looks even more horrified, if that’s possible. “Do we have to?” she asks. “I mean, it hasn’t died wandering around on the beach.”

“But it’s so cute!” MJ says, offering her hand for the dog to sniff. “And stupid-looking. It looks like maybe a corgi and Shiba mix? Something weird like that.”

“I love him,” Mantis declares simply, kneeling to introduce herself. “His body looks like it was stretched out and his legs were made shorter. Like Photoshop!”

“We shouldn’t leave him here,” Drax says. “If we do, he might be injured or killed by larger creatures on the beach, or pulled into the ocean by the strong tide.”

“We can’t let him get hurt!” Ace gasps. “He’s such a good boy. See?” He turns to the dog and instructs, “Sit!” The dog sits, fluffy tail wagging. “Shake!” The dog offers a paw clumsily. “And, y’know, other ones. There are other dog tricks, I just forgot.”

“Shit,” Gamora mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](http://good.barkpost.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/shiba-inu-corgi-mix.jpg?q=70&fit=crop&crop=entropy&w=808&h=808) Stoney. Stoney the weed dog.


	159. an unsung melody is mine for safekeeping and I will guard it with my life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone new shows up in Mack's life.

When Bruce sees the text from Mack, he tries really hard not to worry about it.

_Can you come over after class? I need to talk to you about something._

Mack’s not usually vague, but Bruce is _pretty_ sure he wouldn’t say something like that if he wanted to break up. Or would he? Bruce shakes his head and does his best to concentrate on what he’s supposed to be doing, but it’s hard since it’s a test day and everything is silent. He’s basically just babysitting while Dr. Streiten is in a meeting.

Finally, the last student turns in his paper, and Bruce practically trips out the door, he’s running so fast. He drives over to Mack’s, trying to ignore how his hands are shaking.

When he opens the door, Mack looks serious, but he smiles at him. “Hey. C’mon in, you want a drink or anything?”

“No, I’m okay.” Bruce runs his hand through his hair. Mack’s behaving normally, other than the weird expression, so maybe it’s not about him at all.

Once they’re both sitting on Mack’s couch, Mack coughs. “So. You’ve probably seen the pictures of the little girl I have scattered around, right?”

There are a few, of an adorable little girl from babyhood to toddlerhood. Bruce has noticed them, but didn’t ask since it didn’t seem relevant, and Mack never brought it up. “Yeah.” Bruce cocks his head. “Who is she, your niece or something?”

“Not exactly.” Mack takes a deep breath, and then pauses for a second. “She’s...she’s my daughter. Hope.”

Bruce blinks at him. “Um,” he says. Then he’s not sure what else to say.

Mack says, “It’s kind of a long story, and I should’ve told you earlier. But it’s kind of complicated and I wasn’t sure how you’d take it at first. And then it was just...weird to bring up.” He chuckles, sort of self-deprecating. “Anyway, I’ll just start from the beginning.

“Nicole was my best friend since middle school. We were basically inseparable - we liked all the same stuff, hung out every day after school, y’know how it goes. Well, I knew I was gay when I was pretty young, and she was the first person I told and she was super cool about it, and didn’t even care when people started making fun of us for hanging out and saying we were dating and stuff. We were tight. Well, in high school she had a series of shitty boyfriends, just real assholes, and sometime around junior year she started making jokes about how we should probably just get married and then have an open marriage, since she really wanted kids and I like kids too. It became a running joke, but then she went to Chicago State and the joke kind of petered out. I forgot about it.”

“Okay,” Bruce says, nodding.

“Then she came back a few years ago for some wedding a friend of hers was having - it was before we met,” Mack says, nodding at Bruce. “She spent like a month here because she was a bridesmaid or something. Anyway, we didn’t have a ton of time to hang out but when I took her out for drinks, she mentioned she was still having bad luck with dudes. I brought up the marriage thing, mostly as a joke, and then she started crying. Said half her friends back home already had kids and she was starting to worry she’d never find anybody to be with, but she still really wanted kids, and, well…” Mack trails off for a minute before continuing. “Basically I offered to, uh, donate sperm.”

“Oh,” says Bruce. It’s a relief, even though he didn’t really think Mack would cheat on him. “So you…?”

“We found a place that would store it and ship it back for her when she got home,” finishes Mack. “Hope was born about a year later - I guess it took her a little while to get the money together, even though I sent her what I could. She just turned four in April. I’m listed on her birth certificate, and I met her once when she was a few months old, but Nicole and I agreed it’d probably be easier on all of us if I wasn’t super involved. She sends me Christmas cards with pictures, and Hope knows she has a dad who lives in another state, but that’s about it.”

Bruce nods. “Alright. So then…?” He’s not sure where this is going.

Mack sighs, suddenly looking sad. “Well, Nicole called me a couple months ago to tell me she’s been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Prognosis wasn’t good. She doesn’t have much family left, and she doesn’t want Hope to go into foster care, so she was...wondering if I would…” He stops, sounding choked up.

“Oh,” Bruce says. “I’m sorry.” He grabs Mack’s hand and squeezes it.

“I’m okay,” Mack says, though his voice is still a little rough. “But. Yeah. I know it’s a lot to spring on you, but Nicole’s...she’s not doing well and she wants me to come sign the paperwork to take Hope as soon as I can. I booked a flight to Chicago for Friday.”

“Jesus,” replies Bruce. “What can...I mean, is there anything I can do to help?” He glances around Mack’s apartment, which isn’t a disaster but definitely isn’t childproof.

“Not at this point. I’m gonna do what I can do get this place into shape for her before I have to leave, but there might not be time. I need to buy a bed and stuff. I guess she can sleep in the living room till we can find a new place with two bedrooms. Work’s being super cool about it, giving me a bit of time off after we get back to figure stuff out. Anyway.” Mack looks at him, seeming nervous. “I know you’re not much for kids, so...I figured you should know first.”

Bruce shrugs. “I actually don’t mind some kids. I think your kid would be okay.” He smiles. “I’ll try my best, anyway.”

Mack is visibly relieved, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you,” he says. “I know it’s weird.”

“It’s weird, but it’s not any weirder than some of the other stuff we’ve had to deal with,” says Bruce with a shrug. “It’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

Four days later, Mack is finding out what flying with a young child is like.

It’s actually not that bad - Hope is curious, asking a lot of questions about how the plane works, and Mack does his best to answer them (internally vowing to buy her an age-appropriate book on planes when they get home). She’s surprisingly well-behaved, all things considered. She only has one small temper tantrum, and it was because he’d forgotten to get her lunch - that’s easily fixed. Soon enough they’re home, and he’s got her tucked into the kid-size bed that he’s squeezed into his living room, and he’s laid himself out on the couch (because by the time he’d finished reading her a bedtime story he was tired enough that it didn’t seem worth going down the hall to his own bed, and anyway, what if she needed something in the middle of the night?).

He wakes up to someone poking him on the arm.

“Dad,” Hope says insistently. “Daddy, wake up.”

He grunts and opens his eyes. “Oh, hi,” he murmurs. “What time is it?”

“Mommy didn’t teach me how to read clocks yet,” she points out. “I dunno.”

“Oh, right.” He fumbles around on the floor for his phone. It’s just after eight. “Good morning. What do you want for breakfast, honey?”

She blinks, clearly a little jarred by all of this but not unhappy about it. “Pancakes?”

“Okay, just a sec.” Mack sits up, rubbing his eyes. “D’you want milk or juice?” He bought both, since Nicole hadn’t mentioned drinks specifically, but he figures most kids at least like one or the other.

“What kinda juice?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Um, apple. I can get something else later if you want. Your mom didn’t say what kind of juice you like.” Then he winces. The doctors told him to try to avoid mentioning Nicole around Hope until he was sure she was feeling comfortable and happy in her new environment. Once she felt established, he was supposed to find her a child therapist to help her process everything. She’d apparently talked some with Nicole’s in-home nurse, so she wasn’t totally in the dark. But for now, he was just supposed to try to keep things light while she adjusted.

She scrunches up her nose. “Apple’s okay,” she says after a moment. “I like orange better, but apple’s good.”

“Okay. I’ll start on the pancakes. You wanna watch cartoons?” he offers. “I have Netflix.”

Hope nods. “You pick one?” she suggests, because she wants to know what he likes and also doesn’t really want to make decisions right now.

“Sure, yeah.” He gets up to turn on the TV and scrolls through the kids’ cartoons for a bit before he lands on _My Little Pony._ “How about this?” he asks. He hasn’t really seen much of it, but it seems harmless.

“ _My Little Pony_ is good,” she agrees. “Twilight Sparkle is cool. She lives in a library.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, letting it load. “I haven’t seen it, actually.”

She shrugs. “I’ve only seen a little,” she says. “We can start at the beginning if you want.”

“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’ll listen from the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods. “Can I come sit on the couch?”

“Of course.” He quickly pulls off the sheets he’d haphazardly draped over the couch. “Want a pillow?”

“Yes please,” she says with a sweet smile.

“Here.” He hands it to her. “D’you want anything special in your pancakes? I can put chocolate chips in them, or blueberries.”

“Chocolate chips?” she asks, hugging the pillow to her chest.

Mack smiles and pats her shoulder fondly, and goes to make pancakes.

They spend a few hours watching _My Little Pony_ and eating chocolate chip pancakes until he gets a text from Bruce. _Is it okay if I swing by? Do you need help?_

He finishes the bite in his mouth and says, “Hope, do you mind if some people come over? They’re gonna help me clean this place up a little so we’ll have some more space.”

“I get to meet your friends?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “Bruce is coming over, and I’m gonna see if my friend Bobbi can come too. She might bring her girlfriend, Audrey-” he figures “girlfriend” is easier for a four year old to understand than “woman she goes on dates with sometimes” since “fuckbuddy” is obviously off the table “-and Audrey has a dog.”

Hope’s eyes light up. “Really? Can the dog come over too?”

“I’ll ask, but I think so.” Mack pauses the TV and texts Bruce _Yes_ before calling Bobbi. “Hey,” he says when she picks up. “You busy?”

“Nah,” she says, sounding like she only recently woke up. “What’s going on?”

“Hope’s here with me,” he says. “We were wondering if you wanted to come over and help out a little. Maybe bring Audrey and Ajax?”

Bobbi presumably puts her hand over her phone before saying, “Hey, Audrey, wanna go entertain Mack’s daughter with your dog?” The answer is clearly a positive one, because soon Bobbi turns back to the conversation with Mack and says, “We can do that. When do you want us over?”

“Anytime is fine. Bruce is coming over in about half an hour. We’re just hanging out, watching cartoons.”

“We’ll aim for half an hour too, then,” she says. “See you then. Can I, uh, bring you anything?”

“Nah, not right now. We’re good.” Mack glances over at Hope, who’s giggling at something the ponies are doing.

“Cool,” Bobbi declares, sounding relieved. (Kids _so_ aren’t her thing.) “Be there soon, then.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce shows up right on time, holding a gift bag and looking sort of sheepish. “Hi,” he says. Once he’s inside, he kneels down so he’s on Hope’s level and offers his hand. “I’m Bruce.”

“Hi, Bruce,” Hope says seriously. “I’m Hope. You’re Daddy’s friend?”

Bruce glances at Mack. “Um,” he says, clearly unsure how to answer.

“Bruce is actually my boyfriend,” says Mack. “I didn’t have time to explain it before, sorry.” That’s not exactly true, but he didn’t want to explain while surrounded by strangers, and they hadn’t had a lot of privacy before they got home. But Nicole said she had gay friends, so the concept probably won’t come as a shock to Hope.

“Oh,” Hope nods, smiling. “Cool. S’nice to meet you, Bruce the boyfriend.”

Bruce laughs. “Just Bruce is okay. I brought you a present.” He nudges the bag forward.

Hope looks at her dad for permission or something like it before she opens the bag and pulls out a tiny, bright-green microscope. This was clearly a good decision, since she starts absolutely grinning. “Thank you, Bruce!’

“It comes with some slides,” he says quickly, like he’s not sure how much she’ll know. “Water drops, and a couple of dead bugs, and sugar, I think?”

“Bruce is a scientist,” says Mack, smiling. “He’s really smart. Good call,” he adds to Bruce. “She was asking about the plane during the flight. She’s smart.”

“Good,” says Bruce, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Anyway. Where should we start?”

“Kitchen, maybe?” Mack looks at Hope. “D’you wanna keep watching _My Little Pony_ while we work, or should I get out some of your toys?”

“Toys,” Hope says assuredly. “We can watch more together later.”

“Okay. Hang out with her a sec while I grab one of the boxes,” Mack says to Bruce. As he steps into the other room, which is where he had to cram most of the boxes (turns out you have to have a _lot_ of stuff with kids), he hears Hope asking Bruce about what kind of scientist he is.

He retrieves a few stuffed animals, a tub of Lincoln Logs and a set of markers taped to the front of a notebook. “Here,” he says. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything, okay? Just come get me.”

“Okay,” she promises.

Bobbi and Audrey show up maybe fifteen minutes later (Audrey pointed out it might be a good idea to give Bruce a few minutes to introduce himself without interruptions) with Ajax in tow, and Bobbi announces their arrival with a loud set of knocks.

“Hey,” Mack says once the door is open. “C’mon in. We’re working on the kitchen. Audrey, if you wanna hang out with Hope and Ajax you can.”

“Probably should to start,” Audrey agrees, tugging Ajax through the door and trying to keep him from running wild sniffing every single thing.

“Uh, hi, Hope,” Bobbi calls as they all walk in. “I’m Bobbi, this is Audrey, and _this_ is Ajax.”

“He’s friendly,” Audrey promises, smiling.

“Hi, Bobbi, Audrey, and Ajax,” Hope chirps. “C’mere, Ajax!” She’s still on the couch, so they can’t tell for sure, but it’s very likely that Ajax is technically taller than her; this just makes her interest in him even cuter.

Mack smiles. “Okay, we’ll be in the kitchen. Call us if you need anything.” He gestures for Bobbi and Bruce to follow him.

“So you seem like you’re settling in okay,” Bobbi says, leaning against the counter casually.

Mack nods. “She’s a pretty good kid. Really smart. I don’t know that she really knows what’s going on, but she asks tons of questions and the in-home nurse said she’d told her some stuff, so. But yeah, she’s adjusting okay so far.”

“Okay, that’s good, but I was kinda asking about you,” Bobbi presses.

He chuckles. “Okay, okay, fine. I’m...I’m okay. I mean, Nicole’s...she’s not doing great, she basically wanted me to take Hope now so she gets used to me. That part sucks. And it’s a little weird that I’ve got a tiny person to take care of now. But I think we’ll be okay.”

“You’re good with her,” Bruce says encouragingly. “You’ll figure it out.”

Bobbi nods, putting a hand on Mack’s shoulder for a second. “Well, I’m sorry about the shit parts of it,” she says. “But yeah, you’re definitely well-suited to this. And she seems… not insufferable, so that helps.”

“High praise, coming from you,” teases Mack.

“Yeah, well,” Bobbi laughs. “She’s your kid, so she can’t suck too much, right?”

That makes him laugh for real. “Thanks. I think. Anyway. So she’s probably old enough not to go around sticking stuff in outlets, but I bought some covers just in case…”

 

* * *

 

Later in the evening, after everyone’s gone home and they’ve had dinner (mac and cheese, he’s not fancy and Hope doesn’t seem to mind), Mack asks her, “Did you have fun today?”

“I did!” she says eagerly. “Ajax is a cute dog, and Audrey’s really nice. So are Bobbi and Bruce.” She looks at him for a second. “He makes you smile.”

“He does,” Mack agrees. “I love him. So I’m glad you like him too.”

“Then I bet I’m gonna love him too,” she declares.

He smiles and then pauses for a second before adding, “Hope, I wanna be a good daddy for you, but I’m still learning how. Promise me you’ll tell me if something I do really upsets you, okay? I don’t wanna mess up.” The parenting book he frantically skimmed on the flight to Chicago hadn’t had much to say about what to say in situations like this, but he figures children respond well to honesty.

Her expression turns serious when his does, though, and she nods along like it makes perfect sense. “I will, promise.”

“Good.” Then he asks, “You wanna watch a movie before bedtime? I went and got some just for you. _Robin Hood_ and _Wall-E_ and _Chicken Run_.” He’d basically run down the children’s movies aisle at work and grabbed a few that he knew didn’t involve dead parents.

“I like _Wall-E_ ,” Hope declares. “It’s about robots. I like robots.”

“Good,” he says, getting up to put the DVD in. “I like robots too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Nicole. We've been watching Flash lately, and also canon sort of sidestepped Hope's mom anyway so we figured this was the kindest option in this universe.


	160. though I may be going down, I'm taking flame over burning out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a roller derby match. The other team is a unique experience.

“Friendship City?” Colleen wrinkles her nose. “That’s...a weird team name.”

Jessica snorts outright. “It’s _stupid_ is what. No wonder these guys don’t win ever.”

Luke chuckles as both teams skate lazily around the track, warming up. “Most of them aren’t great on skates,” he says, not unkindly. “Might be part of it.”

“Maybe they’re saving it for the match,” Misty suggests. “Could be a strategy thing.”

“I like the name,” Foggy says cheerfully. “It’s kinda nice. Anyway, isn’t this whole thing about having fun?”

“Well, yeah,” Karen shrugs. “But usually it’s a little less cutesy. It’s also about hitting people and stuff, so.”

Matt chuckles. “Not everyone names stuff like you, Fog.”

Foggy looks affronted and huffs. “ _Well_ , if everyone named teams the same way I did maybe the world would be a better place!”

‘You serious?” Misty asks, adding after a moment spent glancing at her program, “Besides, it’s not like _Sparrow_ City is all that much more menacing.”

“I don’t know,” chimes in Elektra idly, “our girls look plenty fierce to me.”

Instead of getting jealous about it, of course, Vanessa reacts by surveying the home team intently. “Must be something in our water,” she remarks, nudging her girlfriend, “it’s not just our derby girls who make an impressive showing.”

Preening, Elektra leans against Vanessa. “Thank you, darling,” she purrs.

“Always,” Vanessa replies, possessively draping an arm around Elektra’s shoulders.

Foggy looks slightly terrified. “So Kara’s looking good,” he says, in the way of someone who is trying to change the subject.

“Kara always looks good,” Karen points out, smirking in a way that definitely isn’t changing the subject.

“Ew,” says Colleen playfully. “Get a room.”

“We’re gonna, after the match,” Karen replies smugly.

Foggy looks as if he’s about to protest this blatant disregard for his attempts to change the subject, but then the buzzer sounds and the announcer starts to call out the introductions for the first jam. “Oh good,” Foggy says brightly. “They’re starting.”

In this first jam, the Sparrow City team’s new Jammer, Annabelle, takes her spot alongside Hope V., Trish, and Ororo at the starting line, acting as offense for now. The four players on Friendship City’s team are called Florence Fightengale, Nellie Die, Betty Clocker, and their jammer, Margaret Banger.

“Is their whole team named after real women?” Colleen asks. “I guess that’s kinda cool.”

“It’s cohesive,” Misty shrugs. “That’s something?”

Luke smirks. “Something like that.”

It becomes very obvious very fast that only half of this team is any good at skating, let alone defensive moves. Their jammer is doing her very best to get through the round, but she’s about five seconds from falling over at any given time, and one of her blockers isn’t much better. The other two hold their own, and manage to fend off Hope and Ororo, who don’t seem interested in going easy on the other team. Trish is gentler, clearly taking pity as Margaret Banger struggles to skate by; she edges out of the way, not even subtly, with a worried frown.

“Oh, are you kidding me?” yells Jessica. “Bullshit!”

“You can’t be surprised by that,” says Luke dryly. “You know how she is.”

“No, but it was stupid,” Jessica grumbles. “Don’t just _hand_ them points, goddammit.”

“It’s not like they’re getting any otherwise,” Karen points out, nodding to the track: Florence Fightengale spins into the wall in her attempt to shove Annabelle out of the way, and they’re allowed to laugh because she doesn’t get hurt or anything.

Foggy winces. “Yeah, okay, I’m starting to see why they picked the name now.”

“Sounds bad,” says Matt. “If the constant groaning I’m hearing is anything to go by.”

“They’re not good,” confirms Colleen. “One of them just spun off into the wall. She’s okay, but it looked embarrassing.”

“I suppose it’s possible that they haven’t warmed up yet,” Vanessa muses, “but it seems unlikely.”

“Nellie Die and Betty Clocker are okay,” Misty says halfheartedly.

Elektra nods. “They do know how to skate and how to hit. Still, I’d be shocked if they finish this round with five points.”

“And if they get five points, it’ll be ‘cause Trish gives them away,” mutters Jessica, rolling her eyes. “Stupid philanthropy.”

“Doesn’t that kinda imply charity?” Karen asks. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far.”

“What else would you call it? She just _let_ them get that point.”

“Mercy, maybe?” Karen suggests halfheartedly.

“I guess,” snorts Jessica. “It’s stupid.”

By the end of that round, Friendship City has three points, and even then they seem sort of surprised about it. “Maybe they’ll get better,” Carina says hopefully, watching the Friendship City girls with wide eyes.

Nebula laughs. “No, I think they’re just bad.”

“I mean, success is variable,” quips Tegan, who came invited by Darcy (not _quite_ on a date, it seems, but maybe getting there). “I think their success is measured by not being dead yet.”

“At least they try hard and believe in themselves,” says MJ, only a bit sarcastic.

The match continues with the next jam, which is only slightly less embarrassing because it seems someone on Friendship City’s team at least knew how to put together a decent offensive team. At least one of them, going by the name Slayonce, actually manages to keep Annabelle behind her for a little while.

“See, that’s better,” Foggy says, in the sort of tone you’d use to talk to a child who was struggling with homework.

“Sounds fake, but okay,” Karen drawls, before she stands and (somewhat unnecessarily, because there’s really no other loudness going on) shouts, “Go, Unfragile!”

Somewhere in the middle of one of the jams, one girl - whose derby shirt, perhaps fittingly, says Kim Karbashian - pauses in the middle of the track to check her makeup in a tiny mirror. “That’s...a choice,” Natasha snarks.

Steve sighs, like he’s somehow disappointed that this girl is disrespecting the honest fun that is roller derby. “I like it better when everyone is committed,” he says.

“You would,” Sam says, elbowing him fondly. “You’re always two hundred percent committed to everything.”

“Well,” Steve rationalizes, “our team is really going for it. This must be sort of…” He makes a face. “A let-down.”

Bucky grins. “Hey, it’s an easy victory. Plus our girl is looking great.” He whoops and claps wildly as Sharon speeds past.

“She sure does,” replies Natasha, blatantly staring at Sharon’s ass.

On the track, Hope slams into the blonde going by Karen Horney, who goes flying and then, seeming affronted, sits down on the track, arms crossed. “What the fuck?” asks Jessica.

“ _Karen Horney_?” Karen mutters, shaking her head. “I’ve heard of some of these, but that’s gotta be made up.”

Foggy whips out his phone and, after a second of googling, says, “Karen Horney was a German psychoanalyst who like, founded feminist psychology and challenged a bunch of Freud’s ideas. If that helps.”

Karen blinks. “Uh, sort of, I guess,” she says. “But that’s not even a pun. It’s just a bad name.”

Matt snorts. “It’s certainly a choice.”

When the jam is over and the ref blows the whistle to clear the track, Karen Horney doesn’t get up at all. There’s an awkward moment of confusion before the ref goes over to ask her what the hell she’s doing. It’s a little hard to hear, but Matt shushes everyone around him and manages to pick up on some of it. “-protesting the violent nature of this sport, which pits women against each other for the amusement of men!”

Matt snickers and relays this. “At least one of her teammates is complaining about how this is happening again,” he adds, as Margaret Banger skates over to try and tug her to her feet. That doesn’t work, so Betty Clocker comes over to scold Karen Horney before finally dragging her off the track in a very undignified manner.

“Why’d they let her stay on the team if this happens a lot?” muses Luke. “Seems like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Maybe she’s someone’s sweetie,” Misty says, rolling her eyes playfully. “Guessing there’s some of that going around.”

Colleen snorts. “Well, I’m betting they won’t let her back out for the rest of the match, anyway.”

The rest of the match doesn’t go much better for Friendship City, though they manage to eke out just enough points that it’s not a completely pathetic defeat. The crowd gives them a lot of polite applause. Nebula scoffs and mutters, “But they _suck_.”

“But they tried their best,” Carina says adamantly.

“And they sucked,” Nebula repeats with a smirk.

“But we’re applauding because they tried,” Carina insists.

“I’m pretty sure we’re applauding because they brought an afterparty with them,” Darcy drawls. There had already been people setting up in the parking lot before the match started, which is more than can usually be said for post-derby events.

Rogue shrugs. “I mean, as long as they have beer, I’m good.”

 

* * *

 

 

After it’s all over, everyone makes their way outside, where there’s a ridiculous sound system and a small area set up for dancing with a wooden floor, a decently-sized bar and keg set up close by, and a table with boxes of baked goods. “Wow,” says Clint, looking startled. “This is...fancy.”

“Hey!” someone calls, running over with a big smile on his face. He’s a short Indian man wearing a very snappy suit. “I’m Tom, and this is the greatest afterparty you’ve ever been to! Drinks are all on us, and the DJ’s under strict orders not to stop until sunrise. Hit it!” A Roomba with speakers attached to the front of it rolls onto the floor and the first song starts blaring out.

“What,” Laura says, not actually managing to find the energy to ask it as a question.

“Why didn’t you just get a regular DJ?” Clint asks, brows furrowed. But the guy’s already bounced off to greet somebody else.

“Well, this is ridiculous,” says Natasha, ambling over to get a drink from the bar.

Though he looks bewildered, Steve nods respectfully in this Tom person’s direction, saying, “Uh. Thank you for putting this together.”

Tom does finger guns at him, grinning. “You bet, my dude! What’s your name? You look like a fun guy!”

“Steve,” says Steve, blinking.

Bucky grins and chimes in, “Kinda depends on your definition of ‘fun.’ I’m allowed to say that, I’m his boyfriend.”

“Ooh, y’know, I’ve got a little game you guys would be great at!” Tom says, passing them a card. “Call the number if you’re interested.” He winks exaggeratedly.

Bucky squints at the card. “‘Know Ya Boo’?”

“It’s the hottest show on TV!” promises Tom, then bounces away before one of them can refute it.

Sharon strolls up, holding an icepack to her left hip. “I see you’re already joining the fun,” she drawls, batting her eyelashes.

“We are, I think,” says Sam, who sounds utterly baffled. “Not sure exactly what the hell is going on, though.”

“Well, the drink menu’s not bad,” Natasha says, strolling back over with a half-empty glass. “And like he said, drinks are on the house.”

“Someone wanna do me a favor and grab me one?” Sharon asks, moving toward one of the tables and sitting down gingerly. “Somehow I managed to get hit even during… that.”

“Aw.” Sam leans over to kiss her. “Sure thing, what do you want?”

“Surprise me,” Sharon suggests.

“Oh my _god_ ,” exclaims a new voice, belonging to the derby girl going by Marie Fury. “Are all of these yours, Moonshine? I mean, I don’t mean to make it sound like you’re her dogs. You’re not her dogs. That’s a good thing, because if you were I’d be having a definite allergic reaction. But she mentioned…”

“Chill out,” mutters the girl who’s come up with her, Nellie Die. “You’re being weird. Hey,” she adds, nodding at the group. “Your girl’s got a hell of a punch.”

“Doesn’t she?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide his pride. “You’re pretty good too. I mean, considering.”

Natasha shoves him playfully. “Don’t be an ass,” she says fondly.

“I wasn’t!”

“It’s cool. We suck,” says Nellie Die, almost cheerfully. “I like hitting people though. That part’s pretty fun.”

“We’re getting better,” Marie Fury protests, sounding personally wounded by the thought.

“No we’re not. Whatever.” Nellie Die rolls her eyes. “Like I said, hitting people is fun.”

“I like the jacket,” Natasha says, nodding appreciatively at the black leather piece that she’s put on for the afterparty.

Nellie Die smirks. “Thanks. This is the nice one, doesn’t have any blood on it.”

While Marie Fury is very obviously cringing, Sharon leans forward with a mischievous smile. “Going back to what you said, yeah, these are mine,” she declares. “And Sam, he’s over there at the bar. What about you two?” She clearly means to inquire after the status of their relationship.

Nellie Die glances over at Marie Fury, who looks even more uncomfortable (if that’s possible). “Uh,” Marie Fury says. “We’re… not _not_ …”

“It’s complicated,” grunts Nellie.

Sharon raises a hand in playful concession. “Fair enough,” she says.

“Whatever works,” says Natasha with a shrug. “So what do you guys do?”

“Oh, law enforcement,” Marie Fury says. “I’m still finishing school, but…”

“Same here,” adds Nellie. “Been in my precinct like six months now. It’s pretty cool. My partner and I did cop school together, so.”

Sam returns with Sharon’s drink just in time to hear this. “Cool,” he says. “Sounds nicer than our local precinct. We’ve got...a lotta problems there.”

“I’ve heard,” Marie says seriously. “Not… much, but rumors do fly.”

“Yup,” replies Natasha. “It’s...exciting.”

“Exciting how?” Marie presses, sitting at the table across from Sharon with an eager expression. “Bad exciting, obviously, but what’s happened?”

“Well, last year our friend’s shitty fascist ex kidnapped her dog and we had to organize to get it back, and it turned out some of the cops were dirty.” Bucky says this breezily, but he knows how much it is to take in and how difficult it can be to absorb it all.

The Friendship City girls blink at each other. “Dirty like bought out, or dirty like they were also fascists?” Marie asks, wide-eyed.

“Both, actually. One of the ones that got bought pulled a gun on the captain, and it got pretty exciting there for a second. We all got out okay, though. Mostly.”

“Shit,” says Nellie. “What happened?” She looks less shocked and more interested.

“There was a lot of brawling and we all got kinda roughed up. Our friend Jessica got shot in the leg,” says Bucky. “But we got the dog back, and the dirty cops got caught. Well, some of them. We don’t know how many are left.”

Marie Fury makes a face. “That’s awful.”

“I think one of your teammates mentioned a Jessica,” says Nellie, glancing at Sharon. “The Hellcat girl, right?”

Sharon nods. “Jessica and Trish are dating,” she agrees. “See the dark-haired girl with her? The one clutching the whiskey bottle for dear life? That’s Jessica.”

“Cool.” Nellie smirks. “Should go talk to her,” she says to Marie.

“You never want to talk to people,” Marie says, sounding slightly accusatory. “This can’t be good.”

Before anyone can react to that, Tom bounces over. “Hey there, sugarboo,” he says, grinning at Natasha. “We meet again.”

“We do,” says Natasha, smiling in a way that all of her people instantly recognize as her ‘oh, a man is talking to me’ face.

Beside her, Steve gives Sharon a worried look. He’s always the most concerned about Natasha’s interactions with strange men - not in a creepy way, just in a way like he’s not good at processing how she messes with them.

“What say I get you a drink?” Tom is asking. “Pretty lady like you should have a good time tonight.”

“Oh, I’ve had one,” Natasha says. “But thank you for asking.” She drapes an arm casually around Sharon’s waist.

At which point Tom turns to Sharon, still looking intrigued. “And you,” he says, “I haven’t been introduced to. Name’s Tom.” He offers his hand.

“Sharon,” says Sharon, taking his hand very carefully. “Sailor Moonshine, out there.” She snuggles slightly closer to Natasha, pointedly.

“We’re very proud of her,” Natasha says, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“Ooh. Don’t suppose I could convince you two to let me take you both out for a dance?” Tom beams at them.

“I think we’ve got it covered, thanks,” says Sam, rolling his eyes and stepping closer to both of them - not in a possessive way, but just to make a point.

“Our boys know what they’re doing,” Natasha says, smiling too innocently. “But thanks.”

Marie Fury rolls her eyes. “Time for you to move along, Tom,” she sighs. To the others she says, “We’re sorry about him.”

“Noooooo,” whines Tom, but he’s quickly muscled away by Nellie.

“It’s fine,” says Natasha with a smirk. “Happens literally all the time.”

 

* * *

 

Nebula is sipping a drink, watching Karen Horney work her way through the crowd talking a mile a minute. “Christ, she’s high.”

“-and, y’know, when she came back with _The Best Damn Thing_ the sound was _totally_ different! Almost like maybe it was someone else entirely!”

Carina grimaces. “We should go save her,” she sighs.

“From what?”

“This is like the tamest trip I’ve ever seen,” agrees Rogue.

“Herself,” Carina mutters. “We need to save her from herself. It’s not safe to be high around a bunch of strangers.”

“She is acting very strangely,” agrees Laura, blinking. “Meredith and Quill and Darcy don’t act like this when they smoke. They don’t talk nearly so much.”

“She’s got friends here,” grumbles Nebula. “Don’t see why _we_ have to take care of it.”

Carina shakes her head and starts in Karen Horney’s direction, giving the others no choice but to follow. Once she’s close enough she says, perhaps too gently, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Karen whirls around, eyes wide. “Oh, hi,” she says. “Who’re you? I’m not sure who I am anymore, I think maybe I’m nobody at all. Have you heard about how big pharma bribes doctors to buy drugs people don’t need and sell them for a huge markup?”

“I’m Carina,” says Carina. “I’m sure you’re someone. Your shirt says you’re Karen Horney, but I’m guessing that’s a nickname for derby.” She doesn’t address the second thing yet, but she offers, “Do you want to sit down?”

“Do I have legs?” mumbles Karen, sort of stumbling. “I think they might’ve walked off without me…”

“That’s impossible,” says Laura, in an attempt to be reassuring. “Your legs are attached to your body and, unless they become severed from you, they couldn’t walk off without you.”

Carina winces. “I’m pretty sure that would also be impossible,” she says.

“Not if there was voodoo involved or something,” Darcy says, eyes gleaming.

“I don’t think there’s voodoo involved here,” Tegan says.

“Says _you_ ,” Darcy retorts playfully.

“Says me,” Tegan agrees. “As the closest thing this town has to the Goblin King, I can safely say there is no power of voodoo here.”

“Okay,” says Karen, perking up. “How about if I…” And she lowers herself to the ground, sitting down and looking up at them expectantly.

“Nope,” says Nebula, turning to go. “I’ll be over here.”

Carina glares at her wife, very pointedly. “Yes, getting me a drink, and then returning with a chair for yourself,” she says before precariously sitting down across from Karen Horney.

Darcy shrugs. “This could get fun,” she decides, joining them and pulling Tegan down and into her lap.

“Fine,” grunts Nebula, storming off toward the bar.

 

* * *

 

“I mean, they basically said all the best parts,” says Jessica, shrugging. “My leg got all fucked up and we punched some Nazis. Not my worst night.”

Nellie nods. “Still. Nice job.”

Trish rolls her eyes, but she’s clearly proud. “She had me scared shitless,” she says, nudging Jessica’s hip. “She swears up and down she’s never going to get involved, but she always does, and it’s always dramatic.”

“Shit happens.” Jessica rolls her eyes. “It was _fine._ ”

“‘Fine’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” says Luke with a snort.

“It’s too bad you’re not from around here,” Elektra says, smirking at Nellie. “Matthew and some of the others go to this...what do you call it, Matthew, fight club?”

Matt looks embarrassed for some reason. “Basically.”

“It’s just a little habit they have,” continues Elektra. “Cagefighting and the like.”

“Cool,” says Nellie. “Sounds fun.”

“It’s fuckin’ dangerous and fuckin’ illegal,” Misty interjects, shooting Colleen a pointed look. “But so far they haven’t died.”

“It’s fine,” Colleen insists, squeezing Misty’s hand. “Just a way to blow off steam.”

“Something like that,” Foggy says, not bothering to disguise the disdain in his own voice.

Marie Fury grimaces. “It doesn’t sound like the safest thing,” she says hesitantly, which clearly means she thinks it’s not safe at all but is trying to be (slightly) polite.

“Thank god,” says Foggy. “See, she’s reasonable! We should keep her.”

Just then one of the Friendship City team members, Kim Karbashian, - wearing, for some reason, a blanket with a wolf on it - wanders by. “I hope you all enjoyed my performance tonight,” she says grandly. “I feel it was one of my best.”

“You stopped to do your makeup in the middle of the match,” says Nellie, through gritted teeth.

“What can I say? My adoring public is so demanding.”

“One of these days,” Marie sighs, “you’re going to fall down and someone is going to skate over your face.” It’s clear she means this either a dangerous warning or an insult. It sounds like neither.

“Beauty is suffering,” says Kim with an airy smile. “And I suffer for my art.”

 

* * *

 

“But you should be checking IDs!” Friendship City’s team captain, Elizabeth War-on-Misogyny, is insisting to the bartender. “If all the drinks are on the house, how do you know you’re _not_ giving them to underage people? We could be unwittingly exposing minors to alcohol at this very moment!”

“Aw, it’s fine,” says the bartender, who has an aw-shucks face and an easy smile. “Alcohol doesn’t work on you until you’re twenty one anyway. That’s just science.”

Florence Fightengale, whose hand is in Elizabeth’s, sighs. “That is so far from science.”

Clint, who happens to be standing nearby, says, “I’m pretty sure all the underage kids went home already. I don’t see anybody around here that I know who’s underage, anyway.” He grins and adds, “Our youngest friends look like fetuses, so you’d know them if you saw them.”

Elizabeth looks uncertain, but then Florence glances at Laura and, in the interest of changing the subject, asks, “How far along are you? Five, six months?”

“Around there, yeah,” Laura agrees, beaming. “I figured it out in April, so.”

“And then I proposed to her!” says Clint, also grinning. “I mean, I was gonna do it anyway, but it seemed like a good idea. And we got married in June, and she’s gonna be such a great mom, and I love her so much!” He leans over to give her a big wet kiss on the cheek.

“Aw,” Florence says, delighted. “You’re adorable. Aren’t they, hon?”

Elizabeth smiles. “They are, yeah. How’d you guys meet?”

“It was actually a couple of summers ago at a different derby meet,” Laura says. “I’d just moved here, and I came to check it out. So after the meet, I was walking around, when suddenly I see _this guy_ sprawled out on the floor in obvious pain. He’d been punching a Nazi.”

“And then,” says Clint gleefully, “she came over and asked me if I was okay, and _then_ she says, ‘do you need ass ice?’” He giggles. “It was the cutest damn thing. Ass ice. I mean, the fall hurt like a bitch but that kinda made it worth it.”

Laura blushes, but by now she sees why this is funny, so she kisses her husband on the cheek and declares, “I’m pretty glad it happened.”

“Adorable,” coos Elizabeth. “My wife and I met because I was trying to build a park in her backyard, right, babe?” She beams at Florence. “And I have a boyfriend too, but he couldn’t come tonight. Something about a dumb tabletop game he made up himself, I dunno.”

“Well, before she got her hands on that space it was literally a pit,” Florence says. “I was _thrilled_ someone finally wanted to do something with it.”

“I fell in that pit!” the bartender chimes in. “It was super awesome, except for how I broke my leg and had to stay in the hospital for a week. I guess maybe that part wasn’t so awesome.”

“Babe, none of that was awesome,” says another Friendship City girl, Emmeline Spankhurts, leaning on the bar and rolling her eyes. “You almost died.”

“Oh _yeeeeah_ ,” he says, nodding slowly. “I forgot about that.”

Emmeline tries not to smile. “He’s really not the best at remembering,” she explains to Clint and Laura, deadpan.

“I remember lots of things!” the guy protests. “Like your favorite rock star dude, he lives at the Neutral Milk Hotel.”

 

* * *

 

“You ever been on TV?” Tom asks Karen. “I can get you on TV. I’ve got a show, it’s the highest-rated gameshow right now. _Super_ hot!”

Karen blinks. “The highest-rated gameshow where?” she asks, blinking.

“In the area!” Tom chirps. “Millions of viewers every week, guaranteed. It’s all about how well you know ya boo. Got a boo? Know them well? You could be famous!”

Karen glances at Kara and smirks. “Pretty sure my boo doesn’t want millions of viewers to know her,” she says.

“It’s not the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Kara says, pointedly squeezing Karen’s hand.

Elektra, noticing this, steps forward and grins. “I think it sounds charming,” she says, reaching out to run her hand down Tom’s arm. “Tell me more about it.”

“So, it’s two couples, maybe four for special shows, and they gotta answer questions about each other. Now, I know what you’re thinking - Tommy, that sounds like _The Newlywed Game._ It does, _but_ mine is better because _The Newlywed Game_ didn’t have half the budget we do. Plus, that show is so passe. People don’t care about newlyweds anymore, they get that sometimes people just have a boo!”

“Fascinating,” Elektra says, giving him a shark smile. “And what does one have to do to get on the show? I mean, surely you have quite a lot of say in picking the contestants.”

Foggy watches this with an increasingly frightened expression and leans over to Matt. “Isn’t Vanessa right there?” he hisses in Matt’s ear.

“She is,” snorts Matt, “but Elektra’s just playing with him.”

“For you, babygirl, I can guarantee you at least three shows,” Tom promises. “And that’s just to start. You seem like you’re smart enough to be a returning champion.”

“Oh, she’s a champion, all right,” Vanessa drawls.

At that moment, Slayonce strolls over and pats Tom on the shoulder. “You’re getting played,” she points out, not unsympathetically. “Those two are a thing.” And Vanessa shrugs cheerfully.

“What?” Tom looks like she’s just told him every dog in the world died all at once. “Noooooo!”

“C’mon, Romeo.” Slayonce herds him away, offering an apologetic eyeroll to the group. “It’s time for you to drown your sorrows.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’d the blue one go?” murmurs Karen Horney, sounding dreamy. “Did she go back to Neptune?”

“What?” MJ blinks at her. “No, she just went to get a chair and a drink. I think?” She glances at Carina.

“She did, but I think she got distracted,” Carina smirks, nodding to where Nebula and Emmeline Spankhurts are talking, from the looks of it about how much they hate everyone.

“ _There_ you are!” exclaims Margaret Banger, hurrying over to the group with Betty Clocker on her heels. “You shouldn’t run off when you’ve been _smoking_.”

“She shouldn’t be smoking at all,” Betty Clocker corrects, imperiously.

“Thank god,” Darcy sighs. “She stopped being funny ten minutes ago.”

Margaret Banger makes a face. “That took longer than usual, then,” she says. She puts a hand on Karen Horney’s shoulder and mutters, “C’mon, time to stand up and get moving.”

“Don’t wanna,” whines Karen. “It’s comfortable here. I’m one with the earth.”

“You’re close to being one with the pavement,” Betty says, and it might be an observation or it might be a threat.

“Can you get me a brownie? Brownies are good.”

“Brownies are for people who don’t get high off their asses in public,” scolds Betty. Then her tone changes to sound kinder. “These other nice people who kept you from making a complete fool of yourself, they can have brownies.” She bustles off to find some.

“Jesus would want you to give me a brownie!” Karen yells after her.

“Jesus would whoop your ass, and you’re lucky I’m turning the other cheek like He says,” Betty calls over her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Luke’s been cornered by Kim Karbashian and Nicole Bitchy, the two objectively least good members of the team, who seem to be trying to get... _something_ out of him.

“So, like, my daddy’s a very successful doctor,” Nicole Bitchy is saying. “What do _you_ do?” She runs her hand over Luke’s bicep.

Luke winces and steps back. “Bartending,” he says. “Local bar about fifteen minutes from here.”

“Sounds fun,” Kim Karbashian says. “Bet you meet a lot of interesting people. Not as interesting as me, but still.”

“What the hell is going on?” Trish asks, mostly aiming it at Jessica. “Do we need to step in?”

“Nah, he’s handling it.” Jessica grins. “Besides, it’s funny. They have no idea what they’re in for.”

“Yeah, you seem real interesting,” Luke is saying warily. “Not really in the market for the kind of fun you’re looking for, though.”

“Why noooooot?” whines Nicole. “You can see me, right? I’m a _total_ catch.”

Luke nods over at Jessica and Trish. “Already got a couple of those.”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “I can respect that.” She nudges Nicole. “C’mon, night’s still young. There’ll be others.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” groans Nicole. “This is really like, hurting my self-esteem! I’m gonna have to post _eight_ selfies tomorrow to feel better about myself!”

“I’m gonna puke,” deadpans Jessica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the opposing team of derby girls comes from another fandom (technically, in this case, fandoms plural, but they all go together). They are: Elizabeth War-on-Misogyny, Florence Fightengale, Emmeline Spankhurts, Slayonce, Nicole Bitchy, Margaret Banger, Karen Horney, Betty Clocker, Kim Karbashian, Marie Fury, and Nellie Die, and yes, they are all named after historical women of some type of significance.


	161. I could have sworn I'd heard him say it ten thousand times, if only I had been listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's friends throw him a surprise birthday party.

“This cake is kind of insane,” Kara remarks, studying the birthday cake Karen is currently decorating.

“Yeah,” Karen says cheerfully. “Keeps it interesting.”

“Or sugarbomb-y,” Kara counters.

“Birthdays are for sugarbombs,” Karen replies.

“Nothing wrong with sugar,” says Matt cheerfully. “Did you get those fancy letters again?”

“Sure did,” Karen chirps. “Figured that way everyone could appreciate the nonsense.”

“Cute,” says Elena. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“So where is he, anyway?” Misty asks. “Considering it looks like most of his guests already showed.” She motions around the room.

“Oh, he’s getting the pizza,” Matt says. “Just one, he thinks. I mean, we paid for them ahead of time, but there are seven.”

“Oh, brilliant,” snarks Jessica. “Because he’s not gonna get tipped off by seven pizzas instead of one, or anything.”

“By the time he’s tipped off, he’s on the way back home,” Karen grins. “Let him ponder.”

“As long as we have enough food, it’s all good,” says Luke with a shrug.

Trish, who got roped into setting up the snack table, rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I think we’re okay on that front,” she drawls. There’s the equivalent of at least a full-size bag of chips for each person present, among other things.

“So what are we gonna do, anyway?” Claire asks. “I mean, I’m fine with just hanging out.”

Karen shrugs. “Well, considering Foggy lives in a state of constant anxiety about _some people’s_ higher-impact, higher-danger activities,” she begins, nudging Matt, “we’re probably just going to wind up playing stupid games. Board, card, etcetera.”

Matt grins and replies, “He hasn’t asked me about fight club in awhile.”

“Probably because he realized you weren’t gonna give up on it,” Karen retorts playfully. “But I figure if it’s _his_ birthday, it should be stuff that _he_ finds fun.”

“Hey, I’m cool with low-stress game-playing,” Misty chimes in, giving Colleen’s hand a squeeze. “It’ll be good to give all these risk-takers a night off.”

Luke snorts. “Like you’re one to talk. I remember.”

“What?” Misty asks, clearly facetiously. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Colleen’s face lights up. “Spill,” she says. “I wanna know this for, y’know, future reference.”

“‘Scuse me?” Misty exclaims.

“Well, there was that time you beat the asses of three dudes twice your size,” says Luke. “Just ‘cause they were picking on another kid. Broke your arm for that, right?”

“Might have,” Misty shrugs, clearly meaning ‘yes’ but not wanting to say it outright. “Less embarrassing than the front tooth I knocked out of one of them.”

“Wow.” Colleen beams at her. “That’s pretty badass.”

“Not really why I did it,” Misty says, but she’s preening.

“I know,” says Colleen fondly, “but still.” She leans over to kiss Misty’s cheek. “Any other exciting adventures I should know about?”

“Tell you later,” Luke says conspiratorially.

Matt jerks his head toward the garage door. “Oh, Foggy’s home.”

Sure enough, the garage door opens a minute later and the inside door unlocks. “Guys?” calls Foggy. “Um, why do we have like seven pizzas? I told them that was wrong and they insisted it was already paid for, so I guess we’ll just have leftovers for like two weeks. Come help me-” He pauses to look around the room. “Um,” he says, baffled. “Were we having a party?”

“Sure are!” Karen chirps. “Happy birthday!”

“Oh geez,” he says, looking shocked and as if he might cry. “Wow, you guys. This is...wow.”

“Love you, buddy,” says Matt, smiling.

“We figured it was about time we surprised you with nice things for a change,” Karen explains.

Foggy swipes at his eyes. “Will you guys come help me with the pizzas? There’s a lot of pizza.”

“There’s room over here,” Trish says, nodding to the emptier side of the table.

“Gimme like three of those bastards, I can take ‘em,” says Jessica, following him into the garage. Colleen joins them.

Soon enough they’re all sitting, either on the couch or floor, with pizza. “You got me,” Foggy says cheerfully. “I had no idea!”

“It was kind of a rush job,” Karen shrugs, “but it seemed important.”

Akela smiles. “We wanted to be sure you felt appreciated.”

“Aww,” Foggy says, putting his hand over his heart. “You guys are so great. Thanks.” He reaches over to bear-hug Karen, who’s the closest who isn’t Matt (Matt hates surprise bear hugs).

“And there’s cake!” Karen exclaims, laughing. “But first, the actual food. Wouldn’t wanna spoil… something.”

“Plates?” asks Vanessa, who seems uncharacteristically lost. (Elektra hasn’t actually showed up yet, and these are all _her_ friends.)

“Paper ones right here,” Trish says. “We wouldn’t want the birthday boy to have to clean up all of our dishes.”

“You couldn’t just trust Karen or Matt to do it?” Candace asks, smirking.

Foggy laughs. “No, no, I’m Dish Man around here. Matt, y’know, can’t, and Karen misses spots.”

“I have more interesting things to think about,” Karen replies loftily.

Claire snorts fondly. “Well, that’s one way of thinking.”

Foggy rolls his eyes and smiles. “Anyway. Did you guys have anything planned besides the awesome cake and pizza? I mean, I don’t wanna presume.”

“Karen wouldn’t let me bring everyone to fight club,” jokes Matt. “So we were thinking board games?”

Foggy leans over to nudge him. “Jerk,” he says warmly. “Anyway, how about a round of Cards Against Humanity?”

“I’ve never played that,” says Vanessa, eyeing the door not-subtly.

“We took out all the really bad cards,” says Foggy quickly. “I mean, the ones that might be offensive to somebody in particular. We left in the ones about bukkake and stuff, those are just funny.”

“What kind of game has cards about bukkake?” Vanessa asks.

“Have you ever played Apples to Apples?” Matt asks, already knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Oh. Well, basically everyone gets a hand of cards and then one person draws a black card, which has a prompt on it. It’ll be something like ‘what are my parents hiding from me?’ And then everyone will pick something out of their hand that either fits that or is just funny. Some cards have people’s names and some say stuff like bukkake or a falcon with a cap on its head. Random stuff. The point is to be the person whose card gets picked.”

Vanessa blinks. “Oh.”

“I’m sure Elektra will be here soon,” Karen says, trying not to sound smug even though it’s not like she actually enjoys Vanessa’s obvious discomfort (it’s kind of just funny to see her out of her element, since that never happens).

“I’ve got other games too,” Foggy says. “Ticket to Ride is about trains!”

“Cards Against Whoever sounds fine,” Vanessa assures.

“Are any of us gonna have to team up?” asks Candace.

“No, it’s meant to be a party game. You can play with like thirteen people if you want, it just might get crazy. You can team up if you want, though.” Foggy turns to Matt. “You wanna team up, buddy?”

“Sure,” says Matt. “I mean, we finally figured out how to use the special accessibility set you got, but we make a hell of a team anyway.”

“That’s happening,” Misty whispers to Colleen.

Colleen snorts. “I think it’s been happening for awhile.”

“What are you guys whispering about?” Foggy asks, tone leaning towards suspicious.

“Oh, we’re gonna team up too,” Misty says, smiling innocently.

Claire and Candace also team up, and everyone else opts to play solo. Foggy doles out the white cards, which mostly seems to baffle Vanessa if her raised eyebrows and rapid blinking are any indication. “Okay, I’ll start, so you noobs know how it goes,” says Foggy cheerfully, grabbing a black card. “So you normally read it out loud - ‘Blank. Bet you can’t have just one!’ And now everyone picks a card and put it face down in the middle here.”

“Orgasms,” Kara whispers to Karen.

“You’re being too literal,” Karen replies, but she’s clearly still amused.

Foggy waits, grinning, until everyone has tossed down a white card before grabbing the pile and shuffling them. “And now I read them all out loud. Goblins! Bet you can’t just have one. Emotions! Bet you can’t have just one. The human body! Bet you can’t have just one. BEES?”

“BEES?” Matt and Karen chorus, as if on cue.

“Bet you can’t have just one! My first kill! Bet you can’t have just one!” Foggy pauses to giggle at the next one and then continues, “A web of lies! Bet you can’t have just one! A Super Soaker full of cat pee! Bet you can’t have just one! A tiny horse! Bet you can’t have just one! The boners of the elderly! Bet you can’t have just one! Centaurs! Bet you can’t have just one! Just the tip! Bet you can’t have just one!”

Elena laughs. “Some of these things are plural, so you couldn’t have just one anyway.”

“Yeah, it comes out like that sometimes,” says Foggy. “That’s what someone said. Anyway!” He discards a few cards and then says, “It’s down to a web of lies, BEES?, and the boners of the elderly. BEES? is our favorite card,” he adds.

“Dare I ask?” Vanessa murmurs.

Before Foggy can try to explain, Elektra walks in, calling “Hello!”

“I thought the front door was locked,” Foggy says, staring up at her in confusion.

“It was,” says Elektra with a shrug. “See, I’m relocking it, there’s nothing to worry about. Hello, Franklin. Happy birthday.” She walks over and sets down an elegantly arranged gift bag near him. “Matthew, Karen, Kara. Darling.” She purrs the last word, and goes to Vanessa to give her a kiss.

Vanessa smirks and pulls Elektra into her lap. “You were later than you said you’d be,” she says, somewhere between asking and accusing.

“I’m sorry,” Elektra says, sounding genuinely contrite. “I got an...unexpected phone call. From Alexandra.” Her lip curls slightly when she says the name.

“Poor love,” Vanessa says with a pout, kissing Elektra’s cheek.

“Who’s Alexandra?” Kara asks, voicing the concern of just about everyone present.

“Are you alright?” Matt asks, frowning.

Elektra tosses her head. “I’m fine, thank you, Matthew.”

Foggy looks at Matt. “Okay, spill, since she’s not gonna. Who’s this Alexandra person? Ex? Lawyer? Ex-lawyer?”

“I don’t know much,” says Matt. “Elektra, you might just tell them or they’ll be at this all day.”

Elektra snorts. “If you _must_ know, she’s the woman who calls herself my mother. She isn’t,” she adds sharply. “We don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” says Kara. “I’m sorry…?”

“It’s fine.” Elektra’s mouth quirks in a strange way. “Just caught me by surprise.”

“Still, that sucks,” Candace says softly. “Shitty parents suck. My mom’s awesome, but I mostly only realized that when I was younger ‘cause so many of my friends had to borrow her ‘cause their own parents were shit.”

Elektra smiles over at her. “Sounds lovely. I’m happy for you, I truly am, and I appreciate your sympathy.” She leans her head against Vanessa’s shoulder.

“How’s Dolores doing, anyway?” Luke asks Candace. “And the guys.”

“Oh, pretty good,” Candace says with a smile. “She did a big Sunday dinner last week, finally met Claire. Sean and Cole wouldn’t stop giving me shit.” She giggles. “But Sean met this customer service rep chick at work and he couldn’t stop bringing her up, so I gave it right back.”

Claire bumps her shoulder against Candace’s. “They’re nice,” she says. “Just silly boys, nothing too bad.”

Luke grins. “Glad to hear it.”

Possibly out of vague concern for Elektra’s feelings and possibly just because she wants to keep this party on an even keel, Karen asks, “So, birthday boy, which card is it gonna be?”

‘Oh! Right.” Foggy looks down at the cards. “Gonna have to go with...a web of lies.” He grins. “Whose is that?”

“Oh, that’s mine.” Jessica smirks and holds out her hand. “Sweet.”

Foggy hands it to her with a flourish. “Nicely done! And now the next person to my right can go.” He looks over at Karen. “That’s you.”

“She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night for… blank,” Karen reads. “This is gonna be good.”

“Again I say, orgasms,” Kara remarks with a chuckle.

The others take a couple of minutes to select cards and then Karen separates four from the others. “She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night for repression. She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night for vehicular manslaughter. She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night for spontaneous human combustion. She’s up all night for good fun, I’m up all night for a plunger to the face.”

“This game is a fascinating indication of people’s senses of humor,” Trish remarks.

“Y’know, they’re all pretty solid,” Karen muses. “But I think I’m gonna go with… repression. Who just wrote the Matt Murdock life story?”

“Wow,” deadpans Matt.

Elektra waves a hand. “That would be us,” she says, looking very self-satisfied.

“Kinda thought so,” Karen jokes. “Or at least I figured it was either you or Claire.” She smirks wickedly.

It’s Kara’s turn to choose next, and the car she draws is, “This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but with… blank.”

“How intellectual of them,” Misty says.

The bunch Kara narrows it down to is, “Not with a bang but with… inappropriate yodeling. Not with a bang but with… heartwarming orphans. Not with a bang but with... Nicolas Cage. not with a bang but with… a hot mess. All of these seem weirdly accurate.”

“Even Nicolas Cage?” Candace asks.

“My mom made me meet Nicolas Cage once,” Trish says. “I can safely say that he’s likely to end the world.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Kara chuckles, “but I think I’m going to go with a hot mess. That seems especially relevant to this bunch.”

“Aw, you love it,” Karen teases.

“Never said I didn’t,” Kara replies. “Whose card is it?”

“Oh, ours!” says Foggy brightly. He takes the black card from Kara, grinning.

“Happy birthday, then,” Kara says. “That’s not your real present, but I may not have found your real present yet, so it’ll do for now.”

“Oh, are we doing presents?” Foggy asks. “I mean, I don’t need them, I’m not six, and this is already a great party.”

“I got you something,” Matt says, a bit quietly. “But I’ll give it to you later. It’s in my room.”

“Seriously?” Misty hisses to Colleen.

Colleen snickers. “Pretty sure he doesn’t mean _that_. Yet, anyway.”

“You know I can hear you,” Matt says pointedly.

“Yeah,” says Colleen. “And the rest of us heard _you._ ”

Matt turns an interesting color. Foggy quickly says, “Who’s next to judge? Trish, I think it’s you!”


	162. baby, please, I'm well-versed in how I might be cursed, I don't need it articulated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last weekend for back-to-school shopping, and the mall is slightly more chaotic than normal.

“You seem frazzled,” Steve says, frowning as he pokes his head into the fitting rooms.

Natasha is sitting inside one, and she seems to be trying to block out all noise. “No, really?” she deadpans. “I’m doing just fine.”

“The line died down a little, at least,” he offers, trying for optimism.

“The dressing room line, or the line-line?” she snarks. “Or the one to get at the kids’ jeans pile?”

Steve sighs and leans against the opposite wall of doors. “The kids’ jeans are being replenished, so it’s being left alone for now,” he says. “The line-line is only halfway down the store, not all the way. Dressing rooms are relaxed, though. For the moment.”

“Yeah, I figured when nobody came to yell at me for hiding out in here,” Natasha says with a smirk. “At least we’ve almost survived back-to-school. How’re you holding up, Mr. Cheerful?”

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs. “We’re coming up on two hours without any tantrums, so that’s good. You’re at least folding while you hide, right?”

Natasha shrugs and gestures vaguely toward the small pile of clothes in the corner. “I mean, I folded those, I guess.”

“Want me to bring you more to work on?”

She death-glares him. “I’m sure you can figure out the answer to that question.”

“I know you don’t want it, but it’s better than making you go back out there, and you are still on the clock,” he points out.

“Fine,” she groans. “Can I have a quick shoulder rub though?” She gives him her very best pleading eyes.

Steve glances toward the entrance to the fitting rooms, then he nods. “Scoot over,” he says, nodding to the bench she’s sitting on.

“Thank you,” Natasha singsongs, scooting over obligingly.

 

* * *

 

It’s the last weekend before school starts, so Clint’s not surprised that the mall is a madhouse. He _is_ surprised that there are a not-insignificant amount of people in Fuego.

“Mom, can I get this shirt?” a boy of about eleven or twelve asks, shoving a shirt at his mother that has a cat head on it and says SHOW ME YOUR KITTIES.

“I don’t think… maybe not for school,” the mom sighs. “There’s another cat… shirt?” She indicates one of a cat inside a taco, that’s completely without any inappropriate slogans.

“Aw,” the kid says, but he puts the shirt back without whining too much.

Clint blinks. Personally, he won’t be bringing his child into this store until it’s in its twenties, because honestly there’s just enough not-quite-sexist merch in here that it makes him slightly uncomfortable. (He tries to hide them behind other, better shirts, but he missed that one.)

After a few more minutes Laura appears, sighing. “Having a book of IOUs for… you know,” she begins, holding up a book labeled _I Owe You SEX_ , “it just seems to set a lot of really dangerous precedents for relationships.”

Clint makes a face. “Yeah, that’s one of the ones I tried to hide. I guess Pete or Warren must have moved it back, they were closing yesterday.” Then he smiles. “How’s your hell day going?”

“I work at the candle store,” she points out. “It’s not really a big rush day for us.”

“Yeah, good point,” he says with a laugh. “Feeling okay? How’s Cloudkit?”

“Kicky today,” she sighs playfully, touching her belly even though it’s a cliche. “But I don’t really mind.”

“Aw, sorry.” Clint leans over to give her a quick kiss. “Okay, I better get back to work, or at least pretend to work, but thanks for stopping by.”

“‘Course,” she says. “Gotta spend my break somehow that doesn’t smell like every fruit in the world at the same time, after all.”

Snorting, Clint nods and replies, “At least here doesn’t really smell like anything. That’s one saving grace, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

“So did you run into any of the crazy kids on your way over here?” Skye asks.

“I mean, I saw children, some of whom seemed as crazy as children ever do,” Jemma shrugs.

Skye laughs. “Well, so I guess hordes of kids and teenagers and whatever have been going to Candy Tyme and just buying ridiculous amounts of candy, and there are maybe a dozen of them wreaking sugar high havoc out there now. It’s hilarious, mostly because I haven’t seen any of them come in here and start fucking around with anything.”

“Lucky you,” Jemma laughs. “Considering your proximity, I’m surprised. It’s all innocent havoc, though?”

Skye nods. “I mean, I saw some of them run into the Lego Store so I sure hope Rhodey’s okay, and also Foot Locker. I think you’d have to try pretty hard to fuck up Foot Locker though.”

“Poor Rhodey,” Jemma sighs, though still playfully. “I’m sure he’ll hold his own. Have you heard what kind of things are going on, or is it just general mayhem?”

“Not specifically. Probably just fucking around with the Lego displays and stuff. Maria and Coulson haven’t come this way yet, so it’s probably not anything that bad. How’s the ice cream?”

“Okay,” Jemma says, shrugging. “The usual sorts of ice cream drama, multiplied by two or three. There really haven’t been _any_ outbursts here? I’m surprised.”

“Lucky. We’ve only had a couple. Some college kid threw a fit because their daddy wouldn’t buy them a desktop _and_ a laptop. I mean, desktop monitors are great and all but seriously, shut the fuck up.” Skye rolls her eyes and eats a fry.

“Couldn’t they just buy a spare monitor secondhand if they wanted that option?” Jemma asks. “I mean, I like having two screens occasionally, but it doesn’t need to be top-of-the-line.”

“Apparently not,” scoffs Skye. “God forbid your shitty overpriced tech not match, or something.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jemma declares. “I’m sorry assholes like that come in here.”

“It’s okay.” Skye shrugs. “Could be worse. Could work in an actual store _for_ children.” She smirks and adds, “At least the oversized children who come in my store have money and usually want to spend it.”

“Small mercies,” Jemma chuckles. “Another small mercy, incidentally? Getting to use the office for your lunch break now that you’re all fancy and managerial.”

Skye tosses her head. “Right? It’s awesome.” Then she grins. “Hey, y’know, there are other things we could do once we’re done eating. Like make out.”

“That was sort of what I was getting at,” Jemma smirks.

“Oh good,” Skye says cheerfully. “Glad you still feel that way since we’re like, domestic and see each other every day and shit. ‘Cause, y’know, the stereotype.”

“Stereotypes are idiotic,” Jemma points out. “Besides, making out sneakily in the manager’s office is different than making out at home.” She grins.

“True.” Skye polishes off the last bite of her burger and gives Jemma her best sultry look, patting her lap. “So...shall we?”

“Take a drink to get the burger taste out of your mouth some,” Jemma suggests, “but then I’m all yours.”

 

* * *

 

During a rare reprieve from the endless chaos that Jessica’s shift has been all day, Trish comes in to visit.

“Did you bring me a drink?” Jessica groans, only looking up from where her head is pillowed on her arms long enough to make sure Trish isn’t a dreaded customer.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean a nice cold bottle of water,” Trish remarks.

“Nope,” says Jessica. “I mean, if you’ve got one I guess I could throw it at the next asshole who asks me a stupid question. Tequila would be better.”

“Cold water will at least wake you up a little,” Trish suggests, offering the bottle even though it hasn’t expressly been requested. “Are people really being that awful in here?”

Jessica gives her a dirty look. “Everyone and their dog has been in here looking for art supplies for their little bastards. Target is right down the street, assholes. Gonna give you a better deal than this place.” She looks at the bottle for a second, then, with a shrug, uncaps it and takes a long drink.

“Maybe they want the really fancy stuff,” Trish says. “Or they’re already here and figure…” She trails off. “Whatever the case, sorry it’s shit.”

Shrugging again, Jessica says, “Whatever. I’ll live. You don’t even have to be here, your shift doesn’t start for like a hour.”

“I figured you needed someone to complain at,” Trish replies with a smirk.

Jessica returns it. “Aw, it’s like you know me or something.”

“Better than anyone,” Trish says sweetly.

“Gross,” groans Jessica, but she looks happier. “Don’t suppose Luke could stop by with a drink?”

“You only have a couple more hours,” Trish consoles. “I’ll get you something strong and free when you’re done. Promise.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Jessica only pouts a little. “I’ll just stop in, then?”

“Do,” Trish says. “I’m going to be surrounded by sportballers, I can just feel it.”

“Oh god,” groans Jessica. “Well, I’ll be there as backup in case one of them does something shitty.”

 

* * *

 

“How do you have such energy?” Hogun asks, tilting his head at Pietro.

Pietro, who has been zipping around the store fixing all the displaced merchandise for at least ten minutes, grins at him. “I just do,” he says. “Father used to say that I never needed candy because I had all the energy I needed. He gave it to me anyway, though. If I asked nicely.”

Hogun smirks. “Better you than me.” He sighs, glancing at the pile of socks that were knocked off an endcap. “Should take care of that.” He walks over to start sorting through them.

PIetro follows him, still chattering. “Wanda says her brain goes as fast as my feet, but I’m not sure if that’s possible. Besides which, my brain goes pretty fast too, but I guess she wouldn’t know, since she’s not in it. Do you ever have the problem where you start thinking one thing and then you stop in the middle to switch to something else? That happens to me a lot.”

“No,” says Hogun. Sometimes Pietro’s friendliness is irritating, but at least he isn’t knocking over the displays like the kids from earlier. Usually Hogun just lets him talk until he gets distracted.

“Wanda compared it to a train switching to another track, but I don’t think that’s quite right because trains can’t switch very abruptly at all.” Pietro shrugs. “But that’s how I explain it to other people and they seem to understand that.”

Hogun grunts acknowledgement and keeps sorting socks.

Pietro seems to be about to say something else, when a frazzled-looking mom comes in with her two kids and he turns to look at them. “Hello!” he says, bounding over. “Can I help you?”

Hogun smirks. Now he won’t have to talk to customers, _and_ Pietro will have someone to chat with.

 

* * *

 

Fandral saunters into Candy Tyme, putting on his very best diplomacy face. “Hello there,” he calls when he spots Aida in the back, sweeping up some spilled jelly beans.

“Hello,” they reply, one eyebrow raised. “Have you come to smell something that’s not overpriced cologne?” They know who he is, despite not having spoken before.

Fandral laughs. “No, not exactly. I’ve come to, ah, talk to you about something. Aida, isn’t it? My name is Fandral.” He offers his hand.

“Hello, Fandral,” Aida says courteously. “What’s going on?”

Coughing slightly, Fandral pauses before saying, “Er, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s been a...ah...abundance of children running amok in this corner of the mall. I’ve certainly had quite a few of them, as has the Lego Store and Foot Locker. We were, ah, trying to deduce the cause of this and we realized that many of them were clutching sacks of candy.”

“Which came from my shop,” Aida deduces. “I guess the little things needed a way to alleviate their boredom.”

“Yes,” says Fandral with a chuckle. “But we were wondering - well, at least _I_ was wondering - if you might consider, perhaps, not selling them the candy?”

“But that’s quite literally my job,” they reply, blinking.

“I understand that,” he says, smiling. “But I thought perhaps I could...persuade you somehow?” He offers them his most winsome smile.

“Persuade me not to do my job,” they echo. “How, exactly?”

He gives a sort of half-hearted shrug and says, “I, er...I don’t imagine I’d be able to convince you by offering sexual favors?”

Aida looks him up and down, really and truly. “Sexual favors wouldn’t make up for lost wages or potential discipline from my bosses,” they finally say. “And I suspect our sexual interests are too dissimilar to warrant further consideration.” He’s not being utterly disgusting, so they’ll do him the favor of being somewhat polite about turning him down.

He pouts, but has the good grace to nod. “I thought it was worth a try, anyhow.”


	163. I dive in and I sink in and I find new colors to think in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorelei hosts her version of a sex toy party. It's more educative than it is capitalistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter discusses sex toys and sex. In great depth. Be aware. 
> 
> We aren't technically experts, be sure and do your own research.

Lorelei glances around the unused Knowhere space - loaned to her free of charge, despite her offer to rent it out, with the promise that she would include nobody from the tattoo shop (or Quill) in her afternoon’s endeavors - with a proud smile. It’s really not a surprise that so many of her invitees turned out for today’s little sex toy seminar, given the general culture of sex-positivity in her extended circle of acquaintances, but she’s still pleased.

(She’s also unsurprised to note that the vast majority of her guests are decidedly _not_ men, and the few who did show up are hardly heterosexual. The only heterosexual men she knows who’d be interested in this endeavor are the ones like Fandral, who rescinded his Facebook declaration of attendance after she left him a cheerful comment simply saying “How’s your tongue? :*” - which is to say they’re the ones who’d only be here to get something from her or another woman. This seminar is not for selfish heterosexual men.)

The room is set up more like a wedding reception than a lecture, because she knows some of her guests are going to want to have tables to take notes and tables also make it easier to pass toys around so that everyone gets a chance to look. Plus, this is supposed to be a party, not a college course. She’s no professor, there’s no PowerPoint presentation.

Raina is sitting in the chair beside her sort-of podium, grinning and ready to play Vanna White. There are going to be opportunities for anyone to offer commentary, but throughout the process of putting this together Raina made sure some of her interjections were going to be necessary, not optional. Now, though, she just raises an eyebrow at Lorelei and offers her a microphone, murmuring, “Go get ‘em, goddess.”

Lorelei, of course, blows a kiss before she clears her throat and begins. “ _So_ wonderful to see all of you here,” she croons, surveying each table. Raina’s little sister-whoever Wanda and some of her other more alt friends have one table; Vanessa and Elektra have their friends situated at another; the third is a lot of Kara’s closer people. “For those of you who already have a little knowledge about the sex toy industry, this first part is going to be a refresher, but it’s good to start with the basics, now isn’t it?”

In the crowd, Vanessa nudges Elektra and murmurs, “Some of the people here are in _dire_ need of the basics, I would think.”

“You know I can hear you, Vanessa,” Matt murmurs with a little smirk. “And I’m not _totally_ ignorant.”

Foggy’s eyes go wide. “I know things too!” he protests. “I’ve...I drove my sister to one of these places once! I mean, not in a weird way, I sat in the car outside, I…” He trails off, suddenly aware that this story doesn’t become less creepy by adding more details.

“I’m sure you do know things, Franklin,” purrs Elektra soothingly, which just makes Foggy look annoyed.

“It’s important to make sure the toys you buy are body-safe,” Lorelei begins. “Skip anything made of a porous material like jelly: you can’t clean them properly and they’re likely to bleed color, melt, degrade, and actively harm your health. Any toy with an odor is usually both cheap and made with phthalates, which soften plastic but are toxic. What you want to look for is anything made from the same material as kitchen tools, so silicone, glass, stainless steel, sealed wood, aluminum, hard plastic, things of that nature.”

She pauses to look at her audience and sees, just as she was promised, some very rapid note-taking. Little Jemma Simmons is writing the most, because of course she is; Karen and Wanda are both jotting things down and glancing sideways at their girlfriends; the new girl, that sister of Peter Quill’s, is watching wide-eyed and writing words here and there without looking at her paper.

“So we’ll start with vibrators,” Lorelei announces, nodding at Raina to hand her what was dubbed, rather predictably, the “vibrator bouquet,” after which she withdraws a small green toy. “Our first type is the external clit stim, used for exactly that, clitoral stimulation. They’re often curved or pointed at one end for precision and tend to be small enough to hold in one hand - think the typical bullet vibe, though many luxury brands have branched out.” She smirks - the toy she’s holding is shaped like a leaf, so it’s an obvious joke. “This, for example, is called the Life, and comes from the Leaf brand, which models its toys after plants. They’re also rechargable and eco-friendly.” She eyes the crowd, smirking.

“This is the part where you’re all thinking Poison Ivy jokes but you’re too shy to say them,” Raina interjects cheerily, earning a few laughs because, well, it did occur to many of them. She starts to pass the Life around the tables.

“Some clitoral stimulators have a more traditional shape, like this Turbo Glider,” Lorelei continues, holding up a translucent blue toy for a moment before handing it to Raina to pass around as well. “G-spot stimulators, which are sometimes combined with dildos, are designed to rub or nudge your G-spot,” She pauses, taking out a blue, curved toy. “This is the Comet II, and it’s definitely top of its class. These vibes are longer and feature a more shaped tip.”

Wanda raises her hand sort of timidly. “I’ve read some things about that, but I don’t know much,” she says. “How do you...find it?”

“Experimentation, vague as it sounds,” Lorelei says, consciously trying to make her smile polite and not patronizing. “Smaller G-spot toys can actually be more useful than fingers for trying to figure out where yours is.”

“It’s not very far in, is it?” Wanda asks. “I’ve read that it’s only a few inches inside the vagina.”

“That’s correct,” Lorelei agrees. “There isn’t a precise answer, unfortunately, but trying to find it either by yourself or with your partner is often a pleasurable experience.” She’s made little Hope blush saying that, so she lets that subside before continuing, showing off a curvy pink toy. “Next is the rabbit, which combines internal and external stimulation. They’re great for some people, but don’t fit every body. The We-Vibe Nova is a good example of a rabbit that, thankfully, doesn’t actually look like a rabbit - too many of them have cutesy ears and faces on the clitoral stim, which I’ve always hated, but more because of the twee aesthetic than their usefulness. This vibe is also one that features a smartphone app to control the vibrations, as well as being waterproof.”

Bobbi nudges Jemma, smirking. “See? Not every option has a little face.”

“I mean, I figured as much,” Jemma mumbles, scribbling the name down. “I just don’t want cartoon animals anywhere near my vagina, and everything we’ve found in town has been unfortunately that way.”

“We’ll get something online,” Skye promises, squeezing her arm fondly. “Don’t worry, honey.”

“Vibrations can also vary between ‘buzzy’ and ‘rumbly,’” Lorelei continues, smiling her most professional smile. It’s been years since she actually sold sex toys, but discussing them like this still feels familiar. “Buzzy vibes are typically the cheaper, weaker options, usually battery-powered. Some buzzy vibes, like the Turbo Glider, can still be powerful, but as a rule they’re not preferable. Rumbly vibes have better internal motors, making their vibrations stronger, more powerful, and usually quieter. And if you’re using a rechargable vibe, like the Life or like this Hitachi Magic Wand -” She pauses to reveal the standard microphone-shaped Hitachi, but this version is in fact cordless - “are often more powerful and have a wider range of speeds, vibration patterns, and other options.”

“Is there a better starter vibrator?” asks Bereet, tilting her head.

“It depends on how much you want to spend,” Lorelei says. “The Turbo Glider is noisier, but it’s very effective for what it is and inexpensive. If you’re willing to spend a little more, something like the Lovelife Cuddle.” She pauses to indicate another pink toy, smaller and simpler. “More traditionally shaped toys can be used in a wider variety of ways.”

Bereet makes note of this in her phone, presumably, before smiling sheepishly. “I feel weird being such a noob about this, but I guess that’s what can happen when you think you’re straight for most of your life,” she says wryly. (Lorelei notices, even if Bereet herself doesn’t, the way this declaration makes both Tegan and Darcy raise their eyebrows at her.)

“Your other most commonly used toy is probably going to be a dildo,” Lorelei announces, receiving another bouquet from Raina. “They come in a variety of styles, sizes, materials, and textures, and can be used in many ways, including by hand or in a harness.”

Aida, who’s sitting at Kara’s table and looking like nothing could possibly surprise them, smirks. “And then there’s packing,” they say. “But that’s not always directly sexual.”

“Packing?” asks Mantis, turning to stare at Aida curiously.

“Using padding or phallic objects to simulate having a penis,” Aida explains.

“Oh,” Mantis squeaks. “I hope that you enjoy that, if you do it, but I would not.”

MJ tilts her head at Mantis. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m wondering what you’re doing at the sex toy tupperware party if you’re not really into most of this,” she says, not unkindly.

“I wanted to understand,” Mantis says simply. “It makes very little sense to me, and I thought this might help me learn.”

“Hopefully,” Lorelei says, smirking. “For those either inexperienced with penetration or wanting to ‘train’ to take bigger toys - or the real thing - you should start with smaller toys and work your way up.” Here she looks directly at Matt and Foggy, who are the only boys present besides Trip and the only boys in a pair, ergo the ones she knows are most likely to be thinking about said real thing. “It’s also good to try different textures and materials - for example, silicone dildos can be softer or harder, which affects the sensations they can produce, and glass dildos conduct heat well.” She produces a toy that looks more like a magical ice wand than a dildo. “This Crystal Delights Star Delight dildo features a bumpier texture in addition to the glass material, plus a decorative Swarovski crystal in the base.”

Raina grins devilishly at Kara before she says, “Trust me when I say one decorative Swarovski crystal is a hell of a lot more fun than having the entire dildo made out of the stuff.”

“Oh, god, that thing,” Kara groans, laughing.

“That thing?” Karen asks, not jealous but curious.

“A novelty item that was thoroughly ignored after I discovered it,” Kara promises.

“A lot of dildos tend more unrealistic in appearance, like the Jollet,” Lorelei continues, holding up a translucent dildo with tiny multicolored polka-dots inside it. “This is good for insertion and some movement, though not thrusting, and its primary appeal is the shape, but it’s also - well, let’s say ‘playful.’” She pauses to smile indulgently. “You can’t actually buy this one at the moment, but it’s worth mentioning as a good example.”

“Everyone needs a sex toy that looks like it came from the circus,” snarks Colleen, grinning.

“Gotta keep it interesting, I guess,” Misty shrugs.

“Then you get the more realistic dildos,” Lorelei says, holding two such objects up. “They might be shaped more like an actual phallus, colored like actual human flesh - unfortunately often white human flesh, and some that are made in other colors are uncomfortably fetishizing, but there are multiple options if you look - or both. Some people prefer this, some don’t.”

Jemma ducks her head, doing a poor job of hiding her blush, and Skye nudges her playfully. “And some prefer lightsaber dicks,” she murmurs in Jemma’s ear with a snicker.

“Dildos also need to be played with safely,” Lorelei says. “If you intend to use a dildo in more than one hole or with a partner to whom you aren’t fluid-bonded, use a condom. Solid dildos without batteries or vibrating mechanisms can be boiled to sterilize them, but otherwise specialized toy cleaners are going to be your best bet.”

Foggy furrows his brow. “Okay, I don’t know what ‘fluid-bonded’ means,” he admits. “Explain.”

“If you and your partner have agreed not to use contraceptive barriers but undergo regular testing so you know you aren’t transmitting or carrying diseases, you’re fluid-bonded,” Lorelei explains, trying not to smirk. “It isn’t synonymous with monogamy, and many monogamous couples still practice safer sex, but it does indicate a level of commitment.”

Karen leans over to nudge Foggy pointedly, smirking. “Sounds like something you’d wanna know about,” she says.

Lorelei glances at Raina to make sure she’s not the only one picking up on this - she’s not, Raina is giggling - before pressing on. “Harnesses, as I mentioned, are usually used with dildos,” she says. “Strap-on harnesses - which are mostly comprised of, as you’d expect, straps - are the most common, but there are also harnesses that more closely resemble underwear, like those made by Spareparts.” She holds up an underwear-style harness to show it off.

“I feel like we read ahead of the class,” Jemma whispers to Skye.

Skye tosses her head, grinning. “Go us.”

“Lube is another very useful aid for sexual pleasure, as well as increased safety with toys,” Lorelei says. “Water-based lube is going to be the most versatile, meaning you can use it with most all toy materials, but it’s not as long-lasting. Silicone toys and silicone-based lube should never be used together, because it will cause stickiness and break the toy down, and oil-based lube can break down silicone and latex, which can affect both toys and condoms. Flavored lubes also contain sugar sometimes, which means you should read the ingredients to check before buying any of them.”

Elektra snickers. “Also, most of the flavored lube I’ve tried isn’t very good at all,” she says idly.

“I imagine it’s hardly the nicest flavor you could associate with sex,” Vanessa hums.

“Kegel beads aren’t necessarily sexual,” Lorelei continues, holding up said item, “but they’re designed to strengthen pelvic muscles. This can be used to aid sex as well as childbirth or other sometimes-unpleasant natural physical occurrences.” She wrinkles her nose, but more about childbirth than the bathroom-type bodily functions she’s referring to. “You simply insert the beads, which are attached with a cord of some kind, into your vagina, and squeeze them either to help practice kegels or just to appreciate the sensation.”

Mantis looks vaguely horrified, but all she says is, “I’m sure that’s very pleasant for some people.”

“Some companies also make items specifically to be used by those who squirt,” Lorelei declares, holding up what appears to be a blanket. “Some people with vaginas expel clear fluid when they orgasm, which can be considered a form of ejaculate, and while towels can be used to protect one’s surroundings, many people prefer specially-made moisture-containing throes like this one. They come in a variety of different materials including microfiber and shag.”

“Those sound nice,” Matt says. “Texture-wise, I mean.”

“We definitely used something similar at least once, Matthew,” Elektra says with a smirk.

Lorelei surveys the room - those who don’t simply look smug, Elektra and Vanessa and Aida and Raina and to a lesser extent Bobbi, seem slightly overwhelmed with information, but that’s not surprising. “And now,” she says grandly, “we can discuss anal toys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Leaf Life](https://heyepiphora.com/2012/05/review-life/).  
> [Turbo Glider](https://heyepiphora.com/2010/05/love-letter-to-the-turbo-glider/).  
> [Jopen Key Comet II Wand. ](https://heyepiphora.com/2014/04/review-comet-ii-wand/)[We Vibe Nova](http://www.adameve.com/adult-sex-toys/vibrators/rabbit-vibrators/sp-we-vibe-nova-101492.aspx?ac=eepid-151535-2072424920&cm_mmc=affiliate-_-EbayEnterprises-_-Publisher-_-151535).  
> [Hitachi Magic Wand (Rechargable)](https://heyepiphora.com/2015/05/review-hitachi-magic-wand-rechargeable/).  
> [Crystal Delights Star Delight](https://heyepiphora.com/2012/08/review-star-delight/).  
> [Jollies / Chavez Dezignz Jollet](https://heyepiphora.com/2010/03/review-jollet/).  
> [New York Toy Collective Carter](https://heyepiphora.com/2017/02/review-carter/).  
> [Vixen Creations Mustang](https://heyepiphora.com/2011/10/review-mustang/).  
> [LELO Luna Beads](https://heyepiphora.com/2009/02/review-lelo-luna-beads/).  
> [Liberator Décor Fascinator Throe](https://heyepiphora.com/2012/03/review-decor-fascinator-throe/).


	164. no easy way to say this, you mean well, but you make this hard on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is feeling stressed about impending parenthood. Luckily, one of his friends decides to help.

Clint wakes up a little earlier than usual on Thursday morning, even though he doesn’t have work. He flops around for a few minutes trying to go back to sleep, but when he can’t he shrugs and gets out of bed. Laura’s still passed out, snoring softly, and he smiles and leans over to kiss her shoulder before heading out to the kitchen to make coffee.

While that’s brewing, he opens the front door to check for the paper. (He definitely _isn’t_ just getting it for the comics page, he reads the news too! Laura laughed at him when he subscribed - “the internet already has the news, dork” - but he kind of likes to have them around. Plus, he has something to ward Lucky away from his pizza now.

He looks down, still half-asleep, and blinks. There’s something else on the front porch.

He leans down to look at it, confused. “The fuck?”

It’s a baby. Not a _real_ baby, he pokes it very gently to make sure, but it’s made of plastic and strapped into a blue car seat. There’s an envelope sitting on top of it, which he opens after glancing around to make sure no one is watching him.

_Congratulations! You are the proud new parent of bouncing Baby Think It Over!_

_Baby Think It Over is an award-winning simulator designed to give users a “trial experience” in infant care. You will care for your new baby by ensuring that when it cries, you attend to its needs by feeding, changing, rocking, or burping it until it lets you know it’s happy with a little coo. The sensors inside Baby Think It Over will ensure that you are learning how to properly hold it as well as give it adequate neck and body support, and avoid mistreatment that may cause Shaken Baby Syndrome or other injuries. You will also be expected to keep Baby Think It Over in its car seat when you are not holding it, or it will reflect negatively on your score._

_The Baby Think It Over kit includes:_

  * _One (1) Baby Think It Over simulator_
  * _One (1) two-piece outfit_
  * _One (1) sleeper_
  * _One (1) infant bodysuit_
  * _Two (2) color-coded diapers_
  * _One (1) bottle_
  * _One (1) car seat_



_You will be scored based on your ability to soothe and care for Baby Think It Over, and given a report at the end of the programmed rental period. Your experience with Baby Think It Over will last for four days. At the end of the fourth day, please leave Baby Think It Over along with all its accessories on your doorstep. You will receive printed records of your score the next morning._

There’s no name or address on the paper, nothing to indicate who’s written it or sent this thing. Clint reads it over twice, utterly baffled. Sure, he’s been whining a lot about not knowing what the hell he’s doing with a baby, but this is... _ridiculous._

He grabs the carrier and brings it inside (because he can’t just _leave_ it on his doorstep, that feels weird) before grabbing his phone and calling Natasha. It’s just after eight, so when she picks up she just grunts, “What, Barton?”

“Why’d you put a fake baby on my doorstep?”

“ _What_?” There’s some rustling on the other end and he hears her murmur something before she adds, “A fake _what_?”

“Baby! Like one of those fake babies they give high school kids in health class so they won’t get pregnant. It was on my doorstep this morning. Where did you even _find_ one of these, Nat?”

“I didn’t,” she groans. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Clint. I’ve been in bed with Sharon since like ten last night. Haven’t left my place at all. Swear to God.”

“Seriously? Nat, I’m not fucking around here, this paper thing says I’ve got this for four days and I-”

“It wasn’t me!” Natasha interrupts. “I don’t even know where you’d get one of those things.”

By this point Lucky, apparently woken up by the commotion, has come over and started sniffing the fake baby like he’s thinking about eating it. Clint nudges him away with his foot and puts the car seat on the counter, out of reach. “Well, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“Dude, I dunno. You deal with it, you’re the one who couldn’t keep it in your pants.” There’s a soft exchange on the other end of the line and then Natasha says, “Sharon’s up and not wearing pants, so I’m gonna take advantage of that. Have fun with your robot baby.” She hangs up without another word.

Clint stares at the phone for a second, and then the fake baby starts to whimper and then cry. “Fuck,” he mutters, reaching to start unbuckling it from the carseat. “Hey, hey, chill out,” he murmurs, lifting it out of the carseat and fumbling through the bag it came with. “Is this what you want?” He grabs the bottle and tucks it between the fake baby’s lips, but it keeps crying, so he tosses the bottle aside and starts rocking it.

After a minute Laura emerges from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes and groaning. “What the hell is going on?” she asks drowsily.

Clint looks over at her guiltily. “I don’t know!” The baby’s cries slowly subside until it coos and then falls silent. “I found this creepy robot baby on the porch with this.” He carefully cradles the baby with one arm (in a way that he’s pretty sure isn’t going to break its fake little neck) and holds out the paper with the other.

Laura reads the note and then gives him the most skeptical look possible. “So one of your friends is trying to teach you a lesson?” she asks. “Have you asked Natasha?”

“She insists it wasn’t her,” he says, shrugging. “Anyway, I guess I have this thing till Monday. Sorry it woke you.”

“Can you keep it quiet till ten-thirty?” she asks him.

“I’ll try, yeah.” Clint smiles at her apologetically. “Going back to bed?”

“For a little while,” Laura says. “If I can.”

“Okay.” Clint leans over to give her a quick kiss. “Love you. I’ll, uh, take Junior out back if he gets loud. Or...she?” He checks the baby’s diaper quickly, then says, “He. Shouldn’t have assumed just ‘cause he’s wearing blue, though.”

“You’re cute,” she replies, smirking… and then yawning. “Love you too. See you in a bit.”

 

* * *

 

The first day passes without him accidentally murdering Junior, which he considers a minor victory. Laura heads to work later in the afternoon, and she has a closing shift so he texts Natasha to see if she has dinner plans. She and Sharon agree to meet him at Applebee’s. Well...him and Junior.

“He’s got your eyes,” Natasha says with a smirk when she sits down at the table across from him.

Clint glares. “I’m still not convinced you didn’t do this, y’know.”

Natasha gives him an utterly innocent look. “Sharon can vouch for me. I didn’t leave the apartment all night.”

“She didn’t,” Sharon agrees with a smile. “She definitely didn’t even leave the bedroom until like eleven in the morning.”

Clint makes a face. “TMI. Whatever. Anyway, Junior and I are doing fine. You wanna hold him?” he asks Sharon with a grin.

“For all you know we were doing crosswords,” Sharon retorts brightly. “I’ll have to pass. Not really seeing the appeal of a robot baby.”

“Just a robot baby?” Natasha teases her.

Before Sharon can respond, Hunter wanders over. “Can I get you any- Jesus.” He interrupts himself to gawk at the car seat next to Clint. “What, did she pop it out early?”

Clint puts his head in his hands. “No. It’s a robot and it showed up on my doorstep this morning.”

“Yeah? Is it one of those they make kids take care of so’s they won’t get knocked up?”

“Something like that.” Clint sighs. “I guess I was freaking out a little about not knowing how to do baby stuff, but this is ridiculous. I don’t even know where it _came_ from!”

Hunter snorts. “Bobbi.”

“ _What_?” Clint blinks at him. “But…”

“Trust me, mate, this has Bobbi written all over it.” Rolling his eyes, Hunter adds, “Any drinks I can get you?”

“Strawberry margarita, please,” Sharon says sweetly. “ _I_ don’t have to babysit tonight.”

Clint glares. “I can have a drink! I’ll have...I dunno, whatever beer you think is best.”

“Whiskey lemonade,” says Natasha. “Also, of course it was Bobbi. She’s the only one who puts more effort than me into annoying you.”

Clint is furiously scrolling through his phone. “I’m gonna call her and give her a piece of my mind! Wait, I don’t have her number. You do, right?”

Natasha smirks and reaches for his phone, dialing the number. Once Bobbi answers, Clint demands, “Why did you give me a fake baby?”

“I’m helping, aren’t I?” Bobbi asks, sounding amused (in the background Skye and Jemma can be heard giggling).

That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, so he just pauses for a second and then says, “Um. I mean.”

“You’ve been freaking out about whether or not you’re going to be able to handle having a baby, haven’t you?”

“......yeah.”

“So I’m helping,” Bobbi says brightly. “You practice with this little guy for a few days and make sure you’re in the swing of things.”

Clint pouts. “I...guess.”

“You’ll be glad,” Bobbi promises. “It’s good practice, and hey, it could be fun. TV always made it look all wacky.” Before he can say anything else, she hangs up.

“Dammit.” Junior takes this opportunity to start making noises like he might start crying, so Clint reaches down to offer him a bottle. Luckily, that quiets him.

“So how’d Laura take this?” Natasha asks, grinning.

“She’s, uh, not thrilled. She basically told me she’s already got a baby to worry about and this one’s all mine.” Clint laughs despite himself. “But hey, we’re doing okay, aren’t we?” He pats the side of the car seat affectionately.

 

* * *

 

At least, that’s what he thinks. Until he’s woken up at three AM.

“Jesus _christ,_ ” he groans. He feels Laura moving beside him and murmurs, knowing the answer already, “I don’t suppose you’d…?”

She doesn’t even bother to open her eyes before replying, “Before sunrise he’s your son.”

That makes him laugh, mostly because it’s so unexpected, and he gives her a quick kiss on the shoulder before staggering out of bed. “Love you.”

She doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t really blame her.

The thing is, he thinks while he’s trying to figure out what will make this dumb robot baby stop crying, at least a real baby will be doing cute things sometimes. And he’ll probably have that like, instinctive bonding shit that he hears new parents have. This hunk of plastic, though? He feels nothing for it but annoyance at the moment.

Finally, forty minutes later, Junior lets him go back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning he feels like he’s hungover, except worse, because he doesn’t even have good booze memories from the night before.

Laura’s already gone when he drags himself up, and he scrolls through his phone looking for babysitters. He’s only got a four-hour shift, ten to two, but he sure as hell can’t bring Junior to work with him.

Natasha’s an obvious no. He texts Steve and Sam, but both of them have work too. Bucky says that he’s worried Callie might try to eat Junior, which is a reasonable concern, and Sharon doesn’t answer her phone. So much for that.

Raina? He doesn’t have Raina’s number, and anyway, her phone is probably only good for calling other ghosts. Plus, he literally can’t imagine her with a baby. He tries and his brain just short-circuits. (Or maybe that’s the sleep deprivation.)

His finger hovers over the listing that says MAXIMOFFS before he presses CALL.

“Hello?” Pietro asks.

“Hey, kid. It’s Clint. Are you guys busy today? I have kind of a big favor to ask you.”

“No, Wanda and I both have a day off. She is out walking Hope to work, but we don’t have plans. Why? What is it?”

Clint coughs. “Long story, but basically I have a fake robot baby for a couple days and I have a shift starting at ten today. It’s only till two, but I can’t bring it to work. D’you think you could babysit?”

Pietro laughs. He laughs for a pretty long time, actually, to the point that Clint starts to get sort of annoyed. “Hey, it’s not that funny,” he grumbles.

“It is, actually,” says Pietro cheerfully. “But yes, we can watch it. What do we have to do?”

“It comes with instructions. Basically, do one of four things if it starts to cry, until it stops crying. Make sure you’re not holding it so it fucks up its neck or head. It’s not that hard.”

“Sounds interesting,” says Pietro. “Will you bring it by on your way to work?”

Clint breathes a sigh of relief. “Yeah, sure, sure. Be there in about an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

Clint practically skips away from the Maximoffs’ house after he drops Junior off. Or, he would be if he had the energy for that.

 

* * *

 

When Wanda comes home, she sees Pietro doing jumping jacks in the living room. Junior’s car seat is sitting nearby on the couch, and Cardboard Box sniffing it curiously. “What’s that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Clint has a robot baby for a few days,” says Pietro, pausing his jumping jacks. “It’s to help him prepare for fatherhood. But he had to work, so he asked us to babysit.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “Pietro, you don’t know how to take care of a baby. _I_ don’t know how to take care of a baby.”

Pietro shrugs. “It’s only cried once since he left it here. I made it stop by putting this fake bottle in its mouth.” He holds it up to show Wanda. “If it cries there are only four things you have to do to make it stop.”

Still looking suspicious, Wanda reads the instructions carefully. Once she’s done, she sighs. “What are we supposed to do with it when it isn’t crying?” Cardboard Box comes over to rub his head against her hand and she scratches his ears.

“Dunno.” Pietro goes back to jumping jacks. “It’s just been sitting there.”

Wanda leans over the car seat, looking at it. “At least it isn’t crying,” she says dubiously. “You know I hate hearing children cry.”

“Me too,” says Pietro. “But this one doesn’t that often, so it should be okay.”

They only have one instance where Junior’s crying doesn’t stop almost instantly after they offer him either a burping or a feeding. Wanda’s the one who puts two and two together and suggests changing the robot, which makes Pietro wrinkle his nose, but he does it anyway. “This robot can’t urinate on you,” Wanda points out. “So there’s that at least.”

Hope’s shift ends a couple of hours later, and they head towards the mall with Junior in tow. Wanda, figuring out very quickly that Pietro has trouble holding the baby without bouncing around on his heels and risking jostling it, ends up being the reluctant carrier of the car seat.

When they arrive at the mall, Hope is outside waiting. “Oh my god,” she says, “you weren’t kidding. That really is a plastic baby.”

Wanda shifts it to her other arm, sighing. “Yes,” she says. “We have it until Clint comes to get it back after his shift ends at two.”

“Babies are boring,” Pietro says cheerfully. “Especially this one, since it isn’t real.”

“I always kinda thought, when they had this exercise on TV shows, that it was more an ad for birth control than anything else,” Hope giggles.

“I think that is the point,” agrees Wanda. “In Clint’s case, he was apparently worried he couldn’t take care of a real baby and so Bobbi brought him this one. It’s very fancy.” She glances down at it, looking uncertain. “I haven’t tried picking it up yet. I’m afraid I might break it.”

“What does it _do_?” Hope asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Mostly it just cries,” says Pietro with a shrug. “Then you have to figure out what it needs. There’s only four things so it doesn’t take long to figure out. Like I said, boring.”

They start back toward the house, but Wanda pauses when they’re getting close to the smaller strip mall that’s in the next parking lot over. “Oh,” she says, nodding to where a large moving truck is parked in front of the vacant part of the building. “Someone’s moving in there.”

“That was where that clinic was last year, wasn’t it?” Pietro asks. “The one that disappeared.”

Wanda nods. “I wonder what’s moving in there now.”

They all stop to watch the people entering and exiting the building. It’s mostly burly moving guys, but Wanda notices a tall, dark-haired man wearing a black leather jacket and a woman with long red hair and a lavender dress. They sometimes talk to the moving men and direct them. “They must be in charge,” she suggests.

“I guess,” says Pietro. He points at a younger blonde girl, about their age, wearing a yellow dress and standing nearby. “Maybe she works for them. Hi!” He waves.

“Hi!” the blonde girl calls, waving back. Then she goes to a car parked near the store and releases possibly the biggest bulldog any of them have ever seen, cooing at him for a minute before she starts to walk him in the opposite direction.

“What a good dog,” Hope exclaims, delighted. “I bet he’s the best boy.”

“How do you know?” Pietro asks, tilting his head. “He hasn’t done anything particularly good or bad.”

Hope shrugs. “Until proven otherwise, all dogs are the best dogs,” she says, like it’s a simple fact.

Wanda grins and replies, “I think that’s true.”

 

* * *

 

Once Clint’s back home with Junior, he makes himself at home in front of the TV. Laura has a night class and won’t be home for a couple hours, so he takes the opportunity to put some frozen mozzarella sticks in the oven.

His phone buzzes with a text from Bucky.

_> >Hey, wanna go to the movies? Nat and I are gonna go see the creepy clown flick._

He wants to go. He wants to go _so_ bad, even though he’s pretty sure his fear of clowns has more than a little to do with the fact that he watched the _It_ miniseries at a way-too-young age. But he sighs and looks over at Junior. No way he could take a robot baby to the movies.

_> >Sorry, can’t. Robot baby duty._

_> >Oh, right. My bad. Good luck with that. :P_

Clint sighs and texts Natasha.

_> >This blows. It’s not even that cute of a robot baby!_

_> >Yeah, well, you definitely got yourself into this, Barton._

_> >This being the robot baby or this being impending parenthood?_

_> >Both. Wear a condom next time. No glove, no love! _

_> >I hate you._

_> >I know. ;)_

It’s going to be a long couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what upcoming show we're (not) looking forward to?


	165. I don't need permission to rise up when it hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the night's _Rocky Horror_ , everybody has to take care of a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw violence, general Hydraness.

There’s a commotion outside the theater. That’s not entirely unusual - small independent theaters that share a street with multiple bars of variously ill repute often have commotions outside of them - but it’s louder than it usually is at nine-thirty on _Rocky Horror_ night. Aida is fairly new to the cast, but they feel comfortable making that observation.

They’re here earlier than usual: Alison had called in some of the cast for help repairing set pieces, and given their mechanical aptitude they were in charge of fixing the (actually semi-functional) jukebox, but they’re taking a ten, so they have the freedom to go investigate the noise and rowdiness.

As they get close enough to hear, they resolve to investigate from the safety of inside the theater, out of sight of the troublemakers. It seems to be a group of - who else? - Hydra and Hydra-adjacent men, mostly drunk, yelling increasingly loudly about immorality and how they need to stop it.

Once again, they think, these men have come for the queers, and once again these men are going to regret that decision. As they head back toward the others, they pull out their phone and start texting.

 

* * *

 

“Hm.” Elektra stares at Aida’s text. “Tonight might be even more interesting than we thought.”

Vanessa glances at her girlfriend over her shoulder, frowning slightly. “Why do you say that?”

“Aida just texted me. They said there’s are group of drunk Hydra men outside the theater with some ridiculous signs, yelling vulgarities. Suppose I’d better let everyone else know we’re in for some fun.” Elektra shrugs. “It’s been awhile since I’ve punched someone who truly deserved it.”

“But you’ve punched someone who hasn’t?” Vanessa suggests, smirking.

Elektra smirks right back. “Well, I can’t tell you _everything_ I get up to when you’re not around. It would spoil the mystery.”

“Or it makes you seem naughty enough to need punished,” Vanessa murmurs. “Which I’m not entirely sure you don’t do on purpose sometimes.”

Shrugging, Elektra says playfully, “It’s not like you don’t enjoy punishing me.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes showily, but she’s clearly pleased. “So what do you intend to tell the others? And who do you expect to tell?”

“Kara, of course. She’ll be able to tell everyone else. And Colleen. I think she and her lady friend were staying in for the night, but I’m sure they’ll be willing to join in the fun. I’ll tell them we’ve got unwanted company and they should expect a brawl.”

“Goody,” Vanessa says wryly. “Should I plan on this lingerie getting bloody?”

 

* * *

 

Colleen and Misty are cuddled on Colleen’s tiny couch watching a movie when her phone buzzes. “What?” she groans, because she has to get out from under Misty’s arm (which is pretty-much-but-not-quite draped over her shoulders) to get it from the table on the other side of the couch. “‘M busy.”

“What’s up?” Misty asks, frowning.

“My phone just buzzed.” Colleen sighs before getting up to get it. She sighs even louder when she reads the text. “So I guess the local Nazi gang is making trouble over at _Rocky Horror_ tonight.”

“Is that a call to arms?”

“Yeah. I mean, she sort of just suggested it? But now I’ll feel like shit if we don’t go.” Colleen frowns. “Is that okay? I guess you don’t have to come if-”

“You kidding? Of course I wanna come.” Misty smirks. “Either we present a united front and stare them down, in which case the more the merrier, or we beat the shit out of some fascists, in which case definitely the more the merrier.”

“True.” Colleen tilts her head and grins. “Should I find that hot? ‘Cause I kinda do.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing,” Misty replies, leaning in to kiss Colleen.

 

* * *

 

“-and like, not that I’m not excited for it, but I also am never calling it anything but the fishman fucking movie.”

“I hope you wouldn’t call it that if it came up at work, or something,” Jemma says, sipping her whiskey smash with a coy smile that shows she’s sort of joking.

“I mean, no, I’d say screwing or something,” replies Skye with a grin. “But I kinda doubt it’ll come up. My coworkers aren’t the types to give a shit about weird paranormal romance movies.”

“So few coworkers are,” Bobbi says airily. “Thank whatever for the small accidents that brought together those of us who are, in fact, the type.”

“That’s poetic,” Kara remarks. “You a little drunk, Bobbi?”

“Not drunk,” Bobbi corrects, “just very content.” This is the closest she lets herself get to drunk in public, though, so it sort of counts.

“Do you do this before every underwear musical?” asks Elena wryly. She’s seen _Rocky Horror_ before, but never done a midnight screening, and this is all equally amusing and baffling to her.

A little ways down the table, Darcy adjusts her Mickey Mouse ears and smirks. “Not every time, but it never hurts to pregame.”

“I suppose,” says Elena. “I’d hate to drink too much and not remember the details though.”

“So don’t drink _too_ much, just get a little buzz going,” Darcy suggests eagerly, and she’s about to say more when Kara clears her throat to interrupt.

“Guys?” Kara says, raising her voice so the whole table hears. “I just got a text from Elektra.”

Skye knows what that tone means, and she stops whispering to Jemma immediately. “What’s up?”

“Three guesses and the first two don’t count,” Kara sighs. “Hydra has apparently set its sights on _Rocky Horror_ tonight. Namely, protesting it.”

“Uh?” little Hope asks, frowning.

Wanda pulls her closer and says, “So I’m guessing we’ll need to interrupt them.”

“Or just show them that we’re not gonna let shitheads protest our movie or who we are,” says Gwen with a shrug. “I mean, not me, but you guys who are good at punching. I can throw stuff at them, maybe.”

“Do you have anything to throw?” Jemma asks her. “Or was that generally speaking?”

“Not on me, but you can make most things into projectiles if you try hard and believe in yourself.”

 

* * *

 

A few dozen of their friends show up for the screening, which means they slightly outnumber the crowd of Nazis outside the theater. Then again, about a third of the attendees have opted out of brawling. Claire looks as if she maybe wants to try and talk them out of it, but she knows better. “I’ll be here to help anybody who gets hurt,” she sighs.

Jessica, Luke, and Trish check the front of the theater to spy on the Hydra group while everyone else sneaks around to the back. Aida lets them in, eyes glittering. “The Nazis are drunk and stupid, not that you wouldn’t be able to beat them in a fight anyway,” they say. “Everyone who’s not going to participate can wait backstage with the cast, and I’ll lead the rest of you to the front.”

“Are we sure talking to them isn’t an option?” Foggy asks. “I mean, I definitely think they should be punched in the face, but if we can just tell them to fuck off, shouldn’t we try it?”

“He’s not gonna stop suggesting it until we try,” Karen says fondly.

“I have to,” Foggy points out. “I might have to represent some of you if one of these bastards sues.”

“Half the police in this town are bought off by the ugly little octopi,” Raina says, “but the courts will still convict them. They wouldn’t try.”

Foggy shrugs. “Can I at least try talking?”

“Let him,” Karen sighs. “But one of y’all needs to be his bodyguard since Matt skipped out tonight.”

“I will protect him!” says Drax gleefully, stepping forward. “I am happy to take Matthew’s place. But not for sexual or romantic purposes,” he adds quickly. “I am very satisfied in my current relationship.”

“Um, good,” squeaks Foggy. “Because...yeah.” He looks too surprised to say anything else. There’s a chorus of snickers around the room.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Aida says pleasantly. “Would anyone like to see if there is anything backstage they could use as a weapon before we go?”

Gwen’s hand shoots up immediately. “Told you,” Gwen says, looking smug.

“That’s my girl,” says Peter fondly.

Quill looks uncertain. “I mean, I can go, but I should probably stay and look after Mom and Mantis.”

“I’m fine!” Mantis chirps.

Meredith - who is easily the oldest person in the group, but no less enthusiastic than the others - chuckles. “Stay here and help me guard everyone,” she says, offering the option that makes him sound a little better.

After a cursory loop of the backstage area (which mostly yields small tools and blocks that serve as doorstops, since nobody wants to ruin actual props or use anything that might accidentally be fatal) Aida guides the fighters toward the front entrance. “You’re up, Franklin,” they prompt, nodding at the door.

Foggy sighs, muttering to himself (why did he _ever_ let Elektra find out his real first name) as he and Drax walk outside. He’s more than a little nervous - okay, he’s freaking the hell out, but he thinks maybe he can save his friends from getting hurt. “Gentlemen,” he calls as they approach the rowdy Nazis. “Or...people. Gentlemen might be too kind a word for you, to be honest.”

“Yeah?” asks one of the guys lazily. “What d’you want, freak?” Foggy’s never felt self-conscious in his Frank-N-Furter outfit before, but now he’s thinking maybe it wasn’t the best choice for confronting drunk angry Nazis.

Foggy clears his throat. “Look, I know you guys are all about freedom of speech and individual rights. And I can see by your...signs…” He squints; a few of them are holding up makeshift signs that were clearly made at the last minute, and the fact that they’re written in ballpoint pen means they’re pretty hard to read. One of them has a _very_ rude word on it. “...that you feel pretty strongly about this movie. We do too. We happen to like it. And we think we should be able to peacefully gather to watch it without you guys coming in here to ruin all our fun.” Okay, this speech is starting to fall apart. That last drink he had earlier is definitely going to his head. If Marci were here she’d kick his ass for such a poor defense. “You know,” he says, as a last-ditch attempt at a connection, “if Alexander Hamilton were still alive, I bet he’d love _Rocky Horror._ ”

(Inside the theater, Aida shakes their head. It’s easy to see why everyone else thought punching was going to be more effective. His attempts are really very endearing, but completely useless.)

Foggy smiles hopefully at the closest Hydra guy, who’s really only about a foot in front of him by this point. “So how about it? You guys can head home and we’ll just watch our movie in peace.”

“Or not, pussy,” the guy says, and decks him in the nose.

“Look out, Foggy!” yelps Drax, as Foggy falls to the ground. Foggy only sort of absorbs this, because he’s too busy rolling around on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes. Then he hears Drax yelling “Do not hurt my friends!” and some Nazis yelling back, and then someone is helping him up.

“C’mon,” she hisses, and, oh, it’s Trish, that makes sense. He carefully keeps one hand sort of vaguely over his nose as she grabs his arm and steers him forward. He just lets her. “I’m sure you tried,” she consoles, though she doesn’t put a lot of effort into sounding particularly solemn about it.

Once they’re back to the rest of the group, Karen rushes forward to take over. “Oh, Foggy,” she says despairingly, “again?”

Claire comes over to gently wave her away so she can look more closely at his nose. “I thought you were the sensible one,” she sighs. “Murdock’s rubbing off on you in more ways than one, huh?”

“That’th not fubby,” whines Foggy. But he doesn’t deny it, either.

Candace rushes over with the first aid kit that one of the cast members found, and to hear her laughing, it definitely is funny.

 

* * *

 

“Of course this happens the first time we come to this in months,” Sharon calls as she dodges a Nazi’s fist.

“What, you weren’t getting bored?” teases Natasha, landing a good right hook directly on one’s jaw. “Things were so quiet I wasn’t sure if we’d get to do this anymore.”

“I meant, of all the _Rocky Horror_ nights in the world, these Nazis had to walk into ours?” Sharon cracks, leveraging herself to throw the Nazi currently trying to grab her into Steve.

“I’m more surprised it took them forty-two years to decide this movie was worth protesting,” Steve jokes, knocking the man out.

Sam sighs. “Not a bad point,” he grunts, taking a kick to the shin so he can jump forward and use the guy’s weight against him while he’s unbalanced.

Bucky is grinning from ear to ear, even though he’s got what is probably going to turn into a black eye and is bleeding out of his mouth. He’s bouncing around punching whoever he can, which sometimes makes him the target for stray fists and kicks, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Just like old times!” he says brightly.

Misty and Colleen, meanwhile, are tag-teaming a particularly aggressive Hydra guy, and Misty smirks. “Like I said, more the merrier,” she declares.

Colleen ducks out of the way of his fist before jabbing him in the ribs a couple times. “Glad you’re having fun,” she gasps. “I’d hate to think you weren’t.”

“This isn’t the weirdest date I’ve been on by a long shot,” Misty laughs.

Elektra dances by, holding a knife that is definitely dripping blood. “I hope very much that you’re regretting your decisions this evening,” she says sweetly to a Nazi who pops up in front of her.

“I don’t regret a thing, bitch,” he hisses, and goes for her knife.

Unfortunately for him, she moves so quickly he doesn’t have time to react, and slips it into his shoulder like hot butter. “Well, you _should_ be,” she says. “I suppose I’ll just have to leave you with a few wounds to remind you of that, for next time.”

Skye and Bobbi are nearby, sort of half-watching Elektra go to work on the guy. Well, Skye’s watching more than Bobbi, who’s taking care of a guy with her fists. “I’m glad you just hit them until they go down,” Skye remarks. “It’s more subtle.”

“Also less potentially incriminating,” Bobbi remarks. “I can _do_ knives, but it’s never been my thing. This just feels more natural.”

Drax is yelling delightedly, plowing through Nazis like he’s a bulldozer; Joey follows him, finishing them off if need be. Akela and Elena are back-to-back, Akela using her knife and Elena her fists. Kara has definitely used her kubotan on at least one guy so hard that it made him bleed.

In the middle of all of this chaos, Dottie - wearing a startlingly accurate Columbia outfit - saunters in and beams. “Oh, goodie! I didn’t realize we were brawling tonight!” She dashes over to the first Hydra guy she can find, who’s part of a pair who are fighting Wanda (who is doing her best but seems slightly overwhelmed), and taps him on the shoulder. “‘Scuse me, but weren’t you ever told not to hit a lady?” she asks. Then, before he can answer, she grabs his nose and twists it so there’s an audible snap before kneeing him in the stomach, sending him sprawling. “I thought not,” she adds sweetly, before ambling off to find another Hydra person to fuck with.

Robbie is doing his best, but, well, he’s mostly learned to fight from being kind of a scrawny kid and these guys have learned more offense than defense. T’Challa notices this and comes over to help him, grabbing the Nazi by the shoulders and tossing him away. “I think you should be fighting someone who can better match your skills,” he says with a smirk. “I should do the job nicely.”

Jessica also has a pretty good black eye, but she and Luke are side-by-side, doing a pretty good job of fending off anyone who comes their way. “You’re enjoying this too much,” Luke says to her.

“Damn right I am,” replies Jessica, looking smug.

 

* * *

 

Eventually the last few stragglers come back inside, where Claire has set up a makeshift nursing station. “Oh good, just you two left,” Claire says, visibly relieved, as Jessica staggers in with Luke close behind her. “That’s a good shiner you have there, Jones.”

“Fuck off,” grunts Jessica.

“Wouldn’t be a good brawl if there weren’t at least three black eyes in the room,” Trish remarks, coming over to kiss her girlfriend and her boyfriend. There’s Jessica, there’s Bucky, and then there’s Joey (his black eye caused a Hydra member to nearly get almost killed by Drax).

“You all take care of the bad guys?” asks Meredith.

“Oh yeah,” says Natasha smugly. “They won’t be back for at least a week.”

“Good job,” Trip says, giving Skye and then Bobbi hugs. “Glad you guys are okay.”

“They always are,” Jemma says proudly.

 

* * *

 

Everyone gets settled in the theater and the cast gets ready to go on. Opening activities commence as usual (there’s a kerfuffle about getting Gabe onstage for virgin initiations, as the very small theater was built before accessibility was a concern, but they just haul out the ramp they use for Dr. Scott ahead of time) and everyone seems mostly recovered from their injuries (Misty and Colleen weren’t planning on staying, but the back of the theater is a better place than the bus home to wait for their heads to stop hurting and their noses to stop bleeding) and overall, everything is getting back to their normal.

As the lights dim, it’s easy to hear Mantis declare, apropos of nothing, “I don’t think I understand this movie, but I enjoy the Time Warp very much.”


	166. let's pretend we're all healed up and happy and moved on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Tony's Halloween party. Guests are starting to arrive, but Tony is unsatisfied.

Rhodey almost always shows up before everybody else to help Tony set up, so the fact that he’s not here and it’s almost seven o’clock is putting Tony on edge. He doesn’t even have that much to do (mostly just hanging streamers and checking on the booze selection for the eighth time) but Rhodey usually does most (all) of this. Tony, as it turns out, is terrible at streamer-hanging.

He sighs and pulls out his phone to text Rhodey one more time - _u said u would b here :( -_ when JARVIS announces that someone’s at the door. Tony bustles over, expecting to scold Rhodey, but instead it’s Gwen, and what looks like a giant Muppet.

“Uh,” he says, intelligently. “You’re not Rhodey.”

“No,” says the Muppet. “Peter, and this is Gwen.” Tony can sort of see through the mouth-hole, and sure enough, that’s Parker.

“Yeah, yeah, I know who you are,” says Tony, and regrets it a little when the kid makes a face like Tony’s just said his science experiment was kindergarten-level or something. “It’s just,” he adds, more gently, “I’ve been expecting Rhodey for like half an hour now…”

“Sorry,” says Gwen with a shrug. “Can we come in? It was kind of a long walk over here from the bus station.”

“Sure.” Tony steps aside to let them in, then glances her up and down. Her outfit is a dress-like something that’s tight at the top but flares out around her legs stiffly. “What are you supposed to be, a sexy thermometer?”

Gwen makes a face. “No, I’m a beaker. Like a science beaker.” She rolls her eyes and points at Peter, who is wearing a lab coat along with the Muppet mask that covers his entire head. “This dope was supposed to be one too, but apparently when I said ‘beaker costume’ he misunderstood.”

“Meep meep,” says Peter cheerfully, shrugging. “I think it came out pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it looks great,” replies Tony, but he’s distracted. He has no idea how to entertain these guys. “There’s beer and stuff over there. And food, too.” He makes a vague shooing motion with his hand.

Instead, Peter is gazing around the entryway in awe. “I’ve never been in a rich person’s house before,” he says, eyes wide. “I was hoping...I mean, after the wine-tasting party you had I was hoping your house would be like that. And it is!”

“Thanks?” Tony really has no idea what to do with this.

“Are we late?” Peter asks. “The invitation said seven so I figured-”

Tony sighs. “Nope. First ones here, actually.”

Gwen laughs and grins at Peter. “See? Told you it would’ve been fine.” Peter sticks out his tongue at her and grins back.

“Okay,” says Tony, “now we’re gonna play a game called ‘go have a snack and drink while you wait for other people to show up.’” He gestures at the bar. “Anything you want.”

Gwen’s eyebrows go up. “Cool!” She grabs Peter’s hand and guides him over toward the snack table.

Tony breathes a sigh of relief and goes back to attempting to hang streamers. It’s not five minutes before he’s interrupted by another knock at the door. He runs over hopefully, but it isn’t him at all.

“Ohhhhh yeah!” exclaims Laura B. in a deep voice, both hands on her very big and currently very bright red belly.

“What,” Tony says, eyes wide.

“He made me say it,” Laura sighs, nodding sheepishly at her husband.

Clint grins at Tony. “D’you get it?” he asks with glee.

“She’s the Kool-Aid...person?” Tony asks, after a few moments of deliberation.

Laura nods. “You can just say the Kool-Aid man, that’s what he is,” she declares. “But, y’know, I see what you did. I’m sure that’ll count in your favor when they decide which place you get to end up in.”

Tony just blinks at her for a second. “Sure?” He turns to Clint. “I have no idea what you are.”

“I’m just an 80s kid,” Clint says. Sure enough, he’s dressed like someone who grew up in the eighties would be, and his mouth is smeared with red.

“Gotcha.” Tony snorts. “Judging by your mouth, you’re...enjoying...what it has to offer.”

“I told you that was gonna happen,” Laura says, elbowing Clint pointedly.

“Hm?” Clint gives her a blank look. “The mouth thing?”

“Yeah, you dope,” she sighs.

“It’ll be fine,” he insists, squeezing her hand. “People won’t think of that right away.”

“He did.” This with a slightly disapproving glance in Tony’s direction.

“Hi, still standing here,” says Tony, smirking. “C’mon in, there’s food and drinks and stuff.”

“We’re obscenely early, aren’t we,” Laura deadpans, carefully making her way into the house.

“Kind of,” Tony says, “but make yourselves comfortable. The little science geeks are over there.” He waves his hand toward where Peter and Gwen are in the middle of a spirited discussion. He can’t hear most of it from over here, but it seems like they’re discussing something science-related.

Clint nudges Laura over toward the food. “Thanks, Doc Brown!” he calls over his shoulder.

Tony’s about to correct him when he hears someone say “Ruh-roh!” It turns out to be Bucky. He’s wearing a brown hoodie with dog ears and an oversized green collar around his neck.

Tony raises an eyebrow, but then he notices the others behind Bucky (wearing the outfits of the rest of the Scooby Doo gang) and remarks, “Well, that explains the collar.”

Sharon - who’s Velma by virtue of the fact that Natasha’s actually a redhead - rolls her eyes, but with a smile. “Does it?” she mutters fondly.

Tony blinks. “Because he’s...Scooby Doo?” he asks, tilting his head. “And you’re Shaggy,” he adds, smirking at Steve. “Always thought that was kinda a weird name. Since, y’know.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Natasha asks Tony, gesturing at his outfit.

“Oh, this?” Tony glances down at his suit jacket and adjusts his fake bushy mustache. “I figured sexy costumes weren’t working for me, so I decided to try for smart. I thought Einstein might do the trick.”

“You realize those two things aren’t mutually exclusive?” Sam asks dryly.

Tony shrugs and replies, “Worth a try. Hey, you guys have seen the movie, right?” He raises an eyebrow at Sharon and Natasha. “You know there was supposed to be a kiss between Velma and Daphne that they cut, right?”

“Duh,” says Natasha, rolling her eyes.

“I think he’s working up to something,” Sharon observes.

“Tony?” Steve asks, smirking. “That couldn’t be.”

“I’m standing right here,” Tony says with a pointed cough. “So how about it?”

Sharon glances at Natasha, prompting her to take the lead on the response. Natasha tosses her hair and says, “In your dreams, Stark.”

“Here’s hoping,” says Tony mildly, stepping out of their way. “Drinks over there, food over there. Better not split up, gang.”

“Funny,” says Sam as they enter, but he’s grinning.

 

* * *

 

“Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks again for the gear,” Gabe says eagerly. As Bobbi had promised it could be, his holster is attached to his chair, looking surprisingly natural, and the gun is inside. “It really saved me some time putting it together.”

“It was important!” Skye says, grinning at him. “And you look badass, Captain Andor.”

He grins, definitely blushing a little. “Thank you,” he says. “I really wanted to do him justice.”

“You do,” Bobbi promises. “Just a word of warning, though, probably steer extra-clear of Loki tonight. He’s an Empire-First Order fan.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, yikes,” Gabe mutters, grimacing. “Noted.”

“Shocking _nobody,_ ” snarks Skye. “He was Kylo last year. Maybe he’ll go all-out this year and dress up as Hux or something,” she adds, making a face.

“Who?” Robbie asks. He’s not as into _Star Wars_ as the rest of them, which is obvious from the fact that his Obi-Wan costume is basically a bathrobe.

“The ginger space Nazi,” Bobbi explains, smirking.

“Also probably Kylo’s boyfriend, honestly, but not in a cute endearing way so much as a quarantine the terrible way,” Jemma adds. She’s learned things!

“Oh.” Robbie wrinkles his nose. “That guy.”

Skye nods. “Anyway. Drinks, anyone?”

“Yes, please,” Jemma chirps. “I’ll come with to carry.”

“You know what I like,” Trip says mildly. “Thanks.”

“Something with whiskey, if they’ve got it,” Robbie says.

“Tony has everything,” Skye replies. “Bobbi, Gabe?”

“Whatever you think is best,” Gabe says, smirking. “I still need to branch out, I admit.”

That makes Skye laugh. “I got you, man.”

“Just something easy for now,” Bobbi says, making no secret of how she’s glancing around the room. “You guys seen Audrey yet?”

“Awwww,” Jemma croons.

“Do you _miiiiiisssssss_ her?” Skye singsongs, giving Bobbi a shit-eating grin.

“I’m wondering where she is,” Bobbi says archly. “She completes the group, after all.”

“Why does your shirt have boob holes in it anyway?” Robbie asks, looking baffled.

Skye looks agape. “Dude. Are you saying you’ve never seen _Mean Girls_? Gabe, you’re slacking in your brotherly duties, I’m disappointed.”

“With Robbie, ‘seen it’ and ‘remembered it’ are two different things,” Gabe says solemnly.

Robbie shrugs. “He put it on like, once I think? Lindsay Lohan is in it, right? I kind of remember that.”

Just then, Audrey strolls up. Her hair is sprayed red (badly) and she’s wearing a huge pink polo shirt. “Lindsay Lohan indeed,” she says, gesturing to herself.

Bobbi snorts and tousles Trip’s very fake wig. “Tell him his hair looks sexy when it’s pushed back,” she coaches Audrey, smirking.

Audrey obliges, saying, “Your hair looks sexy when it’s pushed back.”

If It’s possible, Robbie looks even more confused. “See, Bobbi is Regina George,” explains Skye. “How do I begin to explain Regina George?” She looks expectantly at Jemma for the next line.

“Regina George is flawless,” Jemma intones.

“She has two Fendi purses and a silver Lexus,” Skye continues.

“I hear her hair’s insured for $10,000,” Jemma adds.

“I hear she does car commercials...in Japan.”

“Her favorite movie is _Varsity Blues._ ”

“One time she met John Stamos on a plane-”

“-and he told her she was pretty!”

“One time,” Skye finishes, completely serious, “she punched me in the face.” Then she smiles. “It was awesome.”

“Did you rehearse that, you nerds?” Bobbi asks, chuckling.

Skye nods. “Of course! Anyway,” she adds, looking back at Robbie, “Regina George is the queen bee of the school and Cady and her friends try to take her down by doing a bunch of dumb pranks to make her look dumb. One of them is cutting boob holes in her shirt, but Regina George just ends up wearing a tank top underneath it. Then everybody starts cutting boob holes in their shirts. I’m Gretchen Weiners from the Christmas talent show dance,” she adds, gesturing to her Santa-esque short dress.

“I’m Karen Smith from Halloween,” Jemma explains, grinning. “I’m a mouse, duh.”

“And I’m Cady,” Audrey says. “Which I imagine is much comfier than the rest.”

“It’s an aesthetic,” says Skye with a shrug. “And you have Damien’s pink shirt anyway.”

Audrey just shrugs gamely. This so wasn’t her idea, but she’s participating (and not just because it makes Bobbi happy, although that helps).

“You guys are awesome,” Gabe declares.

“Aw shucks,” Skye says cheerfully. “We try! Anyway. C’mon, Karen Smith, let’s go get drinks.” She wanders toward the bar with Jemma close behind her.

“What are you supposed to be?” Audrey asks Robbie, tilting her head.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, I guess,” says Robbie with a shrug. “Gabe asked me to match him, and this was the easiest _Star Wars_ costume.”

“Cool,” Audrey says, somewhat hesitantly. She knows about as much _Star Wars_ as Robbie does, which is apparent.

“Yeah.”

They all stand there awkwardly, just kind of staring at each other, for a few minutes until Skye and Jemma return with drinks. After Skye’s passed them out, she asks cheerfully, “Oh my god, have you guys seen _The Backstroke of the West_?”

 

* * *

 

“Hello!” bellows Drax, walking into the room holding a cinder block. He’s wearing a black Under Armor shirt, black jeans, and not much else.

“Care to explain?” calls Sharon, sounding amused.

“I am The Rock from the _Fast and the Furious_ franchise!” he says, setting down the cinder block to walk over to the bar and start pouring himself a drink. “But I am not an actual rock. I am the character portrayed by Dwayne Johnson, who was called The Rock during his wrestling career.”

“Glad you cleared that up for everyone,” snarks Nebula. She’s got a blonde wig on with terrible (possibly terrible-on-purpose) dreadlocks.

Gamora, who’s pretty much just wearing regular clothes (emphasis on the leather), snorts. “This is going to be ridiculous no matter what any of us say.”

MJ shrugs. She’s wearing a tank top and vest and holding a laptop, looking sort of disaffected. “Pretty much.” She grins over at Laura, who is wearing basically the same thing she always wears (leather jacket, leather pants).”How’re you doing over there?”

“Fine,” says Laura. “I wish I could’ve borrowed Remy’s motorcycle. That would have been in-character.”

“Would you have been able to ride it in the house, though?” asks Carina, who’s wearing a dress the usual pink color of her hair and a brown wig.

“No,” says Laura, looking thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. It would’ve been fun to ride it here, though.”

“Um,” Cessily (wearing a cop uniform) said, looking startled. “I probably would’ve ridden in a car. I don’t like being on bikes.” She doesn’t specify that it’s mostly Laura’s style of motorcycle riding that she doesn’t like. Laura’s not exactly cautious or safe about it.

“I know.” Laura smiles at her. “I’m sorry.”

Cessily squeezes her hand. “It’s okay! Just not my thing.”

“So, ah, the rest of you are… other fast car people?” Jemma ventures, wrinkling her nose.

Quill barges into the room, holding a fake gun and a carseat with a baby doll inside. “Hi!” he says, grinning. “I’m Deckard Shaw, Gamora’s Letty, Joey’s Dom Toretto, MJ’s Ramsey, Laura’s Gisele, Cessily’s Elena, Mike is coming a little later ‘cause he and Ace are out but they’re Tej and Roman, Carina is Mia, and she’s Cipher.” He points at Nebula. Then he nods at the carseat and says, “This is Brian.”

Jemma blinks. “I don’t remember their names,” she murmurs to Skye, “does it matter?”

Skye snickers and whispers back, “Not really. Quill is Jason Statham, Joey is Vin Diesel, and the others are also there.”

“MJ is Nathalie Emmanuel, right?” Jemma asks. The implication is that she’d certainly better be, as none of the other women in the group exactly qualify.

“Yeah. Which, the vest is working for her.” Skye nods appreciatively.

“Yes,” Jemma agrees faintly.

 

* * *

 

Maya and Maria are standing by the bar, pouring cinnamon whiskey in lemonade (Maya suggested they coordinate the color of their drinks to their outfits), when Thor and Jane come sauntering into the room. “Looking good, Sandy,” Maya calls, smirking.

“Yeah, well, it was easy,” Jane says with a blush. She and Thor are Sandy and Danny from _Grease_ , circa the end of the movie because it’s more noticeable, and sure, she looks sort of uncomfortable in her skintight pants, but they’re cute.

Thor shrugs cheerfully. “Specifically, I am the Aaron Tveit version of Danny Zuko. He was much better than John Travolta.”

“Agreed,” Maya says. “One of the things that made that watchable.”

“You’d know,” Maria says affectionately, bumping her shoulder. “Nerd.”

“Hey, Mom and I were actually in the same time zone that weekend and she wanted to watch it together,” Maya defends, lifting her hands.

Maria grins. “Whatever you say, nerd.” Then she adds, “Anyway, you two are cute.”

“As are the two of you!” replies Thor. “You are...bees?”

“Bees?” Maya and Maria exclaim in unison.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Jane deadpans.

Maria just looks coy and doesn’t answer, and then Loki, covered in grey paint with black smeared all over his eyes and lips, enters. He puts his finger up in a shushing motion. He seems to be under the impression this is scary.

“Not to be stereotypical, but are you a gothic ghost librarian?” Maya asks, tilting her head.

Loki just rolls his eyes. “If I have to explain it, you don’t deserve to get it.” He shuffles off, in search of someone else to baffle.

Maria blinks. “Explain?” she asks Thor and Jane.

Jane winces. “I think it was called _The Bye Bye Man_ ,” she says. “We didn’t get very far into it before he deemed us too ignorant to understand.”

“I thought that was just a meme,” Maya says, awed.

“It wasn’t,” Thor assures her. “It seems he had a dog made of hamburger? I am more than a bit worried about my brother. He seemed to connect with the film more than most people - it was really quite bad.”

“Hamburger...dog?” Maria sounds like she isn’t believing a word Thor is saying.

“At least tell me you watched it for free,” Maya says.

“Well, it was free for us,” Jane sighs. “Loki, on the other hand…”

“He purchased a Blu-ray copy,” sighs Thor. “I believe on its release day.”

“Jesus,” says Maria. “ _This_ was worth a Blu-ray release?”

“Apparently.” Thor frowns. “Mother sat through the entire film, and told me I was right to leave when I did.”

“I am so sorry,” Maya says, and she’s not even being ironic.

“I took her out for dinner the next night. I thought it might make up for it.”

“He’s the best son in the world, I’m pretty sure,” Jane says to the other women, smiling fondly.

“And this pretty definitively disqualifies Loki from that category,” replies Maria with a smirk.


	167. I dare you darling, just you wait and see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Tony's Halloween party. The party is in full swing, complete with dogs.

When Rhodey and Pepper finally show up, it’s with Bob Barker in tow (wearing an adorable mouse costume). “Hey,” Rhodey says, laughing as Tony leaps forward to give him a hug. “Nice to see you too, pal.”

“You’re late,” says Tony sulkily, not letting go of him.

“Sorry,” Rhodey says. “It took longer to get Bob into the costume than we thought.” He nods down at the dog, who is sniffing around. “We match,” he adds, unnecessarily, gesturing to his dog onesie and Pepper’s cat onesie.

“Yeah.” Tony looks them over. “I can tell. If I’d known you guys were coordinating, I would’ve joined in.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your Einstein thing going on.” Rhodey smirks. “Looks pretty good.”

Tony tries not to look too put out by that as he nods at Pepper. “Guessing you don’t want a hug, huh?”

“If you’re not going to be weird you can hug me,” Pepper says, shrugging.

Tony nods, coming over to hug her almost too carefully. “How’s this?” he asks.

“Still a little weird, but not the weirdest it could be,” she says pointedly.

“Cool,” he says, smiling and letting her go. “Hey there.” He kneels down to scratch Bob Barker behind the ears - as well as he can around the costume anyway. “Wanna bring him to hang out in the dog room?”

“Sure,” says Rhodey, rolling his eyes a little. Tony’s converted one of the smaller rooms downstairs into a “dog room,” pretty blatantly so Bob Barker will love him. Which sort of worked, because Bob loves anyone who feeds him and throws a ball for him, but it hasn’t made him love Tony more than Pepper, which Rhodey’s pretty sure was Tony’s objective.

Once they’ve got Bob settled, Tony heads back out to the main room, just in time to see Raina, Lorelei, and Aida arrive together. Lorelei and Aida’s costumes are - in Tony’s opinion - strange, but Raina’s… well, she appears to be wearing a dress she made by wrapping Ace bandages around herself strategically.

Tony’s mouth falls open. He doesn’t bother to shut it right away. “Uh,” he says, eyes wide. “What...is she supposed to be?” Besides hot, which he figures can go unsaid.

Darcy appears out of nowhere - or he’s pretty sure it’s Darcy underneath that weird mask and hat - and just shouts “Umm” before vanishing again.

This does absolutely nothing to answer Tony’s question.

 

* * *

 

“At least he’s happy,” says Rhodey, tightening his grip on the rope toy Bob Barker is tugging on.

“About getting to come to the party?” Pepper asks wryly. “Because I’m pretty sure he isn’t loving the costume.”

Rhodey laughs. “Yeah, true. But he’s playing and stuff, not sulking.” As if Bob’s heard him, the dog suddenly drops the rope and starts trying to wriggle out of his costume again.

“Is he really capable of sulking, though?”

“If i don’t play with him right away when he wants, sometimes he lays on the floor and looks up at me real sadly,” Rhodey says with a grin. “Basically sulking.”

“I can’t imagine that,” Pepper says, shaking her head. “He’s usually so perky.”

“Usually,” says Rhodey dryly, trying to distract the dog by tossing a ball for him. Luckily, Bob takes the bait and tears across the room after it.

There’s a knock on the door before Kara pokes her head in. “Hey, there room for another pup?” she asks, grinning.

“Hey!” Rhodey grins back. “Always.” He takes the ball from Bob and tosses it again. “The more the merrier.”

“Cool,” Kara says, tugging Autumn into the room and waving for Karen to follow. “Someone’s been chasing her cape all night, I think having someone else to play with will be a good distraction for her.”

“Awww, she’s so cute,” Pepper exclaims, coming over to pet Autumn. “Super...dog?”

“We wanted her to coordinate with us,” explains Karen, gesturing to Kara’s Wonder Woman outfit and her own Supergirl outfit. “I found pictures of, I guess Superman has a dog named Krypto? He’s a big white Great Dane or something, but I figured it didn’t matter too much.”

Bob Barker trots over to leap around Autumn, panting excitedly, and she drops into a play-bow before they dart off together nipping at each other.

“So that’s what’s going on with that,” Kara summarizes, smirking. “I’m just glad she didn’t have to stay home this year, honestly.”

Rhodey nods. “Bob’s happy to see her. And it’s great to see you!” he adds, opening his arms to offer a hug (with the unspoken _if you want_ ).

“You too,” Kara says, going in for that hug. “I’m surprised you’re not being held hostage.”

Snorting, Rhodey says, “He’s busy playing host for the moment. He likes feeling important, y’know. You guys look great, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Karen says brightly, squeezing Kara’s hand.

“I, uh. I had kind of a crisis one of the times I rewatched the movie,” Kara admits, brushing her hand over her scar. “So she convinced me this would be a good way to perk myself up, kind of.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Karen promises.

“Seconded,” says Rhodey. “I mean, if I can say that without being weird.” He grins over at Pepper, like it’s an inside joke between them.

“I don’t mind,” Kara assures him. “And, y’know, thanks. Plus - I don’t know if you heard about the whole _Supergirl_ debacle, but queering her up seemed like a good idea.”

“Plus, I don’t have to wear a wig,” Karen says.

“I haven’t heard, actually,” Pepper says, tilting her head. “You don’t have to get into it, but now I’m curious.”

“Oh, good grief, it’s a whole thing,” Karen sighs. “I’ll explain later when I’m not in such a good mood.”

“Uh oh,” says Rhodey. “Yeah, later sounds good. You guys want any drinks or anything?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Kara says.

“Yeah, I’d take a Mike’s or something,” Karen adds.

“Want anything, Pep?”

“Surprise me,” Pepper offers.

“Alright. Back in a bit!”

When Rhodey comes back, it’s with multiple people in tow. “Hi there!” Skye says, kneeling down to give Bob Barker scritches. “Hope it’s okay if we crash the dog party.”

“Of course!” Kara exclaims, grinning. “They’re here to offer a friendly, peaceable alternative to Tony’s nonsense humanity.”

“Well, we’re very glad,” Jemma says, lavishing attention on Autumn. “They’re lovely and even more adorable than usual, all dressed up.”

“We found out the superdog is actually a thing, so it seemed appropriate,” Karen chuckles. “I mean, not that she’s my dog to… but yeah.”

“She’s close enough to being your dog too,” Kara says, nudging Karen flirtatiously. “I think it’s fine you had a say in dressing her up.”

“Gross,” teases Skye, throwing a toy that the dogs scramble after. “Hey, Jem, we should’ve figured out something for Griffith to wear.” She flashes her girlfriend a mischievous smile.

“Oh, god, she would have tried to murder us,” Jemma groans, but she’s laughing. “Poor thing, I can’t imagine she’s leaving the safety and quiet of the empty bathtub all night, with the constant door-knocking and all.”

Skye nods. “Well, we’ll make up for it later. Treats and snuggles and stuff.”

“Did you dress Ajax up at all?” Kara asks Audrey.

“Not this year,” Audrey shrugs. “But I wish I would’ve known there was going to be a dog room, he’d have loved to come play.”

“Honestly, he’s probably too big for most of the stuff in here,” Pepper chuckles. “He’s a pretty big guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, pretty big,” Audrey agrees. “He’d make do, I bet, but I see your point.”

“He’s pretty smart,” says Rhodey with a shrug. “And dogs are adaptable. I’m sure he and Bob will meet up at the dog park sometime, anyway.”

“That’d be fun,” Audrey says. “But in the meantime, we’ll enjoy these guys.”

“This is so domestic,” Bobbi remarks. “All these pseudofamilies.”

“Doesn’t that make you Ajax’s stepmom, by default?” Jemma teases.

Bobbi rolls her eyes and nudges Jemma pointedly. “You’re being ridiculous,” she says.

“Should I get you a Mother’s Day card next year?” Skye asks, giving Bobbi a shit-eating grin.

“Shut the hell up, cat lady,” Bobbi retorts.

“You did sort of bring it on yourself, bringing up the domesticity,” Kara points out wryly.

Skye giggles. “See?”

“Y’all are cute,” Rhodey says, looking amused.

“Pretty sure this includes you, considering you’re one of the dog parents,” Bobbi remarks.

Rhodey rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t seem upset. “Didn’t say it didn’t,” he says, glancing at Pepper.

Which Skye picks up on, of course. “ _So,_ ” she says pointedly. “How are you two doing?”

“Pretty good,” Pepper remarks, clearly wary. “I mean, I’m good. I’m pretty sure he’s good too.” She shrugs, as if to imply that how _they’re_ doing isn’t the relevant point.

“Just fine, thanks,” adds Rhodey. “Nosy.”

“Hey!” protests Skye cheerfully. “Just giving everybody equal amounts of shit here.”

Rhodey is about to respond when the door opens and Tony pokes his head in. “Hey, guys, we’re gonna play a game of Truth or Dare out there, anybody interested?”

“I’m on call till Matt and Foggy actually show up in case something takes a hilarious turn,” Karen says immediately, shrugging. “So I probably shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stay with her,” Kara says.

Pepper has moved onto one of the couches and Bob Barker took it as an invitation to sit on her, which she knew he would. “I’m otherwise occupied,” she declares.

Rhodey sighs a little but smiles. “I’ll come,” he says.

“We’ll come too!” Skye says, grabbing Jemma’s hand. “I gotta see this. Jem, text Trip and tell him he’s playing too.”

“Okay,” Jemma says, “but he’s just in the other room, we could just go get him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Wait, wasn’t there another one of you? The little curly-haired kid, where is he?”

Jemma frowns, because of course she does, which means that Bobbi puts an arm around her shoulders protectively and glares at Tony, because of course she does. “Fitz is studying abroad,” she says archly. “Which he has been for months.”

“Oh,” says Tony. “Then how come you guys are still hanging out with his boyfriend? I mean, he seems nice and all, but, y’know.”

Skye blinks. “Uh, because we’re _friends_ with him?”

“Happened to be before they were even dating, in fact,” Jemma adds, not bothering to clarify that the friendship only preceded the dating by a very short while. It makes it sound better.

Tony shrugs. “Fair enough. Anybody else coming?” He waits only a second before gesturing for the ones who are joining him to follow.

“See you,” Rhodey says to Pepper, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Woo-woo,” Bobbi whispers to Audrey, smirking as they head out after Tony.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s managed to recruit a couple dozen people to join in on this ridiculous game, and they’re all gathered near (but not beside) the pool. “Okay, we’ve all been to middle school, you know how this works,” Tony says.

“I have not been to middle school,” Mantis pipes up. “I was privately tutored from the time I entered into puberty.” To Quill, in an aside, she adds, “The man who pretended to be our father wanted to protect me from the urges of men. I assume he knew all about them because he was full of those urges himself.”

Tony makes a weird face. “Okay, well, scratch that. Do you know how to play or should I explain?”

“We tell the truth or perform dares?” Mantis offers. “It is featured in many movies.”

“Great, okay then.” He glances around the group and, seeing that Peter and Gwen are sitting kind of nearby, he says, “Hey, Gwen, truth or dare?” See, he remembered their names, he’s doing great.

Gwen, more than a little surprised, says, “Uh, truth?”

“Who’s somebody you pretend to like, but actually don’t?” Tony asks.

Gwen considers for a moment. She _could_ be honest and say, “well, you, actually,” but that seems kind of mean since they are at _Tony’s_ party and all, and plus, Peter’s so excited to be here. Finally she says, “I mean. Flash Thompson’s kind of an asshole, but I have to be nice to him because he runs the science club.”

“Oh,” Tony says, looking slightly disappointed (he probably wanted a juicier answer). “Alright.”

Gwen turns to Skye. “Truth or dare.”

Skye’s eyes gleam. “Dare.”

“Uh,” says Gwen, who is very bad at dares. “Give me a minute.” She frantically googles for dares, then finds one for college students and scrolls until she lands on one that isn’t completely sexual or stupid. “Slap the person to your left on the booty,” she says.

The person to Skye’s left is Bobbi, and Bobbi just bursts out laughing. “You really wanna risk it, sugar?” she asks in a low enough voice that everyone can see she’s teasing but can’t hear the content of the tease.

“Yeah,” Skye says, smirking as she gives Bobbi a playful whack on the ass. “What are you gonna do about it?” she adds, quietly enough that only Bobbi and Jemma can hear.

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. “Nothing I want to discuss in front of everyone,” she remarks.

“Ooh, tell me more later.” Skye bumps her shoulder against Bobbi’s and then adds, “Darce, truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Darcy announces. She’s still wearing her stupid hat, but she took the mask off to make it easier to decipher what she’s saying; this sort of ruins the effect.

“I dare you to…” Skye looks around, then spots a giant trash can in the corner. “Go sit in the trash can for the rest of the game.”

“Can I bring it over here so you don’t have to shout at me the whole time?” Darcy asks.

“Oh, sure. You just have to stay in there the whole time.”

“Done,” Darcy says, and within thirty seconds she’s sitting in (more like perching in the upper half of) the trash can, grinning smugly. “Aida, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Aida says immediately, smirking.

Darcy’s eyes go wide. She wasn’t expecting that somehow, so she whacks Gwen’s arm and demands to see the phone list. Finally, after a few seconds of frantic scrolling (she doesn’t know Aida all that well, but she does know they hang out with Lorelei and Raina, which means they could very well murder her if she does something wrong), she blurts out, “Only use sign language for the next round!”

That’s not the kind of dare Aida expected, honestly, but it’s not like it’s _hard_. Instead, they shrug, quickly sign _as you wish_ , followed by _okay_ so Darcy actually understands, and then they turn to Clint and sign _truth or dare_ with a smile.

Clint looks surprised - he doesn’t use sign language often, and he usually doesn’t run into people who know more than the basic signs - then says (and simultaneously signs, because it seems rude not to respond in kind), “Truth?”

Aida’s smirk turns slightly wicked as they sign _how flexible are you?_ Given that expression, it’s clear they don’t just mean gymnastically.

Turning an interesting scarlet color, Clint repeats to the room, “They, uh, they asked how...flexible I am.” He coughs, and then adds, “I mean, pretty damn flexible, honestly.”

Laura (who’s not playing, just there in solidarity or something) covers her face with her hands and sighs. “Good grief.”

Cint looks around for somebody to embarrass and sees Pietro. “Hey, Pietro, truth or dare.”

Pietro’s on his phone, and doesn’t pay attention until Wanda nudges him with a shoulder. “Hey,” she says. “You’re being truth or dared.”

“Oh,” Pietro says. “Sorry. I was texting.”

“Wait, who are you texting?” Wanda says, tilting her head. “Almost everyone you know is here.”

“I pick truth, you have to tell us who you’re texting!” Clint says triumphantly.

Pietro shrugs. “Crystal.”

“Who?” Wanda asks.

“That girl that we saw, when people were moving into the vacant store. The blonde one, with the big bulldog. I got bored on a lunch break and ran over there to say hello. The dog’s name is Lockjaw, by the way. He’s a good dog. Anyway, she gave me her number and we have been texting.” Pietro shrugs again. “She’s nice.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “I thought you didn’t…?”

“I don’t,” Pietro says. “But she seems to need friends. Her family is very...odd.”

 

* * *

 

Loki is in the middle of dramatically reenacting a scene from _The Bye Bye Man_ as per little Hope’s dare when suddenly, everyone stops paying attention to him and stares at the door.

Coulson and Rosalind have arrived. They’re “sexy” Leia and Han.

Coulson is Leia.

“Holy shit,” Bobbi crows.

Coulson only looks mildly embarrassed by the attention. “Hi, everybody,” he says, waving. “What’s going on?”

“We _were_ playing Truth or Dare,” Darcy says, implying that there’s no way they can go back to it after this.

“Oh,” Rosalind sniffs. “Where’s your most expensive liquor, Stark?”

Tony hops up. “Right this way,” he says, because even though he’s not Coulson, he definitely doesn’t want to cross Rosalind.


	168. giving all that I got 'til I head back home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of Tony's Halloween party. It's time for Darcy's annual costume contest, where everyone's a winner!

“Everybody!” Darcy hollers, standing up on one of the barstools with a surprising amount of coordination for someone who’s had as much to drink as she has. “It’s time for the costume contest!”

“Do we have to?” groans Hunter.

“Yes,” Darcy retorts. “It’s a tradition.”

“And it’s better than letting her DJ!” Tony calls.

“I resemble that remark,” Darcy huffs. “C’mon, everyone, gather ‘round! And if I could get my lovely assistant up here…”

Ian grumbles under his breath, but he goes to join Darcy at the bar. Skye starts barking at him (he is wearing dog ears, so this sort of makes sense).

Once everyone is more or less assembled, Darcy beams and says to Ian, “First certificates, please?”

Ian grabs a surprisingly large stack of certificates from the stack and passes them over. “It’s a new record,” he remarks wryly.

“Indeed it is,” Darcy agrees. “This big bunch of the same award goes to our Furious Car Family of the night, for Commitment to Aesthetic.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Gamora snarks as their whole group of eleven troops up to the bar to receive their prizes. “Another way to put it is that dumbass here had an idea and the rest of us liked how easy it would be to pull off.”

“Yes,” Darcy says, “but I’m also awarding you for the amazing bad wigs and the props. I mean, a cinder block? A baby doll? Really? That takes nerve.”

“I have a cinder block!” Drax says, holding it up and grinning. “It’s quite heavy.”

“Exactly my point,” Darcy declares.

“Hey, c’mon,” says Quill. “I think we look awesome! And it took forever to get everybody sorted out, I did a lot of work.”

“I know, I know,” Darcy says. “Hence, commitment. It’s a compliment, I promise.”

Quill beams. “See?” he says to Gamora. “I told you people would dig it.”

“At least I didn’t have to play _your_ wife,” Gamora replies dryly.

“I mean, all the couples got kind of messed up, anyway,” Carina shrugs.

“And occasionally the genders,” Mantis - who is after all playing Han, a character who’s a boy in the original iteration - chirps. “But I like being in a Furious Car Family!”

Drax pulls her close in a bear hug. “Family is very important in these films,” he says. “That’s why I like them. That, and the excessive explosions and car chases.”

Mike chuckles. “Yeah, I wouldn’t let Ace watch them if they weren’t...sort of weirdly wholesome.”

“Wholesome is a weird word to describe them,” Nebula says, gesturing pointedly to herself. “Considering the onscreen cold-blooded murder in front of an infant and all.”

“At least it wasn’t the onscreen cold-blooded murder _of_ an infant, I guess,” Carina shrugs.

Darcy chuckles. “Funny where those lines are drawn. Our next award, though! That goes to the OG Scooby Gang for Best Nostalgia Costume.”

“Jinkies,” Sharon deadpans as they head up.

“Rank you,” says Bucky in his best Scooby Doo impression, grinning.

“Were you just looking for something that had five characters?” Darcy asks.

“And also something without boob cups,” deadpans Natasha. “Those two-” she gestures at Steve and Bucky “-tried to make us do Power Rangers. I said fuck no.”

“And then I conceded because there are a few too many white people in this bunch to be the new Power Rangers,” Steve says, shrugging cheerfully. “I wouldn’t want to be weird.”

“I still might do Billy sometime,” adds Sam. “But he’s right, it would’ve been too weird.”

Darcy nods. “Well, you guys work it,” she says. “Did you already have that collar, Bucky?” She smirks. “Because of your dogs, of course.”

Bucky makes a face at her. “Nosy bastard.”

“Just asking,” Darcy says coyly. “Anyway, our _Mean Girls_ bunch gets the Four For You award!”

“But there are five of them,” Mantis says, tilting her head.

Skye glares at Quill. “You haven’t shown her _Mean Girls_ yet? What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Hey, we’ve been going through MJ’s entire discography, that takes awhile!”

“Now that we’ve done the contest, can I please put my sweater on?” Jemma asks. “Even in the pool room I’m getting chilly in this.” She rolls her eyes at her so-called mouse costume, which of course is really just lingerie.

“Aw, ‘course, honey,” Bobbi croons, wrapping an arm around Jemma’s shoulders (kind of: this is only mildly effective considering their height difference).

Tony raises an eyebrow. “I mean, you look nice,” he says, and he sounds like he might be trying to be nice and not creepy.

Of course, this makes both Bobbi and Skye turn to glare at him, and Audrey rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the award, Darcy,” she says, pointedly trying to get them back on subject.

“Always happy to support _Mean Girls_ ,” Darcy chirps. “Let’s go ahead and move along to the award for Most Inadvertently Disturbing, which goes to our… weird collection of doll-toys?”

Trish sighs and adjusts her fairy wings, gesturing the rest of her group up to the front. “It wasn’t supposed to be disturbing,” she says. “I just saw bisexual fairy ballerina princess Barbie and thought it was too good to ignore. They’re the ones who got weird about it.”

“Hey,” protests Jessica. “I’m a fucking awesome moth girl or whatever.”

“Yeah, what _are_ you, exactly?” Karen calls from the audience, tilting her head.

“There’s these creepy-ass dolls called Monster High or something and I googled them and one came up that was the Moth Man’s daughter or some bullshit.” Jessica smirks. “So I bought some butterfly wings.”

Skye perks up. “ _Mothman_ is a pretty good movie, actually. Or,” she adds, grinning, “a pretty bad one.”

“What excuse do the boys have, then?” Vanessa asks archly.

Luke shrugs. “GI Joe was easy.”

“I got roped into being this one Ken doll they found a picture of, with stupid-looking hair,” says Malcolm, grinning. “I didn’t have any other ideas, so it’s fine.”

“I think it’s charming,” murmurs Elektra. She’s, probably appropriately as they’re Gomez and Morticia Addams respectively, practically wrapped around Vanessa’s body.

Darcy smiles benevolently. “This transitions into the award for Most Advertently Disturbing, which goes to our _Crimson Peak_ kids,” she announces, waving up Pietro and Wanda and Hope.

“Wait, why disturbing?” asks Tony. “‘Splain.”

Wanda and Pietro look at each other and snicker. Skye’s wearing a shit-eating grin as she answers, “So _Crimson Peak_ is a Gothic romance/horror about a girl who marries Tom Hiddleston and goes back to his estate with him, only to find that his fancy old house is falling the fuck apart, super haunted, and also he bangs his sister and their creepy incest ghost baby is haunting her, and the sister tries to murder her.”

Tony looks startled. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice.

“I’m the girl,” Hope offers. “She’s blonde and innocent and sort of small.”

“He’s Tom Hiddleston,” Wanda says, smirking and pointing at her brother. “I’m the sister who tries to murder her. I’m sure you can put together the joke from here.”

Tony says nothing.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to wear a dress like them,” chirps Pietro. “They’ve been having trouble moving all night.”

Hope glances down and shrugs. “At least Halloween store Victoriana probably isn’t as cumbersome as the real thing,” she says.

“To Pepper and Rhodey and Bob Barker, I award Best Nonsense Animal Family,” Darcy announces, smirking. She figures - correctly - that they’ve retrieved the dog for the moment. She’d dropped hints that they should.

Rhodey chuckles as he steps up to accept it. “Thanks?”

“It’s good,” Darcy assures him. “You guys are a really charming bunch.”

Pepper glances at Rhodey. “We’re a bunch?” She knows they’re a bunch.

“Guess so,” says Rhodey, shrugging. “That okay with you?”

“It is,” Pepper agrees.

“Wow, gross,” Darcy jokes. “Our second dog-related group, Karen and Kara and Autumn, is receiving the award for…” She pauses and takes a deep breath, grinning like an idiot. She’s obviously very proud of this joke. “Ladies Gonna Be Totally Queer In-spite-of- Assholes.”

Karen practically barks out a laugh as they come up to accept their awards. “Honestly, this was all her,” she says, beaming appreciatively at Kara. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“Aw, shucks,” Kara replies, smirking coyly.

“Oh my goodness, another dog!” Mantis exclaims, grinning. “How cute. Stoney stayed at home, but next year I think we should bring him.” She nods seriously.

“Who’s Stoney?” Kara asks. “He hasn’t been to the dog park, has he?”

“No,” Mantis says. “Stoney the weed dog is a stray we found at the beach, and we adopted him.”

“He is called that because he looks as if he has smoked quite a lot of marijuana!” says Drax. “Not because he looks like a stone. He doesn’t, he’s light brown.”

“Some stones are light brown,” Mantis points out.

Quill facepalms.

Darcy smirks. “Mack and Bruce, given that they coordinate with smallest Hope, get Best Dad,” she announces. “Uh, and…” She scribbles a correction to Bruce’s award, since Bruce isn’t technically Hope’s dad. “Dad-Type Boyfriend Person. Yes.”

Bruce blushes, but he looks pleased, and Mack takes the paper with a smile. “Thanks,” he says. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“Dude, you dressed up like an aardvark and a bunny for your four-year-old,” Darcy replies. “Your four-year-old who you actually brought to this godforsaken party and had her take a nap in a billionaire’s spare bedroom because you thought that would be nicer than leaving her with a babysitter. Best Dad.”

Mack shrugs. “She likes _Arthur,_ and she wanted to be Francine. I just brought her ‘cause she was tired after all the running around earlier. Tony’s the one who okayed it.”

“Happy to help,” interjects Tony. (Was he hoping to get on Bruce’s good side by letting his boyfriend’s kid nap in one of Tony’s guest rooms?” Maybe.)

“Still,” Darcy says. “Surprising no one, Best Lesbians (Obviously) goes to Victoria and Isabelle.”

“What are you talking about, I’m shocked,” Victoria drawls. This year they’re Peppermint Patty and Marci, which means that the “obviously” part of the award could as easily mean that they’re obviously lesbians themselves as that the characters were obviously lesbians.

Isabelle grins. “Seemed appropriate. I mean, ‘sir’ isn’t the most accurate word, but.” She winks at Darcy.

Darcy blinks. She’s not really used to that from these two, who generally seem to view her as an annoyance, but she’ll roll with it. “Good enough, good enough,” she murmurs before Ian hands her the next certificates. “Peter and Gwen are awarded Best Misunderstanding for their premier costume contest attempt.”

Gwen sighs and shakes her head, but she’s grinning. “I swear Meep Meep over here did it on purpose,” she says good-naturedly.

“No, I’m just not a good listener,” replies Peter, slinging his arm around her.

“Okay, I admit I don’t get it,” says Foggy. “Explain?”

“I said let’s be beakers for Halloween,” says Gwen. “Like science beakers that you pour stuff into in the lab. My darling boyfriend thought I meant Beaker the Muppet.”

“Meep meep meep,” says Peter, shrugging exaggeratedly.

Foggy nods. “Oh, gotcha. That’s goofy,” he says with a grin.

“Why would you both be the same Muppet?” Vanessa asks.

“I am not a clever man,” Peter replies.

Darcy nods her approval. “Clint and Laura are this year just given Really? You Went There?”

“I _told_ you,” Laura groans as she makes her way up to collect the certificate, holding her belly even though she knows it’s a pregnancy cliche.

Clint just looks amused. “It’s fine, babe.”

She rolls her eyes. “This was his idea,” she tells the group. “All of this was his idea.”

“You can pick the costumes next year, promise,” he says.

“Aw, look at the stupid marrieds,” Darcy chuckles. “Fury and Irani are awarded Best Artful Minimalism. Did they actually stick around for the awards this year?”

“For some reason,” mutters Fury as he and Irani stroll up. Irani’s got her silver hair pulled up into a bun and is wearing stereotypical “old lady” glasses, and Fury is wearing...regular human clothes and a stick-on mustache.

“What are you two supposed to be, anyway?” Maria asks, because she’s one of the few people who can talk to Fury like that without fear of getting her head bit off.

Fury snorts. “Emojis, I guess.”

“It seemed easy enough.” Shrugging, Irani takes the certificate.

“Thor and Jane receive the award for Awww, You Made It Okay!” Darcy continues, smirking.

“Gee, thanks,” Jane deadpans.

“I think she simply means that _Grease_ ’s love story makes some people very uncomfortable,” Thor says mildly, kissing her cheek. “Since in the end Sandy has abandoned her own principles, seemingly to please Danny.”

“Well, yeah, that’s obvious,” Jane says, shrugging. “The phrasing is just silly.”

“You know you love me,” Darcy coos.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jane groans.

“I’ll just move on,” Darcy assures them, grinning. “To the My God, It Makes So Much Sense award for Elektra and Vanessa.”

Vanessa just smirks, nudging Elektra up. “That’s us, dear,” she murmurs.

“Glad you appreciated it,” purrs Elektra to Darcy. “We thought it was rather fitting.”

“You pull it off better than most would,” Darcy says. Despite the fact that she’s pretty sure they’ve both actually literally killed someone before, they intimidate her less than, like, Victoria and Isabelle, mostly because she knows Vanessa from synagogue and she figures that makes her safer than some.

“Much appreciated,” Vanessa says. “I already had the dress, so.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Skye murmurs to Jemma.

“The very first Brain Bleach Award, which I expect might have to become a tradition, goes to Coulson and Rosalind,” Darcy continues with a smirk. For his part, Ian makes a face, which seems to confirm the award’s necessity.

Coulson looks sort of sheepish, but Rosalind just shrugs. “Well, _I_ wasn’t going to wear a bikini,” she says simply.

“Did anyone have to wear a bikini?” Darcy can’t help but ask.

“Ask him, it was his idea,” Rosalind drawls.

“I wanted to do _Star Wars_ costumes,” explains Coulson. “And...well, this was the compromise.”

“You’ve done something just and good for the universe,” Bobbi calls, sounding thoroughly amused.

Coulson looks even more embarrassed, somehow. Rosalind looks smug.

Darcy smirks as she waves them back to their seats and announces, “Best Alternate Ending goes to Hope V. and Pam, because honestly, _Clueless_ is a gay love story and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

“I know, right!” Pam exclaims, laughing. “Honestly, we’re kind of switching roles because I’m already kind of a blonde, but _still_.”

“She got to choose this year,” Hope says wryly. “I think it’s cute how excited she is, though.”

“Aw, thanks,” Pam replies.

Fandral, from somewhere in the crowd, calls quizzically, “I didn’t think that film was especially gay. Doesn’t she end up with Paul Rudd at the end?”

Pam rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised you’ve even seen it, but if you’re actually paying attention it’s incredibly gay,” she says. “Cher could easily be a stand-in for thousands of girls who believe that they’re just ‘picky’ when it comes to men because they’ve yet to meet the so-called ‘right guy’ but haven’t considered the possibility that they’re just thinking they’re straight because of the heteronormative inevitabilities that are programmed into our culture.” Sexuality issues are one of the only things she’s this assertive about, but by god she’s assertive about them.

“And it’s obvious that Tai is in love with her, too, even if they don’t have the words to express it because they’ve been taught that girls like them couldn’t possibly be queer,” Hope adds. “News flash, they can and they are. Also, Brittany Murphy was vastly hotter than Paul Rudd.”

Fandral blinks. “Alright,” he says, seeming unsure of what else to say.

“This year’s Best Actually Canon Ship (Fight Me) award goes to Elena and Akela,” Darcy announces grandly. “On the theme of, you know, queer women.”

Elena, who’s dressed as the reboot Lara Croft, tosses her hair and grins as they walk up together. “It seemed appropriate,” she says. “I’ve watched her play the game enough and Lara and Sam are definitely in love.”

“They are,” Bereet shouts from the audience, grinning.

“Thanks,” says Akela cheerfully. “We arm-wrestled to be Lara and she won.”

“Wait, who’s Sam?” asks Quill, looking baffled. “I mean, I haven’t played any of those games in forever…”

“In the reboot, Lara has to rescue her girlfriend Sam,” explains Akela. “It’s more complicated than that, but I don’t want to spoil. It’s a good game, you should play it.”

Quill nods. “Sure, sure, I’ll do that.”

“Is Lara the one with the triangular breasts?” Mantis asks him.

Akela makes a face. “Yeah, but she doesn’t look like that anymore. She looks like a regular human woman now. With regular breasts.” She glares at Quill.

Quill raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t design her!”

“I’m glad,” Mantis announces brightly. “I’m sure regular breasts are much more comfortable.”

Darcy snickers. “Something like that,” she says. “Next up, Matt and Foggy are… Part of It???” She’s clearly having to work to not die of laughter about this.

Foggy, wearing a hideous black-and-orange suit covered in pumpkins, says in a silly voice, “I’m David Pumpkins! And I’m gonna scare the hell out of you!”

“And the skeleton is?” Skye calls obligingly.

“Part of it?” Matt says, sounding more hesitant.

“Good,” Skye says, sounding satisfied.

“Claire and Candace are awarded… How Dare You!” Darcy announces, affecting a funny voice.

Candace hops up and jogs to the front, and Claire saunters up behind her. “Macklin, you son of a bitch,” she says fondly to Candace. She’s wearing a black dress and a pillbox hat with a netted veil, and Candace is wearing an FBI jacket.

“I was framed for a crime I didn’t commit,” Candace announces, straight-faced. “Stealing the president’s rubies.”

“I’ve missed something,” announces Tony to nobody (and everybody) in particular.

“It’s Burt Macklin, FBI, and Janet Snakehole, a rich widow with a terrible secret,” says Clint, grinning.

Tony throws his hands up in the air. “Sure, yeah, whatever.”

“To Sif and Melinda I award Maximum Backstory, Minimal Effort,” Darcy announces.

Sif is wearing a horseback riding outfit, and Melinda a ridiculously sparkly figure skating outfit. “We already had these,” says Sif with a shrug. “It seemed easy enough.”

“Looking good, Mel,” calls Natasha mischievously.

“You too, Daphne,” Melinda responds, tossing her hair.

“Explain the story for the rest of us,” Linnea calls.

“She’s an Olympic figure skater, I’m an Olympic showjumper,” says Sif. “And we’re girlfriends. It’s a little scandalous.”

“The reporters have a field day, apparently,” adds Melinda, smirking. “She had a whole thing planned out.”

Sif doesn’t look the least bit bothered. “I’m a LARPer, it’s what I do.”

“Should’ve known you’d be the one to create a backstory for your Halloween costume,” says Volstagg. “I’m just surprised you didn’t incorporate your sword!”

“That you know of,” calls Sif, to scattered laughs.

“Our sexy pirates get the Shiver Me Timbers award, with the less-predictable amendment that goddamn you two are married,” Darcy declares, smirking. She knows she can get away with the tease here.

“Fuck off,” grumbles Rogue. She and Gambit are wearing coordinating pirate outfits, but she doesn’t look all that upset as they go up to take the certificate. Once all eyes are on them, Remy grabs her around the waist and dips her for a quick kiss, which earns him an indignant yelp and a slap on the ass once Rogue’s back on her feet.

“Plan on it later,” Darcy retorts smoothly, still smug. “Next is our award for… Beeeeeeeees?”

Maya bursts out laughing. “So glad you get the joke,” she says.

“I wouldn’t be worth my salt if I didn’t,” Darcy replies.

Maria chuckles. “It seemed appropriate.”

“I didn’t realize you could make insects into sexy costumes,” murmurs Laura to Cessily. “That seems unnecessary.”

“I guess you really can make anything sexy if you try,” says Cessily.

“Speaking of,” Darcy announces, “Christine is getting the award for What the Everloving Fuck?”

Christine, who is wearing a skintight pink minidress with buttons on it that say horrifying things like GOOD GIRL, BAD GIRL, and HOTNESS (with arrow keys), snickers and strides up to collect her award. “You can buy this monstrosity,” she announces. “I got it on sale, but it was originally $40.”

“Why, why is it that much?” Darcy exclaims, obviously horrified.

Shrugging, Christine adds, “It was on the cheaper end too. The ‘Sexy Shark Bite’ costume was $60. It was literally just a freaky grey dress with a shark mouth on the hip.”

“Sexy Halloween costumes are a terrifying industry,” Darcy declares. “The premade ones in particular. Our next award is sexy but, uh, a definitely homemade effort. Raina gets the award for Memeception.”

Adjusting her strategically-placed bandages, Raina rises from her seat and very slowly makes her way up to the front of the room so everyone can appreciate her. In addition to the bandages, she’s straightened her hair and scribbled on her face and other stretches of her exposed skin with kohl.

“Um?” squeaks Candace, who despite the internet-approved status of the _Parks_ costume she’s donned this year is hardly a memelord like a lot of the people here.

“Yes! She’s the Umm,” Darcy explains, as if this explains everything.

“Not just any Umm,” Raina adds, “the sexy, sexy, sexy Umm.”

“What the hell is the Umm?” asks Maria.

“I figured someone would ask this, actually,” Raina smirks. “Aida, would you reach into my bag and pull out the visual aid?”

Aida smirks, and within moments they’ve pulled a poster out of Raina’s purse. “The Umm,” they announce. It’s a poster for the summer’s _Mummy_ reboot, where the poor graphic design makes the first ‘m’ and the ‘y’ barely visible, thus rendering it a poster for _The Umm_.

“You see?” Raina chirps. “The Umm. The female Umm, which means the sexy, sexy, sexy Umm.”

“You...actually spent money on seeing that?” Maria asks dubiously. “ _Why?_ ”

“Oh, hell no, I didn’t,” Raina laughs. “This is based strictly on trailers and posters. It was just agreed that if someone was going to be the Umm for this party, it should probably be someone who’s actually got ancestry from the proper continent.” She smirks.

“Gotcha,” says Maria with a nod. “I can respect that.”

Raina bobs a fake curtsy before heading back to her seat - clearly pleased with herself - and Darcy moves on, declaring, “The Why? award goes to Loki.”

Loki sniffs, looking offended (as usual). “I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” he says.

“Understand what, exactly?” Darcy goads.

“If you have to ask, it’s above you,” he sneers, snatching his certificate and storming off.

Sif rolls her eyes. “Sorry,” she calls. “He’s...being himself.”

“Whatever, I’m used to it,” Darcy says casually. “Similarly, I award _myself_ the Because award.” She pauses and Ian hands her her (purposefully terrible, construction-paper) mask so she can put it on and model.

“Am I allowed to ask what the fuck you guys are dressed as _now_?” Tony asks impatiently.

“I’m the Babadook,” Darcy explains. “I’m a gay icon. And I’m definitely not fucking Pennywise.”

“The what? Like, that weird movie that came out a few years back? And that doesn’t explain him.” Tony points at Ian.

“Just like, except better because gayer,” Darcy chuckles, removing the mask again. “And Ian… receives the award for Best Bad Dog.”

In the audience, Skye guffaws. “Oh my god, I just got it,” she says. “That’s amazing.” She nudges Jemma and whispers, “He’s the guy from the Kidz Bop ‘Bring Me to Life.’ The RUFF guy.”

“Oh my god,” Jemma echoes. Ian is, in fact, wearing a Kidz Bop 4 t-shirt, dog ears, and a dogshaming sign that just reads “RUFF.”

Rogue, who’s had just enough to drink that she’s willing to acknowledge her teenage Evanescence phase in public, starts singing, “I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems, got to open my eyes to everything!” She grins expectantly at Ian.

Ian sighs and raps, “Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul, don’t let me die here. Ruff.”

Darcy leans over to kiss Ian on the cheek. “Good bad dog,” she coos.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian mumbles.

“Continuing the meme theme, Helen receives But That’s None of My Business,” Darcy announces.

Helen, wearing all-green and carrying a glass mug full of tea (that’s definitely been spiked), comes up to the front and smirks. “It seemed appropriate,” she says brightly.

“Our host, Tony, gets… You Tried,” Darcy says, holding up a certificate with a specially-drawn gold star on it.

Tony snorts. “How patronizing.” He takes the certificate though. “I’ll have you know, I make an excellent Einstein.”

“You tried,” Darcy repeats smugly. “Volstagg, on the other hand… You Didn’t Try At All.”

Volstagg, who is Santa as always, laughs. “Why fix what isn’t broken?” he asks cheerfully.

“Linnea gets the award for Effortless Sex Appeal,” Darcy continues with a smile.

“Why thank you,” Linnea replies brightly, blowing a kiss at Darcy as she comes for her award. She’s (premade but decent-quality) Jessica Rabbit, because it was easy, and she’s not quite got the same figure but she’s working it.

“Lorelei gets the award for You Succeeded And I’m Sorry You Had To Try,” Darcy says, nodding respectfully as Lorelei saunters up.

She’s wearing a thoroughly bedazzled green bathing suit and high heels, plus a floppy sun hat, monogrammed belt, and beige cloth around her hips. “I’m the aesthetically good version of Mera,” she says to the crowd, most of whom are confused (but appreciative). “Since her _Justice League_ costume is so atrocious, I felt it important to make her _Bombshells_ comic costume.”

If such a thing could be done respectfully, Raina whistles respectfully from the audience, grinning.

Darcy smirks as she says, “Our next award is for You Didn’t Have To Try, But You Still Didn’t Succeed, and goes to Fandral.”

Fandral pouts. He put a reasonable amount of work into his sexy Jamie-from- _Outlander_ costume. (Not that he’s seen _Outlander_ , but he heard some girls talking about it at work and did some googling.) “I happen to think I succeed very well!”

“It’s not actually a terrible-quality costume,” Darcy concedes, “but you don’t need to do a sexy version of a character who’s already basically from porn. It’s kind of overkill.”

“The best kind of kill,” Fandral points out, but he quickly realizes he’s not going to get anywhere and slinks off with his award.

“The award for Did You Try? is Hunter’s,” Darcy continues, well-prepared for more complaints.

Sure enough, he whines, “I did! I liked the book, alright?” He’s dressed as a reasonable facsimile of Hunter S. Thompson from _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_. “I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about Johnny Depp.”

“By which I hope you mean that you couldn’t give a rat’s arse about appreciating him, but also fuck him for being a shitbag,” Darcy says brightly. “I’m glad to hear you did try. You can also take the ‘it looks effortless’ thing as a compliment, I guess. As long as you think Johnny Depp is a shitbag.”

Hunter looks offended that she’s even asking. “Of _course._ He’s a bastard.”

“Then it’s a compliment,” Darcy declares. Hunter may be kind of a dumbass, but he’s at least smart about when other guys are truly reprehensible. “Hogun gets You Always Try! Also meant as a compliment.”

“Thank you,” Hogun says, with the faintest smile. He’s fashioned a Lego Batman suit out of cardboard, which seems to be hard to maneuver in, but he’s managed.

“And Heimdall gets the award for You Definitely Succeeded,” Darcy continues.

“Are you just dressed as a tower?” Skye calls.

Heimdall nods. “It seemed appropriate,” he says, and offers no further explanation.

“Bereet gets I Don’t Go There, But Cool,” Darcy says, grinning appreciatively. “I don’t actually know what your character’s name is but you’re an Overwatch… person, right?”

Bereet nods. “Mercy,” she explains. “The wings seemed like a fun challenge.”

“They totally turned out well,” Darcy promises.

Hogun nods respectfully at Bereet. “You look very good,” he says.

She grins. “Much appreciated!”

“T’Challa, this year, receives… Welcome to the Resistance,” Darcy announces grandly.

T’Challa chuckles. “Thank you,” he says. “Steve and his friends showed me the new _Star Wars_ and I grew quite fond of Finn, so I felt this was appropriate.” He’s wearing Finn’s Resistance outfit with Poe’s jacket.

“You pull it off very well,” Darcy declares. “Like, very. In the same canon our pal Robbie gets the award for…” She pauses dramatically. “There Has Been… An Attempting.”

Skye, Bobbi, Gabe, and a few others who get the joke start snickering. Robbie, looking vaguely perturbed, says, “Uh, thanks?” and strolls up to retrieve his certificate.

“It’s because you’re wearing a bathrobe, dude,” Skye says, not unkindly. “And it’s like that line in _Force Awakens_ when Snoke says ‘there has been...an awakening.’”

“Oh,” says Robbie. Then he shrugs. “I’m wearing a costume, anyway.”

“Next year, just be someone from _The Outsiders_ ,” Darcy suggests. “That’s pretty much what you usually wear. Plus then you could kiss a boy and make S.E. Hinton angry. That’s fun.”

Looking even more baffled, if that’s possible, Robbie nods slowly. “Uh, okay.”

“Gabe, on the other hand, just gets the night’s Best Costume award,” Darcy says.

“Aw,” Gabe exclaims, looking genuinely touched. “That’s so sweet, holy crap!”

“You earned it, buddy,” Darcy declares.

“I think I’m missing something?” Hunter says, sort of quietly, but loud enough for at least some people to hear him.

“He’s Cassian from _Rogue One_ , dumbass,” Bobbi murmurs, rolling her eyes. “And kicking ass.”

Chagrined, Hunter nods and then quickly looks over at Gabe. “Nice job, kid,” he says. “Don’t listen to me, I’m just an asshole.”

Gabe smiles good-naturedly. “It’s not the most obvious costume ever,” he says, shrugging. “Thanks, guys.”

Darcy sighs. “And our other Best Costume, with the addendum Yikes, goes to Aida,” she says. “Because, yes very nice - but also, it’s uncomfortably relevant and stuff.”

Aida rises, smirking knowingly. “That was rather the intention,” they say. They’re wearing the red dress and white bonnet of _The Handmaid’s Tale_ , clearly making a point.

Tony furrows his brow. “Isn’t that book about...women...being…?” He waves his hand vaguely in Aida’s direction. “Oppressed?” he finally asks, once it’s become obvious to everyone that he has neither seen nor read _The Handmaid’s Tale._ “I mean,” he adds unnecessarily, “because you’re not...a…?”

“By the standards of Gilead - the fictional society in which characters in _The Handmaid’s Tale_ live - I would be considered a woman regardless of my own self-definition,” Aida explains with a surprisingly patient (if patronizing) smile. “Much of the book centers on biological essentialism, i.e. defining people and their roles based on their bodies and the roles that were assigned them according to what an old-fashioned notion of how bodies necessitate gender.”

“Gotcha,” says Tony, nodding as if he’s actually listening (and he might be). “Sorry.”

“I’m comfortable enough in my life to be able to partake of the social commentary,” Aida remarks, “so it’s not too dire. The sympathy is appreciated, though.” They sort of doubt that it’s acted upon very often, in the real world, but it’s a start.

Tony grins, happy that he’s not in trouble. “Cool, cool.”

Darcy smiles, pleased by this example of someone having learned something important. “Next up is, for Misty, the following award,” she says. Then she pulls up her phone to play (as loudly as possible) a clip of Captain Holt from _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ exclaiming “Yas queen!”

Misty bursts out laughing. She’s dressed as Beyonce circa “Lemonade,” wearing a floofy yellow dress (custom-made with discount fabric) and carrying a baseball bat. “I’m pretty sure that’s a compliment, so I’ll take it,” she says.

“Oh, it’s so many compliments,” Darcy assures.

“I can’t take all the credit, though,” Misty says. “Colleen helped me make the dress.”

Colleen looks embarrassed and waves her off. “You did most of the work.”

“But it was your idea,” Misty counters.

“Yeah, well, you’re kickass like Beyonce. It made sense.”

“Gross,” Darcy laughs. “Darling Tegan gets the award for Happiest Coincidence.”

Tegan, who’s pretty much just wearing normal black clothes with a green line streaked down her cheek, shrugs cheerfully. “I’m Tegan Quin,” she explains. “It seemed fated.”

Fury nudges Irani. “Who’s that?” he hisses.

“One half of Tegan and Sara,” explains Irani with a chuckle. “Twin sisters who front a very popular lesbian band.”

“Oh.” Fury snorts. “Makes sense, then.”

“Hannah gets our award for Most Historically Accurate,” Darcy declares.

“Thanks!” Hannah chirps. She’s dressed as a World War II factory girl - not anyone particular, but sort of a composite of pictures she found.

“You’re always so dang wholesome,” Darcy chuckles.

“Thanks?”

“It’s a good thing,” Darcy promises. “You wear it well. And this transitions into our last award of the night, Colleen’s Most Historically Inaccurate.”

Collen laughs like she wasn’t expecting that. She’s just wearing a green dragon onesie, which looks very comfortable but not exactly detailed or difficult. “It’s dumb, but it’s comfy,” she explains.

“It’s cute,” Darcy says. “But, you know. Dragons didn’t exactly exist, and even if they did or do I doubt they wear fleece.”

“Nope,” Colleen says cheerfully. “But it works.”


	169. but his arms are angels by his side, you need not ask if they're open, just how wide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of Tony's Halloween party. A game of Spin the Bottle starts and is mostly played ironically.

“Hey,” Tony calls out to nobody in particular, “since this is a party, we should play Spin the Bottle!”

“Is this a middle school party?” Pepper asks, mostly directing the question toward Rhodey.

Rhodey snorts. “Allegedly it’s for adults,” he says with a shrug. “But as we all know, he didn’t get much further than middle school, emotionally. He’s probably not gonna shut up until at least some of us agree to play though.”

“God, does that mean we have to?” Pepper asks, sighing.

“Hey, it might be funny,” he says with a grin. “But you don’t have to.”

“Might as well,” she shrugs. “Maybe my spin will land on Bob and all I’ll have to do is get licked.” Since neither of the dogs has wanted to return to the dog room since they realized there were so many people to play with.

Eventually Tony manages to wheedle a decent amount of people (a few dozen) into playing. Most people look like they’re either there for laughs or because they don’t have anything better to do, and the majority of them get another drink from the bar before they sit down on the ground in a circle. But Tony hasn’t noticed. He grabs an empty vodka bottle and announces, “Okay, so how this is gonna work is, I’m number one. Rhodey here is two, Pep is three, and so on. Rhodey, write this down in your phone,” he instructs. “Then get up a random number generator so we can figure out who goes first.”

“Sure, Tony,” Rhodey says with a chuckle.

“Are you sure that’s the most efficient way to decide?” Aida asks, though they’re not expecting to actually be acknowledged.

Tony shrugs. “No, but I’ve had just enough whiskey that it sounds like a great idea.”

“It wasn’t,” Clint deadpans from where he’s sitting in the spectator area, in his best Ron Howard impression.

Rhodey gets everything all set up, then finally announces, “Sif’s up first!”

Sif, who seems to be treating this whole thing as a hilarious joke, is very confident as she spins the bottle. Up until the bottle points straight at Lorelei.

“Hello, darling,” Lorelei croons, waggling her fingers in a way that’s half wave, half come hither.

Sif grimaces. “Can I respin?” she pleads. “It’s just…” She trails off, unsure of how to explain “once we hatefucked in a pillow fort and it turned out she kind of wanted to date me, which is a big deal because she doesn’t date anyone, and it’s still weird” succinctly.

Rhodey glances at Tony. “Your call.”

Tony scoffs. “Nope. Bottle lands where it lands. Pucker up, buttercup.”

Sif sighs dramatically and goes over to Lorelei, leaning in and trying to keep it as quick and chaste as possible. Lorelei, of course, has other things in mind, and proceeds to slide a hand into Sif’s hair, pulling her close and showing little inclination toward letting go.

Sif pulls back just as soon as she can, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t have to _enjoy_ it quite so much,” she mutters. “I’d think you’d want to avoid this just as much as I do.”

“That’s because you think that everyone is burdened with the same shame you are,” Lorelei replies softly, but she’s smirking. “Go on, return to your ladylove. There are no sore feelings here.”

Looking severely embarrassed, Sif goes back over to sit next to Melinda. Melinda just smirks. “You alright?” she says fondly.

“Fine,” grunts Sif. “Just dying of embarrassment, but I’ll be alright.”

“Well, seems like we’re off to a hell of a start!” chimes in Tony cheerfully. “Next?”

“Bucky!”

Bucky’s spin lands on Trip, who grins cheerfully. “Sure. It’s been awhile,” he says, and that statement sounds like it has something sad behind it.

Bucky gives him a friendly, gentle kiss. “Good?” he asks, grinning back.

“Nice, yeah. Thanks.”

The next spinner is Sharon, who lands on Claire. “That good with you?” Sharon asks, scooting across the circle to Claire with a smirk.

“Sure,” Claire says with a laugh. “Could’ve turned out a lot worse for me.”

That makes Sharon laugh too, and she leans in to kiss Claire, fairly innocently. Claire hums. “Not bad, Carter.”

“I could’ve gone a little more intense, but that doesn’t seem sporting,” Sharon teases.

Claire glances at Candace and grins. “I mean, you’re not the possessive type.”

“Maybe one of hers is,” Candace replies, clearly joking.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Sharon says, moving back to her place in the circle between Sam and Natasha. “Are any of you guys gonna get weird?”

Bucky giggles and Sam says, completely straight-faced, “Yes, I will absolutely get weird about this kissing party game that all five of us are voluntarily taking part in.” Then he winks at her.

It’s Skye’s turn next, and when the bottle lands on Raina she makes a face like she’s not sure what to make of this. She and Raina are kind of friends, especially after the Kara thing, but Raina’s not the sort of person she’d consider for...this kind of thing. “So,” she says, tilting her head. “Uh, this is weird. No offense.”

Raina smiles with that practically-trademark fake innocence she likes to pull. “Don’t feel like you have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” she says, and she means it but also it’s one of those remarks that just lands strangely.

“No, I’m okay,” Skye says, smiling a little nervously. “Just not something I would’ve thought of. Not that you’re not hot, I just...shit. Sorry I suck.”

“You’re fine,” Raina assures. “Just get it over with, I won’t be bothered.” She smirks.

Skye kisses her a little more hesitantly than she usually kisses people, but it’s a little longer than a peck. “Alright,” she says with a smile, “that was nice. Thanks. Sorry I’m weird.”

“You’re charming,” Raina corrects. “Your girls are lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” Skye says. “Likewise…?” She looks a little uncertain, like she’s not sure this is the right thing to say.

Raina smirks and waves Skye back to her seat.

Aida has been watching that whole exchange with particular interest and amusement, and they barely notice when they’re passed the bottle, but Lorelei leans over and nudges them with a wicked little smile. “You’re up, dear,” she says, nodding.

“Oh,” Aida exclaims, spinning the bottle accordingly. It lands on Melinda, which is certainly one of the more interesting options, and they turn to smile at Melinda as sweetly as possible. “Well.”

Melinda smirks back. “I’m fine with this.”

So Aida moves toward Melinda, batting their eyelashes almost coyly, and leans in, definitely getting right in Melinda’s personal bubble. (They don’t know Melinda all that well, but Melinda is fascinating and the fact that Melinda is even playing this game is fascinating.)

Melinda tips her head forward to kiss Aida, gentle but firm. She lets it linger for a minute before saying, “Not the worst way to get better acquainted.”

“Certainly not,” Aida agrees.

Rhodey’s own number comes up next, and he laughs a little awkwardly before spinning. It turns out to be Colleen, who looks kind of startled. “Don’t worry,” Rhodey says, going over to kiss her cheek, “I know I’m not your type.”

Obviously relieved, she laughs. “Not really. No offense meant.”

“None taken.”

Tony looks irritated, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Sam!” Rhodey says, clearly relieved to have the attention off him.

Sam’s spin lands on Jemma, who immediately squeaks and turns bright red. “Oh!” she exclaims.

“You okay?” Sam asks with a playful grin. “I can do the cheek thing, if you’d prefer that.”

Jemma shakes her head very quickly, managing to murmur, “No, you can kiss me for real.”

Sam goes over to her, giving her a very gentle and affectionate, almost platonic, kiss. “There you go,” he says. “That alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” Jemma agrees, finally bringing herself to smile like a normal person. (It’s possible that she wasn’t expecting to actually have to kiss anyone, which is preposterous but there you have it.)

“Awww,” Bobbi croons, and Skye giggles and kisses Jemma on the cheek.

“You doing okay, honey?” she murmurs fondly. “Or were you hoping to get through the kissing game unkissed?”

“No, I’m alright,” Jemma says, and it almost sounds true. Instead of further elaborating she reaches for Skye’s hand, clearly drawing some calm from it. Skye squeezes it and reaches to pet Jemma’s hair.

Rhodey’s getting the next number ready when Mack, who’s lounging on a nearby chair and watching these shenanigans, suddenly says, “Oh. Hey, sweetie, how was your nap?”

A few people glance at the door to the room, where Hope Mackenzie is standing there. She’s wearing jeans, a red sweatshirt, and a brown bobbed wig. “It was good,” she says shyly, hurrying over to come stand by him. She knew there were a lot of people at this party, but faced with so many of them for real she’s feeling timid. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, we’re just playing a silly grownup game.” Mack smiles down at her. “We don’t have to stay if you wanna head home, though. It’s pretty late for you to be up, huh?”

Hope nods, looking sort of embarrassed. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I want Eevee.”

“Okay, we can do that.” Mack stands up and then looks over at Bruce. “You wanna head home with us, or stay?”

“No, I’ll come with.” Bruce gets up off his own chair and smiles over at Tony. “Thanks, this was fun.”

Tony looks disappointed, but before he can say anything Bob Barker (who had been napping with Autumn over in the corner of the room) trots over curiously to inspect Hope, tail waving.

“Oh!” Hope exclaims, grinning. “Can I pet him?” She glances over at the crowd of adults, not sure who she’s directing the question at but wanting to be polite.

“Yeah, go ahead,” says Rhodey. “He loves new people. His name’s Bob Barker.”

“Hi, Bob Barker!” Hope says, holding her hand out for the dog to sniff before going to pet him with a surprising calmness, starting behind his ears. “He’s nice.”

Autumn, too, wakes up and upon seeing that her nap companion has moved trots over to see what’s going on. “Don’t let her bother you too much,” Kara calls, smiling. “That’s Autumn.”

“She’s cute!” Hope squeals, alternating which dog she’s petting. She looks about two hundred percent more awake than when she came in the room. “Is Ajax here too? He’s a good dog.”

Audrey smiles. “He stayed home tonight, but I bet I could bring him over to play with you sometime soon,” she says.

“Okay!” Hope agrees, nodding. “Dad, can we get a dog?”

Mack pauses. “Let’s start with a mouse or a rat and see how it goes,” he says. “The apartment’s pretty small for a dog, but maybe when we move somewhere with a little more room.”

“Okay,” Hope says. “Thank you for letting me pet your dogs, Dad’s friends.”

“Of course,” says Rhodey. “Bob says thanks for the attention.”

“You’re welcome, Bob,” Hope says solemnly, but then she seems to have had her fill of the spotlight and reaches to tug on her dad’s hand expectantly.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Mack says with a grin. “Night, everybody. Don’t get into too much trouble without me around.”

“Hey, you weren’t managing to stop us from doing, don’t flatter yourself,” Bobbi calls, but she’s waving them off.

Once they’ve left, Rhodey gets back to it. “Elektra,” he says, raising an eyebrow. This’ll be interesting, no matter where the bottle lands.

Elektra seems very amused by the whole thing, especially when she spins on Kara. “I certainly can’t complain,” she says with a wink.

Kara runs a hand through her hair, slightly nervous, but then she squares her shoulders and returns the smile. “Have at,” she says.

Elektra leans in, reaching up to cup Kara’s cheek with her hand and pulling her closer. It’s a pretty chaste kiss, but she lets it linger for a moment.

And Kara, for her part, seems (surprisingly?) into it, letting her eyes flutter closed until the kiss breaks. “Not bad,” she murmurs with a smirk.

“I try,” teases Elektra, winking.

Misty is up next, and when she spins for Luke she bursts out laughing. “Shit, man,” she says. “You ready for this, Cage?”

Luke chuckles. “If _you_ are.”

Most people look sort of baffled, and after they kiss (during which they seem oddly casual, almost like they’d done this before) everyone is quiet for a minute and then Skye pipes up. “Not to be weird, but did you guys date or something? The, I dunno…” She waves her hand in their general direction. “Energy was weird.”

“Yeah, we did,” Misty says. “Forever ago. We were dumb kids.”

“Not for that long, either,” Luke adds, grinning. “We’re better as friends. Or fuckbuddies, at the time.”

Misty rolls her eyes as she resumes her seat. “It happens,” she smirks.

“Gotcha,” says Skye, looking satisfied.

Rhodey’s chuckling as he announces the next name. “Pep, you’re up.”

“Oh boy,” she says wryly, but she spins Trish, so it’s not as weird as it could be. Instead she just shrugs at the other woman and says, “Forgive me if I’m out of practice.”

“You’ll be fine,” Trish laughs, and she waves Pepper over so they can share a short kiss that manages to convey platonic fondness despite being not traditionally platonic. “See?”

“I see,” Pepper agrees, grinning. “Much obliged, or something like that.”

Foggy’s name gets called next, which he seems to find funny until the bottle stops spinning and lands...on Matt. “Um,” he squeaks.

Matt, of course, notices the discomfort in his voice immediately. “What?” he asks, grinning. “Is it Elektra?”

“No, Matthew,” Elektra says, smirking. “It’s you.”

Matt blanches. “Oh,” he says, sounding genuinely taken aback.

Foggy, too, looks panicked. “Respin?” he asks hopefully, scooting his hand towards the bottle.

“Nope,” says Tony, popping the P. “Not how this game works, Nelson. You can just give him a peck if you want, but you gotta kiss him.”

Foggy glances around like a trapped animal, then finally sighs. “Okay.” He leans in close to Matt, murmuring, “This okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Matt whispers, barely loud enough for anyone but Foggy to hear.

Then Foggy’s kissing him, and it’s _definitely_ more than a peck. Oblivious to the inappropriateness of this, Karen gasps and puts both of her hands over her mouth showily, with a proverbial “kid on Christmas” kind of joy. Kara, beside her, shakes her head, but playfully since she seems just as delighted.

When they finally break apart, both Foggy and Matt are breathing heavily. Foggy leans in to whisper something in Matt’s ear, Matt nods, and they both get up and leave the room in a hurry.

“Well,” Karen says, shrugging, “either they were gonna jump each other immediately or someone was gonna get all teen movie dramatic about it. I think this is the better option.”


	170. when your breaking point's all that you have a dream is a soft place to land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 5 of Tony's Halloween party. As the night winds down, the remaining guests find respite from the chaos.

“That didn’t work,” mutters Tony. After Matt and Foggy’s dramatic exit, Spin the Bottle kind of fizzled out and everybody retreated to their own groups.

Rhodey gives him a sympathetic smile. “Bob’s right there,” he says, pointing at the dog. “He’ll kiss you if you want.”

Tony laughs, and then looks surprised about that. “Hell, why not, it’s better than nothing. C’mere, buddy.” He snaps his fingers at Bob, who cheerfully ignores him.

“Bob,” calls Rhodey, “come on, come give Uncle Tony some attention.”

At that, Bob trots over and hops onto Tony’s lap, sniffing at Tony like he’s expecting treats. Tony scratches him behind the ears. “Y’know, I’m not much for dogs normally, but yours is a pretty good dog,” he says.

“Thanks,” says Rhodey with a fond eyeroll.

“Here,” Pepper says, coming over to hand Tony a couple of Bob’s little snacks. “So he doesn’t get disappointed. I’m sure your ear-scratches are wonderful, but.”

“So I’ve been told,” says Tony, obligingly offering Bob a treat. Bob takes it and gives Tony a few thank-you licks.

“See, and this is much more genuine than any spun bottle would be,” Pepper adds.

Tony shrugs. “You make a fair point.”

Soon after this, Autumn comes sniffing up, apparently wondering (once again) where Bob went, and Kara and Karen both follow with amused expressions. “I see this is the new cuddle corner,” Karen remarks wryly.

“Someone felt a little neglected,” Rhodey says.

“Yeah, your little beast is pretty needy, Rhode,” Tony adds quickly. “Got it all under control though.”

Kara and Karen exchange glances that suggest they know Tony is lying and then, in an act of goodwill, Kara offers, “I’m sure Autumn is very affectionate too, if you have more energy to spare.”

Tony is clearly trying to play it cool. “I mean, sure, whatever, that’d be fine.”

“You’ll have to invite her over,” Kara instructs. Not that this is the case with everyone, but Autumn doesn’t really know Tony all that well.

“Hey, hey, c’mere, Autumn,” calls Tony, offering the hand not occupied with petting Bob. “Got some treats for you.”

As predicted, Autumn does in fact go over, tail wagging. Treats are a powerful motivator, apparently. “I can’t get over how cute it is when her tail makes her cape go swooshing,” Karen remarks.

“It is adorable,” Rhodey agrees, grinning. “Hope you guys have been getting pictures. I took a bunch of the two of them, but still.”

“I think that’s part of the responsibility of a dog owner,” Kara says. “You have to be able to share at any given moment. Or with the entire internet, as the case may be. I swear this dog is seventy-five percent of my Instagram.”

“As she should be,” Pepper says.

“I think that’s what Instagram is for,” offers Rhodey. “Cute animals and stuff.”

“And hot girls,” chimes in Tony. “Present company included, no skeeziness meant.”

All of the women roll their eyes, and Kara mutters, “What _was_ meant?” but not loud enough that Tony is going to register it.

Rhodey snorts. “You do realize you can’t just say that and wallpaper over creepy shit you say, right?”

“I meant it as a compliment!”

“Here’s a tip,” Pepper says, because neither Karen nor Kara is inclined to. “It’s rarely a compliment to be called a ‘hot girl.’ I’m sure there are exceptions, but phrased that way it’s impersonal and more than a little bit diminishing.”

Tony pouts a little and doesn’t reply.

“Good try,” Rhodey murmurs to her.

“I keep thinking one of these days it will stick,” Pepper says dryly.

“You’re more patient than most of us,” Karen snarks, and she goes over to the bar. The dogs are frolicking again by now, so they’re clearly not leaving yet.

 

* * *

 

MJ’s chatting with Drax, Joey, Darcy, Peter, and Gwen when her phone beeps. She pulls it out and glances at it, and then smirks and says to everyone, “Gotta go, night, y’all.”

“Where are you going?” Drax asks, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Liz is just waiting for me outside.”

“ _Liz_?” Darcy asks, too loudly on purpose. “Ooh la la, spill. Who’s Liz?”

“My girlfriend, Liz,” says MJ, way too casually, grabbing her coat (it’s a little chilly out to be wearing just a tank top, even for a costume).

“Who what when where why and how,” Darcy exclaims, eyes wide. “Dude! Liz who, anyone I know?”

“Liz Allen. Bye!” chirps MJ, scampering off before anyone can stop her.

“Liz Allen?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, I knew her in high school! She was the captain of the decathlon team. Cool girl. I thought she moved though, her dad turned out to be stealing stuff at his job or something. It was a huge bummer.”

Gwen makes a sympathetic face, then says, “I remember that. Maybe she came back for college?”

“Either way, guess she can join the ‘crappy male authority figures’ club,” Carina smirks. “If MJ decides to bring her around. We shouldn’t push.”

“I mean, if you say so,” Darcy says, doing the vocal equivalent of dragging her feet. “But it’s super exciting. You think she means girlfriend like me saying Tegan’s kinda my girlfriend or like Laura and Cessily saying they’re girlfriends?”

“Wait, when did that happen?” Joey asks. “I mean, you and Tegan.”

Darcy shrugs. “Kinda been happening for a little while? Not a big deal.”

He shrugs back. “Okay, cool.”

Quill, who’s sort of been eavesdropping on their conversation, moves closer and looks extra sad. “That’s cool for her, I guess,” he says, clearly meaning MJ.

“Do not be sad!” Drax says. “There are two dogs over there who would be happy to give you affection, if you are craving it!” He points to where Bob and Autumn are frolicking.

Quill sighs. “I guess.” He mopes off in their direction.

“Did he really think he had a chance with MJ or is he just pouting?” Darcy asks musingly.

“He likes to believe he has a chance with every unattached woman,” Drax replies. “He is not a physically repulsive man, so I see why he thinks this.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “I guess you’re not wrong.”

 

* * *

 

Bobbi and Audrey are among the remaining guests off sort of dancing to Tony’s bad club music and Trip is playing pool with Akela and Elena in the other room, so for the first time tonight Jemma and Skye are alone. And still drinking, if just Mike’s, because it’s there and it’s free and it tastes good. This would be Jemma’s excuse if she was asked.

In reality, she’s sort of moping, and she has been for a good ten minutes. Skye notices and tilts her head. “You okay, Jem?”

“Yes,” Jemma sighs, but after a moment she sighs histrionically and adds, “It’s stupid.”

“What is it?” Skye asks. “It’s not stupid if it’s bugging you.”

Jemma squirms a little, but she mumbles, “Fitz was supposed to call today.”

“Oh.” Skye frowns. “And he didn’t, huh?”

“No,” Jemma says, shaking her head. “He was going to show me his costume. It’s a surprise.”

Skye sighs. “Wow. What a dick. I hope he had a super shitty time at whatever dumb party he went to and nobody complimented him.”

“I mean, he probably just got busy, and the time difference is so strange, and it’s silly of me to be upset, and…” Jemma interrupts herself with another, louder sigh.

“No it isn’t,” insists Skye. “He’s your best friend. If he says he’s gonna call, he should call. Or at least text you or something.”

“I’m sure whatever he’s got going is much more interesting than having a chat with me,” Jemma says. “That’s always how he’s been, sort of. He’s perfectly chummy when it suits him but the second there’s a new flight of fancy he can hardly make the time.” She rolls her eyes, then adds (like it’s supposed to mean something), “I bet he’s building a robot.”

Snorting, Skye rolls her eyes. “Well, I hope it breaks on him.” She pulls Jemma closer. “Sorry he sucks sometimes.”

“I’m used to it,” Jemma says sadly, and she drops her head on Skye’s shoulder.

Quill walks by just then and, seeing that Jemma’s clearly sad, stops and smiles awkwardly at her. “Hey,” he says, in a tone that’s probably meant to try and cheer her up, “looking good, sexy mouse.”

“Dude,” Skye says, glaring, “time and a place, okay?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He puts up his hands defensively and flees.

“Why are men?” Jemma asks quietly, clearly lamenting.

Skye snorts. “Who even knows. Hey, you wanna see if the quiet room’s open? Might be a better place to be at the moment.”

“Might be,” Jemma agrees. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Skye says, standing up carefully and helping Jemma up as well. “I wanna take care of you and stuff.”

They head off to the room that, last year, unofficially got designated as the room where people could go if they were overwhelmed or needed quiet or anything else that they wouldn’t get from the general party environment. Luckily, it’s empty. Skye lets Jemma go in first and then closes the door behind them. “You need anything?” she asks gently. “Backrub, maybe?”

“Backrub sounds nice,” Jemma says, sounding small. “I don’t wanna be selfish though.”

“You’re not,” Skye reassures her. “Here, c’mon, lay down.” Once Jemma does, she starts rubbing her back.

Jemma obliges and very quickly lets out an embarrassingly erotic moan as Skye works at a knot in her shoulder. “You’re good to me,” she says.

Skye leans down to kiss the spot before going back to work. “You deserve it, honey.”

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs. “You look so pretty tonight even though you’re wearing a vinyl Santa dress.”

Skye giggles. “Thank you. You too, but I mean, yours was automatically gonna be better-looking than mine.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Jemma retorts, giggling. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You look great,” Skye assures her. “Now, don’t move for a sec, you have a really bad knot over here.”

Once Jemma’s calmed some and seems happier, Skye sits her back up and says, “Hey, you wanna see how the San Fransokyo bunch is doing? Mom’s got a Halloween thing going on till pretty late so I promised I wouldn’t call her until tomorrow, but the rest of them should be around.”’

“Yes, please!” Jemma says. “That sounds fun. Honey’s been Instagramming and it looks delightful.”

Skye grins and pulls out her phone to start the call. Within a minute, the entire group is clustered around Tadashi’s phone, waving and all talking at once. “Guys, guys!” Tadashi says, waving them back and laughing. “They can’t hear any of you. Hey, Skye, how’re you guys?”

“We’re doing alright,” says Skye. “I’m Gretchen Weiners and Jem’s Karen Smith.” She moves the phone to show off both their outfits.

“I’m also very cold,” Jemma says wryly, “so now that you’ve got the whole effect my cardigan is going back on. But you all look wonderful! Let me see everything.”

“Well, I’m Glinda, obviously,” Honey says, twirling to show off her foofy pink dress and tightly-curled hair, “and Gogo’s Elphie because _of course_.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” says Gogo, rolling her eyes, but she really doesn’t look too bothered (even though the green facepaint had to have taken forever). Probably because she’s wearing all-black.

“I’m Boq!” chimes in Hiro, waving. He’s done up his face like a scarecrow.

“I kind of defaulted to Fiyero,” says Tadashi with a cheerful shrug.

“And I’m the Wizard!” says Wasabi, wearing a very stylish waistcoat and top hat.

“I’m the magic book!” Fred says, shoving his way so that he’s taking up the whole screen. He’s wearing a gigantic bulky piece of cardboard that’s been painted to look, well, booklike.

“Of course you are,” Jemma says, grinning. “There are no recreational drugs in _Wicked_. Well, the musical, anyway. The elixir isn’t a drug, it’s a potion that more closely resembles magical alcohol,” she defends before anyone can contradict her.

Fred shrugs. “Yeah, but I didn’t wanna be roofies. That’s not cool.”

“No, it certainly isn’t,” Honey agrees solemnly. “How’s your party going?”

“Winding down,” Jemma says.

Skye nods. “Yeah, but it’s still kind of crazy because it’s a Tony party and that’s just gonna happen, so y’know. We’re hiding out and thought we’d say hi!”

“Oh, look at Mochi!” says Hiro, holding up the cat. Mochi’s wearing a giant lion’s mane around his neck and a slightly reproachful expression.

“I’m surprised he’s still around,” snarks Gogo. “You had enough trouble getting him into that thing that I thought we’d never see him again.”

“At least you just dressed him as another cat this time,” Jemma remarks. “Maybe that helps.” She’s tipsy enough that this makes sense to her.

“I don’t think so,” Tadashi says doubtfully. “But he’d never scratch us, just glare.”

“Hey,” says Fred, “wasn’t there another one of you? Or two? Where did they go?”

Skye glances quickly at Jemma, and once she’s confident Jemma’s not going to burst into tears or anything she says, “Well, Trip’s out playing pool with some other friends and Fitz...got the chance to do a year of school in Poland so he moved out there.”

“Damn,” Gogo says. “So I guess we won’t be seeing him in December?”

“You’re still planning on coming, right?” Honey interrupts eagerly.

“We are, yes,” Jemma says, sounding surprisingly collected. “Fitz isn’t coming with, but Bobbi still probably is. She’s off dancing with her other girlfriend. They were our Regina and Cady, and Trip is Aaron Samuels. He has hair on tonight.” She giggles.

“Aw,” Tadashi says. “Sounds awesome. We’ll see pictures, right?”

Skye nods. “I took some earlier, just haven’t posted them anywhere yet.”

They chat for a little while longer before the door opens and Hope pokes her head in. “Hello,” she says timidly, “is there room for two more in here? We can go find somewhere else if…”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Jemma says. To the San Fransokyo crowd she adds, “We’ll talk more later?”

“Yeah, no worries,” says Tadashi. “See you guys later!”

There’s a round of “bye!”s before Skye hangs up. Then she smiles at Hope and Wanda, who’ve come in. “Hey,” she says. “Sorry, just thought I’d take advantage of the quiet to call some friends.”

“Fun!” Hope says. “There’s a dance contest going on out there, so…”

Skye groans. “Oh god. No wonder you guys came in.”

Wanda laughs nervously. “Yes, it was...not really something I wanted to be in the middle of.”

“Understandable,” Jemma says. “I’m guessing Tony instigated it.”

“Good guess,” says Wanda. “I suppose people are having fun, but it did not seem fun to me at all.”

“It’s getting pretty rowdy,” Hope sighs. “A little too much alcohol, etcetera. What about you guys? Why are you hiding out? I mean, if that’s okay to ask.”

Skye glances at Jemma. “Is it okay if I…?”

“Yes,” Jemma says. “It’s fine, I don’t mind these two knowing.” She smiles at Hope and Wanda.

“So, basically, Fitz was supposed to call her sometime today and like, catch up and show off his Halloween costume and shit, but he never did,” explains Skye. “And he hasn’t texted to explain or anything either.”

Wanda frowns. “That’s inconsiderate. I know sometimes boys can act like that, but that’s not an excuse.”

“It’s possible he just got busy,” Jemma says, but she sounds doubtful. “It just upset me. Halloween has typically been rather a _thing_ for us.”

“That makes sense,” says Wanda, nodding. “But even so, he should have told you something. It’s possible he might be able to fix this, but if he continues to be this rude, you don’t owe him anything.”

Jemma just looks mopey at that, even though she knows Wanda’s right, so Skye quickly changes the subject. “Hey, speaking of boys, what’s up with your brother and that blonde girl? The one he was texting?”

Wanda shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s not really interested in having a relationship or casual sex with anyone, but he seems to like talking to her. She’s nice, from what I can tell.”

“And apparently her dog might be the actual best dog in the world,” Hope adds. “He’s like, the biggest bulldog ever or something.”

Skye perks up. “Sounds awesome.”

“We probably would have made friends with her anyway,” says Wanda. “Her family sounds...very odd, from what Pietro has said. Her sister and brother-in-law run the business and don’t like talking to outsiders very much. And two of their employees also live with them and they call them cousins? Pietro says Crystal says one of them is Chinese and one is black. I suppose that is possible, but it’s confusing.”

“Huh,” Jemma says. “Outsiders? That makes it sound very Shakespearean, but somehow I doubt there’s any great comedy _or_ tragedy playing out at a shop that sells healing crystals.” She pauses and giggles. “That’s funny, that they sell crystals and her name is Crystal.” This wouldn’t be funny if there wasn’t alcohol, but there has been, so it’s funny.

Wanda snorts. “Yes, it seems they all have odd names. Her sister is Medusa, I think? And that’s not even her full name, it was something longer and even more ridiculous.”

“Yikes,” says Skye, eyes wide. “Well, tell her she can come hang out with us and bring her dog if she wants.”

“I’ll tell him to tell her,” nods Wanda.

“Anyway,” Skye says. “Have you guys heard about the movie coming up that’s a romance with a mute girl and a fish man? It sounds awesome!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. We unexpectedly really liked _Spider-Man: Homecoming_ so we have decided that MJ is Zendaya now and also Liz is here. 
> 
> 2\. _Inhumans_ on the other hand is bad, but Crystal and Lockjaw and also Gorgon are not bad. They have earned a rescue.


	171. a heart I swear I'd recognize is made out of my own devices, could I be wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected newcomers arrive in Thor, Loki, and Sif's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER WARNING for _Thor Ragnarok_ , specifically the identity of Hela.

Loki’s having lunch with his brother (really, _really_ not his idea, but Thor’s insatiable when he gets what he thinks is a great idea) and half-listening to him ramble on about his stupid dog. Apparently the dog has learned to do a variety of tricks. How exciting.

Then he spots _her._

She’s tall and dark-haired, with cheekbones that honestly rival his own and a regal bearing. She’s wearing something that’s skin-tight and black and has a few too many holes in it for it to be accidental.

She’s _intoxicating._

“Thor,” he croaks, “do you see that exquisite creature over there?”

Thor, who he’s apparently interrupted, frowns and asks, “What?”

Loki nods at the woman. Thor will have to turn around to see her. “There.”

Thor glances over his shoulder. “The woman in black? I see her, I suppose. Why?”

“She’s beautiful,” Loki says, his voice tinged with wonder. “I’ve never seen her here before.”

Thor chuckles. “Brother, this is a shopping establishment. It’s hardly surprising that you’d see someone new there.”

Loki waves him away impatiently. “Do you think she works here?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Why don’t you go over and ask her?” Thor’s eyes are twinkling.

“You mock my pain.” Loki turns a wounded gaze on his brother. Thor could never understand; women flocked to him, they always had. Loki had not been so fortunate.

“I mock nothing,” says Thor. “I am merely pointing out that if you want to speak to this mysterious woman, you’d do better to _speak_ to her rather than staring like a child.”

Pouting, Loki takes a pointedly loud drink. “Maybe I will.”

“Oh look, she’s going into Sephora,” Thor says, pointing. “Perhaps I could talk to Barnes, he might be able to tell me something about her.”

“No!” yelps Loki. The idea of involving one of Thor’s friends is deeply humiliating. “I’ll figure it out myself,” he adds quickly, standing up. “Thank you for a most...diverting afternoon, brother.”

“And you, Loki,” says Thor, grabbing his tray as he stands as well. “Good luck with your lady love.” He winks and leaves.

Loki rolls his eyes and then glances at Sephora. After he’s sure Thor has gone, he sidles over towards it and peers inside. The woman seems to be talking to the manager, who then takes her through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. Ah, she must be a new hire. He’ll have time to formulate the perfect plan to woo her, then. He heads for the escalator to go back to work downstairs, a spring in his step.

 

* * *

 

Thor and Jane are coming for dinner, and he prays his brother won’t mention the woman to either of his parents. Father would only scoff, and Mother...he might want to tell Mother later, to ask for her help, but not in front of the others.

Fortunately, Thor seems to enjoy telling stories about the damn dog too much to bother about Loki’s problems. He’s in the middle of yet another one of them when there’s an insistent knock at the front door.

Immediately Frigga frowns and glances toward the front of the house. “What’s happened to the butler?” she asks softly. Normally Friday night dinners - if they occur - are something of a sacred event, and said butler has instructions not to disturb the family unless it’s an emergency. (That’s a bit spoiled, Frigga knows, but she’s not too proud to take advantage of the family’s wealth in order to ensure the family’s quality time.)

But before anyone can answer, a woman comes striding into the room with a wry smile, long hair streaming behind her dramatically.

Loki’s mouth falls open a bit, but no sound comes out. His brain also stops, except for a high-pitched shrieking. It’s the woman from the mall. What could she _possibly_ be doing here, at his parents’ house?

“Hello, Father,” she says (more like drawls, not lazily but seductively if such a word could be applied to that particular sentence).

“Uh?” Jane murmurs, nudging Thor.

Thor is glancing frantically between the woman and Odin. “Father?” he asks, sounding almost small and confused. “Who is this woman? Why is she calling you Father?”

Odin looks stricken. “Hela,” he says after a moment. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to rejoin the family,” the woman apparently called Hela says, and waving a hand she quickly adds, “The parole officers were much more enthusiastic about my chances if I was surrounded by noble citizens.”

“ _Family?_ ” sputters Loki. His heart feels as if it might burst and he’s suddenly cold all over.

Thor, taking Loki’s outburst as equal outrage (and not the panicked confusion of someone whose erotic fantasies have been suddenly drowned by the cruel tidal wave of fate), chimes in, “Father, you must explain yourself! You told us about Angela, and I welcomed her as my sister, but this is...an, an outrage!”

“Yes,” Frigga says, sounding much more displeased than usually she allows herself to in front of company (or, for that matter, her children). “Do explain yourself, dear.” It’s obvious that “dear” is meant with absolutely no affection.

“Hela is...she’s my daughter,” Odin says after a moment. “Her mother and I weren’t together long, and she didn’t wish for me to be part of Hela’s life. I kept my distance and paid for her schooling. I thought it was understood-” here he pauses to narrow his eye at Hela “-that we were to have minimal contact, as per the wishes of her and her mother.”

Hela rolls her eyes dramatically. “I’m a grown woman, and my mother’s wishes are no longer my own, nor do they have bearing on me,” she says. “Besides, she’s out of the country now, and my passport is technically suspended.”

Odin sighs in a long-suffering way. “What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“It was only a petty misdemeanor,” Hela says, as if this was the result of a crime _against_ her instead of, presumably, _committed_ by her. “I convinced them that I would be able to turn over the proverbial new leaf, but they insisted on a certain measure of supervision.” She shrugs. “I assumed I would be more comfortable with my dear father than in some godsforsaken criminal halfway house.”

Loki makes a croaking noise.

“You must be Loki,” Hela continues, turning to fix him with a smile. “Father has mentioned you, but I see now he must only have told part of the story. It’s good to meet you, brother.” Whether or not it’s actually good or she’s being sarcastic is unclear.

Either way, Loki makes another incoherent noise.

Thor still looks angry. “You lied to us,” he says to Odin. “Why didn’t you tell us we had another sister? Keeping her from us was worse than admitting to your youthful indiscretions!”

Odin holds up a hand for silence. “We have much to discuss at a later time,” he says, in a way that means the subject is closed. “For now, I think it is best to be nothing less than welcoming to your sister. Hela, please take a seat. We were almost finished eating, but you are welcome to what’s left.”

“And you must be Thor,” Hela says brightly, nodding to her other brother before starting to make herself a plate of the leftovers. “I do hope my arrival hasn’t caused you any difficulties.” It’s also possible she hopes exactly the opposite.

Thor, still fuming, manages to say, “Hello...Hela, was it?”

“It was and is,” Hela agrees. It’s starting to become apparent that her tone is not a particularly reliable indicator of her mood, given that most of what she says just seems smug. “And who is this with you, dear brother? You regard her intimately, I think.”

Thor rests his hand on Jane’s arm, both protective and a little possessive. “This is my fiancee, Jane,” he says, a note of warmth creeping into his voice. “Jane is studying to be an astrophysicist.”

“How utterly thrilling,” Hela exclaims, smiling more with her mouth than her eyes. “That must be such a complex subject.”

“Yes,” Jane says shortly. “It’s very rewarding, though.”

“What does one _do_ as an astrophysicist?” Hela asks. “I imagine it’s more intricate than identifying constellations or the like.”

“It is,” Jane says, and she looks about to continue when Frigga clears her throat.

“Oh, dear,” she murmurs. “It’s getting late, and I know you mentioned you needed to be in bed early, Thor. It would be rude to keep you late.”

Thor blinks, and then says, “Ah, yes, you’re right, Mother. It is about time we take our leave. Father,” he adds with a stiff nod. “Very...nice to meet you, sister,” he adds stiffly, before standing up and offering his hand to Jane. “Will I have the pleasure of your company again soon?”

“Oh, I suspect so,” Hela says. “It seems we work in the same building.” She doesn’t elaborate on how she knows this.

“Do we?” Thor replies. “Then I expect I’ll see you soon. Good night, all.” He and Jane quickly leave.

After a moment of truly awkward silence, Loki manages to whimper, “I’m going to bed!” and flees.

 

* * *

 

“-and then she comes into the room and says ‘Hello, Father’. The same woman from the mall!”

There’s a round of uproarious laughter all around the table. “No,” giggles Volstagg. “You’re not serious!”

“I am!” says Thor, eyes bright. He’s feeling a bit better about Hela’s existence, though he still hasn’t entirely forgiven his father. The opportunity to tease his brother at one of Volstagg’s family dinners is too amusing. “Loki looked as if he might perish on the spot!”

“If it was anyone else I might have felt bad for him,” Jane interjects wryly. “But it seemed like strangely poetic justice somehow.”

Sif is laughing so hard tears are starting to roll down her cheeks. “My god,” she gasps, “I can imagine his face!”

“So you have two sisters?” Hogun asks. He’s not laughing, but he is smiling, which is close enough. “Angela and now this Hela?”

“Yes.” Thor nods, looking a bit more serious. “I must have a serious talk with Father about it, since he did betray our trust by not telling us about her, but in the meantime, she is my sister as well as Loki’s sister and we must make the best of it.”

“It’s like _Star Wars_!” says eleven-year-old Alaric with a giggle. “Like Luke and Leia!”

“Luckily it hadn’t gotten even that far for Loki,” Thor says, grinning at the boy. “But I imagine he’s feeling quite similarly to Luke, yes.”

“I don’t understand,” Hildy pipes up. She’s only five and sometimes loses track of the stories. “Why is it funny that Uncle Loki liked her? I like my sister and my sister likes me.”

“Different kind of like, Hildy,” says her other brother Leif (nine). “Like how Rapunzel and Flynn like each other.”

Hildy makes a horrified face and then sticks out her tongue with a gagging noise. “Ewwww!”

There’s another round of laughter at this, and then Flosi announces, “I like someone too. Her name is Val and she’s my soccer team’s new coach, and she’s the coolest person I’ve ever met, ever.”

“Oh really?” Volstagg’s eyes gleam mischievously. “Cooler than your dad?”

“Yes,” Flosi says. “You’re cool but she’s cooler. She knows everything about soccer and she wears white eyeliner and her car is dark blue like space and she’s really pretty.”

Sif raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she asks, and she’s not laughing anymore. “What else does she look like?”

“I have a picture!” Flosi exclaims. “It’s on my phone. Can I show everyone?” She has to ask permission of her parents since usually dinnertime is a no-phones time.

“Go ahead,” Gudrun says fondly. “This is a good reason.”

Eagerly, then, Flosi pulls out her phone and waves it in everyone’s faces. Her lock screen is currently a picture of her with this new coach, both grinning. “See? We were all taking pictures with her because she’s so much cooler than our old coach and we wanted her to feel welcome.”

Sif looks over at the picture and then turns sort of pale and says, “Er, I’ll be...right back,” and then quickly runs out of the room.

Melinda, who’s sitting next to her, tilts her head. “Not sure what’s up with that,” she says. “I’ll check on her.”

As it turns out, Sif’s run all the way out to the front porch, where she seems to be having some kind of personal crisis. “What’s wrong?” Melinda asks. She puts a hand on Sif’s back. “Did you know that woman or something?”

Sif manages to collect herself enough to reply, “We, ah, we were...well…”

“Oh,” says Melinda. “Didn’t end well, huh?”

“No,” Sif says, taking a deep breath, “it actually ended fine. Mutually. Val was...we were in high school together, she was a year ahead of me, and she was basically...you know how I’ve told you I was the one who could have any girl I wanted in college?”

“Yeah,” replies Melinda, amused now that she knows Sif’s not really upset.

“That was Val in high school. She was a legend - captain of the girls’ soccer team, the perfect butch, aggressively bisexual, only dated athletes. My god, she was-” Sif laughs as if to herself. “I knew a lot of girls who cried themselves to sleep because she’d never look twice at them. Anyway, we were off-and-on for about a year, pretty casual, and stopped dating halfway through her senior year because she knew she’d be going to Stanford on scholarship and it was just easier. But we were still good friends. And then...Jesus, it was awful, she had a terrible accident and tore up her ACL right before graduation. She was so humiliated, even though we would’ve all supported her, I think she didn’t even go to graduation. Last I heard, she went to college across the country to try and find a place that wouldn’t know her as Former Soccer Star Val.”

Melinda raises an eyebrow. “Wow. And the storming out of dinner was…?”

Sif shrugs, looking sheepish. “I hadn’t thought about her in awhile and I wasn’t expecting her to still be hot, I suppose. Plus I know the boys’ll recognize her and give me shit.”

Melinda smirks and says, “Hell, _I’ll_ give you shit. But I don’t blame you, she’s ridiculously hot.”

 

* * *

 

The next day is perfectly ordinary for Sif, until she’s going to the food court for lunch and she sees Thor sitting with someone very familiar.

She’s trying to slink away when Thor spots her and yells, “Sif! Sif, look who I found!”

Sighing, Sif goes to sit down with them. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to Val - it’s just that after so long, she’s starting to feel more like one of those girls who felt like they didn’t have a chance with Val. Which is really _not_ a thing she’s supposed to be feeling while she’s dating Melinda.

“See, Val, it’s like I was telling you,” Thor is saying animatedly. “Sif works at Big 5 along with her girlfriend Melinda. Is Melinda working today, Sif?”

“Yeah, she’s grabbing food,” says Sif, fidgeting with her straw. Then she adds shyly, “Hey, Val.”

“Hey, Sif,” Val replies, smiling in a way that’s surprisingly not at all smirking. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yes,” agrees Sif. “What’re you doing back here after so long?” She keeps her tone friendly and curious, not wanting the question to come off as accusing.

“Work,” Val says, shrugging. “You heard about the coaching gig, and I somehow wound up at the Disney Store with this dork as my manager, too.” She rolls her eyes at Thor, somewhat affectionately.

Thor beams. “She’s doing great so far,” he says. “I’ve been telling them to hire more women and they’re listening to me now.”

“My hero,” says Sif with a grin. “Oh, there’s Mel.” She waves her girlfriend over. “And how about _you_?” she asks, trying not to sound too prodding. “You were quite the stud in high school. Got anyone now?”

“Not at the moment,” Val shrugs.

Melinda sits down next to Sif and says, “Hey. You must be Val. Sif’s told me a lot.” She smirks and raises an eyebrow.

“Only good things, I hope,” Val replies smoothly.

“Very much,” says Melinda, and gives Val an unmistakable once-over. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“It’s mutual,” Val agrees after a moment, grinning.

Sif’s eyes are huge, like she can’t quite believe this is reality and not some weird fantasy she’s dreamed up. Thor is eating much too casually, trying to hide his giant grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were given a gift. We will not abuse it.


	172. then a spark from a star shooting too close, they both smiled, "what a day to explode"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and Melinda invite Val out for dinner. The rest of the Applebee's cares too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's installment is brought to you by the letters H for "horny for Valkyrie" and I for "Inhumans is a cult!"

“So,” Sif says, as they wait for their drinks, “most of us end up hanging out here more often than we should. It’s cheap, and... _things_ seem to happen here more often than not.”

Melinda snorts. “That’s one way of putting it. Another is that this place is kind of a drama magnet,” she says, smirking across the table at Val.

Val glances around the Applebee's with a little shrug. “It’s a lot of people who see each other too often mixed with alcohol,” she says. “I’m not really surprised.”

“True,” Sif replies with a laugh. “So how was your first week?”

“Could have been worse,” Val says. “I don’t hate being managed by an ex-footballer who’s younger than me as much as I would have thought. He grew up okay, Thor did.”

Sif smiles proudly. “Damn right. I won’t take all the credit, but I did kick his ass whenever he got too dudebro-y. The first couple years of college were rough, but he’s turned out pretty decent.”

“I hear you were all kinds of wild in high school,” Melinda chimes in. “Sif said something about girls crying themselves to sleep over you?”

“Oh god,” mutters Sif, rolling her eyes.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Val replies, in a smug way that basically confirms it anyway. “I had a reputation, but I didn’t go out of my way to be an asshole. I just had a type.”

“Do you still?” Melinda asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Kind of,” Val says. “It’s a little harder to only date fellow athletes once you’re an adult and most people don’t play a sport anymore, to say nothing of the fact that I’m not technically an athlete in the same way anymore either.”

Melinda nods. “Makes sense.” She nudges Sif, not at all subtly.

Sif opens her mouth to say something, but Hunter comes over with their drinks. “Here you are,” he says, passing them out. “First one’s on the house.” He winks at Val.

Of course, this makes Val roll her eyes. “Friend of yours?” she asks the other two.

“Not exactly,” Melinda says, eyeing Hunter warily.

Sif snorts and says, “She’s not really your type, is she, Hunter?”

Hunter looks mildly offended and shrugs. “I’m trying to branch out. What’s _your_ name?” he adds, glancing at Val. “I’m Lance.”

“What I meant,” Sif says, “is that you’re not _her_ type.”

“I’m Val, and no offense, but I’m not really into white guys anymore,” Val says sweetly.

Hunter scowls. “Alright,” he sighs. “Well, first drink’s on the house anyway.” Then he retreats, probably to sulk.

Sif is laughing. “I’ve missed your snark.”

“Aw, thanks,” Val replies, batting her eyelashes. “ _Some_ things don’t change, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh look,” says Skye, nodding over at the booth Sif, Melinda and Val are sitting at. “That hot new girl is here.”

Immediately Jemma looks up from her menu with wide eyes. “She certainly is,” she agrees. “I can hardly believe that Val of all people wound up here. I was too young to actually overlap with her in school, but she was an absolute _legend_.” She looks a little wistful (she would have been one of the crying-to-sleep girls in other circumstances).

Skye snickers. “You’re cute,” she says, grabbing Jemma’s hand to squeeze it. “I’d suggest we get to know her better, but I don’t wanna sound greedy.”

“Seconded on the cute thing,” Bobbi remarks fondly, “but I think even if you were being greedy, Sif and Mel got there first.” She watches the three women interact for a moment - all of them seem genuinely happy, and while she can’t say for Val, and Sif smiles easily, it’s a pretty good clue if someone can actually make Melinda smile like that.

“It makes sense,” Jemma says solemnly. “They’re _exactly_ her type. According to the stories.”

“What stories were these?” Trip asks. “I’m not clued into the rumor mill like y’all.” He’s grinning, so he’s not actually mad.

“Oh, it’s just that when we were in high school, when _she_ was in high school, Val that is, she was this championship soccer star who absolutely only dated other athletes,” Jemma explains. “Mostly girls. The queer scene is a lot smaller when you’re younger, you know, so even though we weren’t in school at the same time, exactly, I heard all the stories about Val. She broke a few hearts, but not cruelly.”

“I believe it,” Bobbi says, smirking.

“Gotcha,” Trip says. “Then, yeah, makes sense she’d be hanging out with those two now.”

“Too bad,” Skye adds cheerfully. “No way I could pass for an athlete. I guess I’ll just have to make do with you two.” She leans over to kiss Jemma’s cheek to make it clear she doesn’t actually mind this.

Jemma huffs, but she’s not really upset and the smirk she can’t hide proves this. “Still, it doesn’t hurt to stare,” she says lightly.

“Damn straight,” Bobbi remarks. Her eyes haven’t drifted. “And if worst comes to worst we can always pull a Stark and organize a Spin the Bottle game.”

 

* * *

 

“So how long have you two been _you two_?” Val asks Sif and Melinda, raising an eyebrow.

“Two years,” Sif says, smirking proudly over at Melinda. “Halloween 2015. I’m not proud of it, but I was being a damn coward about her for a long time.”

“It was cute,” Melinda says, tossing her head.

“Do tell,” Val presses, taking a swig of her beer.

Sif shakes her head, laughing in embarrassment. “It’s ridiculous. We worked together and I always liked her, and we hung out sometimes, but I didn’t want to make things too weird. Finally, I got drunk at a Halloween party and said something stupid about how she’d look good in or out of any costume, and then she kissed me.”

“There were multiple people from the damn mall trying to date me.” Melinda rolls her eyes. “None of them were bad, but she was the only one I cared about.” She bumps her shoulder fondly against Sif’s.

“Shit, when did you turn sentimental?” Val asks Sif, clearly teasing.

Sif shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “I’m honestly not sure. Mel’s just...special.”

Melinda smiles at her. “You too,” she murmurs.

“Shit,” Val repeats, laughing. “You two are sort of nasty.”

“Thanks,” Sif says, also laughing. “I won’t say the bullshit line about how you’ll understand when you find someone special, but that’s how it happened for me, anyway.”

Val smiles, mostly soft. “I guess it makes sense,” she says. “It’s impressive, though. You weren’t exactly me, but you played around back in the day. I don’t know how you were, though,” she adds, nodding at Melinda.

Melinda snorts and replies, “I’ve had my fair share of relationships. Not anywhere close to you two, though.” She pauses a second before adding, “Luckily, I only run into a couple of my exes around here, and we’re on good terms.”

Sif looks embarrassed and says quickly, “Yes, er, well. Do you still ride?” She directs this question at Val, like she’s trying to distract her.

“I do, yeah,” Val says, nodding. “Solveig passed a couple years ago, but I kept her youngest foal, Signy. She’s a Warmblood cross. Same gray like her mom, though.”

“Ooh.” Sif perks up. “Does she jump well?”

“You look like you’re getting ideas,” Melinda teases. “Remember, I’ve only been riding that time you rented those horses for us on the beach.”

Sif looks deceptively innocent. “I was just making conversation.”

“I don’t really show her, but I have her do practice jumps sometimes and she seems to like that,” Val says. “I just got her moved into our old barn, if you want to come see her some time.”

“If it’s not imposing, I really would,” Sif says eagerly. “I miss it. Like Mel said, I took her out on a couple of rented horses once, but it wasn’t the same at all.”

“You two have fun,” Melinda says mildly. “I’ll enjoy the view from the ground.” She’s smirking.

 

* * *

 

Lorelei and Raina and Aida are already at the table in the corner when the twins arrive with someone new in tow. “Hello!” Wanda chirps, smiling. “We’ve brought our new friend Crystal with us. She’s the one with the big friendly bulldog.”

“And the dysfunctional family,” Pietro adds.

Crystal makes a face. “They’re not… totally that.”

“They’re not the most functional, from what Pietro’s told me,” Wanda says, almost apologetically. “But it’s alright! You can hang out with us and our friends Lorelei, Raina, and Aida. They are like our surrogate older siblings. I’m sure they’d be happy to be yours too.”

“I’d like that,” Crystal agrees, smiling. “Hello, Lorelei, Raina, and Aida.” She nods to each of them in turn. “Do you also work at the mall?”

“At Victoria’s Secret,” Lorelei says. This makes Crystal’s eyes go wide (she’s never been to anywhere even half that sexy).

“I work at the weed store,” Raina chuckles. “We mostly sell marijuana-adjacent paraphernalia, but everyone knows it’s the weed store.” Crystal still looks surprised (drugs aren’t completely unknown to her, but they’re definitely not that casual of a subject in her family).

“I’m at Candy Tyme,” Aida explains. This also shocks Crystal (she doesn’t really have easy access to processed sugar).

Pietro glances at Crystal, looking concerned. “Do you want to sit down?” he asks. “You look startled.”

“Sitting sounds nice,” Crystal says, obviously relieved. “But wow, you’re all so… sophisticated and pretty. I’m pretty sure my sister would lose it if she knew I was hanging out with you.”

“Oh dear,” Raina says wryly, glancing down at her own hands. “Because…”

“You’re so _worldly_ ,” Crystal enthuses. “You have exciting jobs and you’re so… you’re beautiful! You dress so well.” She’s clearly a little starstruck.

“Her family is sort of isolated,” Wanda explains quickly, since Raina is looking more and more alarmed. “They don’t interact with anyone outside their family group much. Crystal, you said some of your cousins aren’t your biological cousins but you call them your cousins anyway?”

“Yeah,” Crystal admits. “They’ve just kind of always been there. I don’t really know where they came from or why they’re here but… Gorgon is nice, at least. I like him a lot.”

“ _Gorgon_?” Lorelei repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Crystal just shrugs. “It probably sounds stranger than it is.”

“It sounds very strange,” Pietro says sympathetically. “You see why I invited her,” he adds to the rest of the table. “I thought she needed more friends.”

“Indeed,” Aida says. “We’re glad to have you, Crystal. I understand needing to separate yourself from a bad situation.” They smile sweetly and surprisingly sincerely.

“It’s not _bad_ , exactly,” Crystal demurs, but she’s wrinkling her nose like she knows she’s kind of lying about this. In an effort to turn the conversation away from her own familial and social failings (and their abundance), she says to Aida, “You’re… Wanda and Pietro said you were, ah…”

“Nonbinary,” Aida supplies, still smiling. “Genderqueer, if you prefer.”

“Oh, cool,” Crystal says, laughing nervously. “It’s, um, they and them, for you? I just want to know what’s right to say, so I’m not being insensitive.”

“They and them,” Aida agrees. “You don’t need to sound so anxious about me. I promise I only bite if I’m asked to.”

Of course, that makes the laughter even louder and more nervous, and Crystal shakes her head. “Sorry, I just, I… it’s new,” she apologizes. “I don’t mean to be weird.”

“Understood,” Aida says. “You’re doing just fine.” They make a mental note to keep the vague innuendos and teasing to a minimum until Crystal is more comfortable in the group.

After they’ve all looked at the menu, Wanda asks Raina, a little shyly, “So...is that new girl that Lorelei wanted to spy on here? The one Sif used to date?”

Raina nods, smirking. “With Sif, even,” she says. “And Melinda. The situation is getting more and more interesting, from the looks of it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lorelei rolls her eyes. “It’s just been years since I saw Val. I want to see how she’s doing. She had quite the tragedy in high school.”

“You could just look her up on Facebook if you wanted to see how she’s doing,” Aida points out wryly. “But you don’t need to justify yourself to us. We’re happy to play along.”

Hunter ambles over to the table, a smile pasted on his face. “How’re you all doing tonight?” he asks. He seems to be largely talking to Lorelei. “Can I interest you in a drink?”

“Sure thing, dear,” Lorelei coos, smirking. “You know what I like, and I’m sure you remember Raina’s order too? Aida, what do you feel like tonight?”

“Red wine,” Aida says smoothly. “Whatever you recommend.”

“Wanda? Pietro? Crystal?” Lorelei prompts.

“Um,” Crystal says. “Strawberry lemonade?”

“Try a strawberry margarita, it’ll be more fun,” Lorelei suggests.

“Okay,” Crystal squeaks.

“Raspberry Cosmo?” asks Wanda.

“Irish Peach Sour for me,” says Pietro with a shrug.

Hunter nods. “Coming right up,” he says, then adds sort of uncertainly to Lorelei, “Er, I don’t suppose you’d be interested after my shift is over…?”

“We’ll see,” Lorelei says, honey-sweet. “I might have a rescue mission to work on.” She glances pointedly at Crystal, making a pity-face.

“Oh.” Hunter pouts just slightly, but then he nods and turns away to get their drinks without another word.

“At least he went away quickly this time,” Wanda says cheerfully. “Maybe he’s finally learning.”

“Oh, that’s _fascinating_ ,” Aida murmurs. “I don’t know why I thought you were exaggerating about this, but it’s every bit as easy to manipulate him as you said.”

Lorelei smirks, clearly proud. “He’s one of the easier ones to get things from,” she says. “That’s about the only reason I haven’t _totally_ dropped him. That, and it would be socially inconvenient. Goodness knows we come here enough.”

Crystal’s eyes go even wider than before. “You mean you… did that on purpose?” she asks.

“Oh, honey,” Lorelei laughs. “Men are easy. You can get what you want from them with minimal effort. It’s not that I _can’t_ pay for my own drinks, or my own anything else, but sometimes it’s just more fun to get them for free.”

“She’s got toying with men down to an art,” Raina says, rather worshipfully. “And despite the fact that it’s not any sort of secret, they all fall for it.”

“You’re not bad at it yourself,” Lorelei says, nudging Raina fondly.

“They’ve been trying to get me to go out man-ruining for weeks now,” Aida explains. “I admit, I wanted to see how it played out, but men, cis men anyway, are just… so much effort.” They roll their eyes. “I tried that once, and never, ever again. Speaking of bad situations to escape,” they add, nodding at Crystal in understanding.

“Oh,” Crystal says. “Um. That’s - that’s so interesting! I don’t think I’d be very good at that, myself, but if you like it…”

“Well, it got you a free drink tonight,” Lorelei smirks.

“It did! Thank you, by the way,” Crystal says.

A moment passes in silence, where nobody’s exactly sure what to say, and then Raina tilts her head. “Crystal, do you have… horizontal stripes in your hair?”

 

* * *

 

“A _blender_ , really?” Val exclaims.

Melinda snickers. “Yep. It’s a good blender, so I’m not upset, but the poor man clearly had no idea how to shop for someone in order to show romantic interest.”

“Coulson’s just sort of like that, though,” Sif points out. “I think he’d still be uselessly pining after somebody if Rosalind hadn’t claimed him. She’s his domme,” she adds to Val. “She sort of just walked up to him one day and insisted they go to dinner. I guess it works for them.”

Val snorts. “Well, as long as they’re happy.”

“They seem happy,” says Melinda with a little shrug. “They’re more hardcore about it than I would be, but then I usually top.” She nudges Sif with her shoulder. “Usually.”

“Ooh,” Val says, leaning forward and smirking. “I’m guessing you manage to get that switch going both ways? I’m impressed. Our Sif’s quite the top herself.”

Sif tosses her hair, not even bothering to hide how proud she is of this fact. “Damn right,” she says with a grin. “But switching’s fun sometimes. You should try it sometime.” She winks at Val. The couple of drinks she’s had are probably at least a little responsible for this.

“Is that an invitation?” Val asks. She’s also had a couple of drinks, and then a couple more, which is definitely responsible for this.

“If you want it to be,” Melinda says. “We’re both down for that.”

“Intriguing,” Val says. This is pretty much a yes, and that’s obvious, but after a second she adds, “I’m down too.”

“Holy shit,” they hear someone yell, and it’s Darcy, who’s sitting with Tegan and Elena and Akela a couple of tables away. “Figures you’d get first dibs. Not fair.”

Val just laughs.


	173. and I swear I'll remember to say we were both born today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Laura welcome a new addition to their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: non-graphic childbirth scenes, one c-bomb said while under duress.

“Oh my god,” says Sam, holding up a tiny grey jersey with bear ears on the hood. “Look at this, it’s a little bear!”

“There are a bunch of little animals,” Steve says, sounding equally enthusiastic. “That’s so adorable.”

“Cute,” Natasha says. She’s sort of wishing she’d had the excuse of work to get out of this outing for emergency baby supplies, because this stuff is cute, but also, Steve and Sam give way more fucks than she does about all this. (She will absolutely be the best aunt to Clint and Laura’s baby, but until the kid actually pops out she’s sort of ambivalent.)

“You guys remember we’re mostly here for actual necessary things like formula and bottles and diapers, right?” Sharon cracks. “Not that making Clint and Laura’s baby into a furry isn’t appealing.”

Bucky snorts. “Oh my god, you’re making me regret not buying them only animal-themed clothing.”

“I’m just saying,” Sharon says, holding her hands up.

“Yeah, but then we couldn’t have bought them the bodysuit that says ‘poppin’ bottles,’” Natasha points out, smirking. She personally made it her mission to find the baby clothes with the dumbest possible sayings.

“Well, technically there will at least be bottles involved,” Steve says with a playful sigh. “I guess they probably won’t pop unless you put them in the microwave and something goes wrong, or sometimes it makes a cute popping noise when babies put the bottle in their mouth or take it out…” He shrugs.

“Yes, but it was also really dumb,” Bucky says with a grin. “So we needed to buy it.”

Steve holds up his hands. “At least it’s the funny kind of dumb baby stuff,” he says. For as baby-crazy as he’s proving, he still turns up his nose at the excessively gendered or overly cutesy slogans, among other things.

“Exactly,” says Sam cheerfully. “Ooh, tiny Minnie Mouse slippers!”

“You two are gonna be insufferable if-when we end up having a kid, huh?” Natasha asks, rolling her eyes fondly.

“Steve’s been like this forever,” Bucky says with a laugh. “He was one of the few boys who gave a shit about babysitting.”

“I just think kids are cute,” Steve says sheepishly. “And I wanna give them the best chances they can get to have good lives.”

“Sap,” Sharon teases, nudging Steve fondly. “We ready to get back on track? Not all of us have the entire day to spare.”

“I _guess,_ ” Sam sighs, putting the slippers back. “Okay, so, formula, bottles, diapers, wipes. Anything else?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

“We could split up,” suggests Natasha. “Not that I’m not enjoying watching you two coo over baby stuff, but I feel like it’ll go faster. Sharon, you and Sam go get diapers and wipes, and I’ll go with James and Steve for formula and bottles.”

Sharon nods, reaching for Sam’s hand. “C’mon,” she says. “We’ll have plenty of time to coo over baby stuff soon enough.”

“True,” Sam says, following her.

“Alright, you too,” Natasha says. “No more stopping on the way, alright?”

Bucky and Steve nod very seriously. Of course, this means they get distracted no less than three times.

“It’s a leopard!” Bucky says, waving a plush leopard cub in Natasha’s direction. “Laura likes cats, we should get this too.”

Natasha sighs. She’s given up on getting out of here in any reasonable amount of time. “She’d like that,” she agrees, offering the basket.

Twenty five minutes later, they all meet up near the front of the store. “This store is dangerous,” Sam says. “Everything is too cute.”

“I’m pretty sure they do that on purpose,” Sharon remarks.

“I hope you know I’m still going to buy our hypothetical kid terrible clothing,” Natasha says.

“Didn’t we just go over this?” Steve jokes. “Even terrible stuff can be cute sometimes.”

“We did, but I just felt the need to reiterate,” Natasha says, winking at Sharon.

 

* * *

 

It’s a Thursday night, so Fuego is pretty slow. Clint’s supposed to get off in about an hour, and he doesn’t even have to close, so he doesn’t mind wandering around the store straightening things. He’s had one or two bored teens wander in and buy something, but mostly he’s just been walking around trying not to quietly freak out.

Laura’s been having mild contractions off and on for the last couple days, but she swears it’s not a big deal. Apparently it’s only when the contractions are five minutes apart that they have to get to a hospital. Or maybe it’s fifteen minutes? He’s not in great shape at the moment, he’s so nervous. Either way, she didn’t seem worried so he’s trying to be chill about it (it’s not really working).

Then around seven, his phone chirps with a text alert. He’s really not supposed to look at it while on the job, but literally nobody is in here except for Warren, who’s also been on his phone a ton tonight, so he fumbles to check the text.

>> _Hi! So, I’m definitely starting contractions that mean labor. I’m heading to the hospital so don’t worry about me. :)_

He almost drops the phone before he manages to text back, fingers shaking so bad he definitely makes typos (autocorrect catches most of them).

_> >OH MY GOD how are you are you okay do you need snyhing??????_

_> >ANYTHING_

>> _I’m okay! Nat’s driving._

>> _I’ll get off right away and come right there I promise!!!!_

_> >Finish your shift, I’ll be okay. I’m not going to pop right away, promise. There are hours to go._

>> _but I’m WORRIED_

_> >I’m fine. Seriously._

_> >okay…… love you <3_

_> >Love you too._

Clint texts Steve, because he knows he’s off tonight.

_> >STEVE can you drive me to the hospital please I get off in like an hour but Laura’s in labor right now!!!!!!_

Mercifully, he only has to wait about a minute for a reply.

>> _Of course, I’ll be there to pick you up in ten minutes or less._

>> _Thank you!!!!!!!!!_

He ends up finishing up most of his shift, and Warren’s happy to cover for the rest. Most of the next half hour is him blabbering nonsense at Steve and Sharon (the latter of whom was apparently at Steve’s place and wanted to tag along for moral support), who are remarkably patient. “Sorry,” he says, after the fifth tangent. “It’s just...I’ve never done this before.”

“None of us have,” Sharon points out. “Likewise for an awful lot of parents who don’t screw up, so your odds are pretty good.”

“I guess,” says Clint, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. “I’m just freaked, y’know?”

“That’s normal,” Steve assures him. “But it’s going to be okay. Nat’s got an eye on Laura, Laura’s gonna be great at this, it’s gonna work out.”

“Yeah,” Clint replies, nodding like he’s trying to convince himself. “Yeah. We’ll be okay.”

Of course, once he gets inside the hospital room he promptly falls apart again, busting in very overdramatically and yelling “Laura, Laura, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Laura says, laughing. “Contractions suck, but I’m pulling through.”

“Dude, she’s fine,” Natasha says with a fond eyeroll. “Sit down, have a drink.” She produces a tiny flask from somewhere and hands it to him.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” Sharon remarks wryly, coming to nudge her girlfriend.

Natasha shrugs. “What? He’s gonna need something.” The nurse gives her a wary look but then goes back to calmly chatting with Laura.

“I guess it’s better than slipping him a Xanax,” Sharon shrugs.

“I would never,” says Natasha, making the world’s most innocent face.

“It’s not baby time yet, is it?” Clint asks, after downing half the tiny flask in one go. “I mean, you’re not screaming, so.” He flails his arms in a comically ineffectual shrug.

“It’s definitely not baby time,” Laura agrees, smiling (though slightly strained). “I’m barely even dilated or whatever.”

“Didn’t you have to read like eight million things about labor and babies and stuff?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow. “The average first time mother’s labor is like eight or nine hours.”

“There’s a lot to remember!” says Clint defensively. He goes over to sit down on Laura’s other side and grabs one of her hands. “I think you’re supposed to squeeze it when it hurts?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not exclusive to giving birth,” Laura jokes.

That makes him laugh, even though he still looks nervous. “I guess not,” he says with a little shrug.

 

* * *

 

Around 12:30 AM, when Laura’s at five centimeters and Steve and Sharon are drooped against each other fast asleep, Bucky (who arrived with Sam once their shifts ended at ten) says to Clint, “Dude, you should probably try and sleep a little.”

Clint is pacing around the room, which is at least a change from when he’d been doing jumping jacks earlier. “Can’t,” he says, looking at Bucky with wide eyes. “Might miss something. Too wired.”

“I’m not even all the way awake,” Laura points out. “Trust me. When things happen I’ll be screaming, and that’ll wake you up.”

“Here,” mumbles Natasha, who’s half-asleep herself. “More booze. That’ll help.” She shoves another flask in Clint’s direction.

Clint drinks it all in two swigs. He drops for about half an hour, then wakes up with a shocked yelp. “Has anything happened yet?” he asks.

“Nope,” says Sam. He’s reaching over to pet Sharon’s hair. “You can go back to sleep, pal.”

Clint nods, and promptly doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

Around 2 AM, things get exciting.

“Okay,” says the nurse, “it’s about time for Laura to start pushing, which means I need no more than four people in the room at a time.”

Natasha sighs. “Bye, guys,” she says, leaning over to kiss Steve, Sam, and Sharon. She’s staying for Clint’s sake, and Bucky’s staying because he’s got three younger sisters and he’s helped at least one of them through this before.

“Later, Tasha,” Sam says, ruffling her hair affectionately. “We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

“I’ll stock up on junk food from the vending machines,” Sharon adds. At this point that’s at least 50% for her own benefit, because if she doesn’t have caffeine or sugar soon she’s probably going to die.

The nurse nods, satisfied, and then says to Laura, “Okay, get ready to push, honey.”

Laura grits her teeth, then bares them (it’s supposed to be a smile, but it definitely doesn’t work). “Can we think of a fun synonym if the word ‘push’ starts to drive me insane?” she asks. “I know how my brain works and if you say the same word enough it won’t go well.”

Clint frantically pulls out his phone and googles. “I’ll look some up!” he says. “For when you need them!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Laura chuckles.

She’s a little less nice to him when the stronger contractions start, though. “Hey, Tasha, would you please punch my husband in the stomach and then kick him in the dick if he ever talks about impregnating me again? Because that’s - the - only - WAY! That he’s going to know how this feels.”

Natasha snorts. “Yeah, I’ll definitely do that.” She smiles sweetly over at Clint.

Clint is very pale and very frightened-looking. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, almost cheerful. “My sister Becca swore nonstop at her boyfriend during this part. I learned some new words from her.”

“What are they?” Laura asks. “Because I could use some new ones about now.”

Bucky leans over to whisper a few of them to her. “You’re welcome,” he says, grinning over at Clint. “She said it really helped.”

Sure enough, when the next contraction comes Laura shouts, “Cunt weasel!”

Clint’s eyes go wide. “Well, that’s new.”

 

* * *

 

“Thank goodness for modern medicine, I guess,” Sharon remarks, after Laura yells something surprisingly coherent involving chastising Clint for putting his penis in her vagina. In those words.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “This part seems pretty awful.”

“People with wombs are incredibly tough,” Steve declares, smiling at Sharon. “It’s impressive.”

“ _I did the math, Clint! I don’t even think I had an orgasm the night you impregnated me!_ ”

“Jesus,” Sharon sighs.

“Well, that’s more than I wanted to know about my friends’ sex lives,” says Sam.

 

* * *

 

Every time Laura swears, Bucky has taken to screaming “OH NO!” in a terrible Jar Jar Binks impression, and making the _Home Alone_ face. This doesn’t seem to be doing much to distract Laura, but he and Natasha collapse into hysterics every time.

 

* * *

 

It’s nearing three in the morning when they finally hear Clint yelling, mostly incoherent, but they can definitely make out “IT’S BABY TIME!”

Sam, who was dozing, blinks awake. “Oh, does that mean it’s finally out?”

“I’m guessing so,” Steve says. He’s not much more awake, but he’s still working on his cup of bad machine coffee. “I’m glad.”

Natasha pokes her head out of the room a few minutes later. “Baby’s here,” she says, sounding as if she’s aged ten years somehow. “C’mon in and see the weird little lizard baby before they have to take him off to get cleaned and stuff.”

“Why do we have to look at it when it’s gross?” Sharon asks.

“So James and I aren’t the only ones,” Natasha says, pouting. “Please?”

“Help me up,” Sharon whines playfully.

Natasha grabs her hand and tugs her to her feet. “Love you, зайка _,_ ” she murmurs.

“Love you too, sap,” Sharon teases.

“Ew,” Steve remarks, watching them.

Sam stands up and pulls Steve with him, giving him a playful kiss on the lips. “Let’s go meet our nephew,” he says with a grin. “Or whatever he is, I dunno.”

Inside the room, Laura is holding the baby, which does indeed sort of resemble a non-human in the way that many newborns do, but she and Clint are looking at him adoringly. Clint beams over at them. “Isn’t he perfect?”

“Yeah, totally,” Sam says diplomatically.

“What’s his name?” Steve asks. “Do you know yet?”

Suddenly Clint looks like a deer in the headlights. “I mean…” He looks frantically over at Laura. “We were going to name the baby Elizabeth and use Betty as a nickname, but you can’t name boys Betty. I mean, I guess you can, but that seems kind of mean. Except if you mean like Jayne from _Firefly_ , but Adam Baldwin’s an asshole so that’s not great, so, y’know. But I wanted to name her after Betty Cooper because Betty Cooper is great, but you can’t name a baby Archie, and you _really_ can’t name a baby Jughead-”

Laura smiles sleepily, earlier aspersions apparently forgotten. “You can name babies Cooper,” she points out.

“Oh,” Clint says, calming down. “That’s nice, yeah. Cooper is good.”

“Middle name?” Natasha asks, at which point Clint starts to look panicked again.

Quickly, Bucky says, “Hey, you like _Jurassic Park_ , right? Ian Malcolm, you could name him...well, Ian sounds kind of shitty with your last name, but Cooper Malcolm Barton sounds okay. And then he could be named after that other _Firefly_ guy too.”

Clint looks over at Laura. “What do you think?”

“I’m fine with that,” Laura agrees. “There won’t be another Cooper Malcolm in his class, but it won’t be silly like naming him… Castiel.”

Bucky and Natasha burst into peals of laughter (they’re pretty punchy by this point). “Poor little Castiels,” giggles Natasha. “There’ll be at least a couple of them in a lot of classrooms, I’m guessing.”

“Yup,” Laura agrees. “I imagine Cooper will be going to school with at least a Jax, a Bella, and an Elsa, too.”

“And at least three kids with unnecessary spellings including ‘y’ or ‘ae,’” Sharon adds. “Baby names are goofy.”

“Anyway,” Bucky says, stifling his giggles. “Congratulations, you guys.”

“Yeah,” echoes Natasha. “But we are all about to drop, so we’re going home to sleep now. Love you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, not taking his eyes off Cooper. “See you guys later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We do not have any babies, and barring something terrible happening, we don't plan on having any babies, so apologies if we've gotten something wrong here.
> 
> Also, this was the best explanation we could come up with for "Cooper." His birthday is officially November 17th, which is also the Wookiees' Life Day. This will come into play a bit later.


	174. and I don't want to be alone, sky, don't let the sun go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Black Friday, people meet at Applebee's to blow off steam.

“There’s nothing like Black Friday to make you want to get blackout drunk at six PM,” Bobbi announces, lifting her beer in a silent toast to… well, itself, probably.

“Don’t black out,” Jemma says softly. “I’d like to have sex tonight without worrying about consent issues, thank you.”

Skye snorts. “It’s cute that you’re worried,” she says, squeezing Jemma’s hand. “But I’m pretty sure Bobbi’s smart enough to avoid that.”

“I’m pretty sure, too, but it’s important nonetheless,” Jemma declares primly.

“What’s important?” Sif asks, sauntering up to the table. Val and Melinda are right behind her.

Of course, Jemma’s eyes go wide, and she hurries to say, “Unwinding. After a long, terrible day in retail hell. Yes.”

“I don’t think that’s what she was talking about, but I agree nonetheless,” Val remarks, mostly to Sif and Melinda. She’s betting that it’ll make Jemma - who she of course knows was belatedly part of her fanclub - blush, and it does, but it’s charming no matter how predictable.

“Hey,” Skye says, grinning at the newcomers. “We snagged the table, figured everybody would show up whenever they can.”

“Thanks,” says Melinda. “Pretty sure we all need this.”

“Are the drinks free tonight?” Val asks, this time mostly of Bobbi (given her dubious connection).

“Asshole’s not working tonight,” Bobbi says, rolling her eyes. “He goes out of his way to avoid leaving the house on Thanksgiving weekend. Blames it on being British when we all know he’s really just grumpy.”

“So no,” Val supplies, sliding into a seat. “I don’t mind, ‘course. I’d gladly blow all of my holiday pay on booze to counteract this so-called holiday.”

Skye makes a sympathetic face. “That bad for you too, huh?”

Val rolls her eyes. “I don’t mind some of the enthusiastic little buggers, but their demanding parents are a whole other business entirely,” she says.

“Yikes. I don’t usually get kids, just asshole adults who want cheap phones and shit.” Skye rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t even have a headphone jack, calm the fuck down.”

“Hey, guys,” Tegan says, flopping down at the table. “Can we all order shots or something? I want to be intoxicated a-s-a-friggin’-p.”

“Cute,” Val coos, grinning.

“Not without us, you don’t!” chirps Bucky, dragging Natasha over and sliding them both into seats.

Melinda flags down a waiter and everyone orders a round of drinks. “So who’s starting us off tonight?” Melinda asks once he’s left.

“I have a fun story about that new goth lady who just started at Sephora,” Bucky offers.

“Oh, Thor and Loki’s sister?” Sif asks, grinning mischievously. “Do tell.”

“So,” Bucky begins, and then Maya, who’s suddenly appeared, interrupts, “Did someone finally wear more eye makeup than you? Officially?” She’s grinning cheekily.

“Wow, Hansen,” Bucky says, making a mock-offended face. “No, better. So, this bald dude with a terrible goatee and a worse accent comes into the store with, no shit, a goddamn _wolf_ on a leash. A big black wolf.”

Skye sits up straighter. “A what now?”

Bucky nods. “You know the direwolves? Kinda like that. And Hela came over and started petting it and then my manager ambled over and said, ‘If this is not a service animal, it will have to be removed from the premises.’ And Hela said, ‘Oh, he’s perfectly well-behaved,’ and honestly I’m not sure whether she was talking about the wolf-dog or the bald dude, I don’t know what their relationship was at all.”

“He’s not making any of this up,” Tegan says adamantly. “We got called in to deal with it, I was the first one to show up and I swear that dog could have broken my arm with its jaws. Or something like that. Although I guess in its defense it seemed pretty content to just stand around when its questionable mom was around?”

Maria, seated next to Maya, nods. “It was the biggest damn dog I’ve ever seen. No way it would’ve been legally registered as a service animal.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “So then Hela says, ‘He’s an emotional support animal. I was in prison, you know, he helps with my anxiety from that.’ And my manager demanded paperwork for it, at which point these guys showed up and Hela told baldy to take the wolf-dog out. So I guess it definitely isn’t whatever she was claiming it was, at least not legally.” He laughs.

“Thor said she brought a dog to dinner,” Sif says, eyes wide, “but he didn’t mention anything like _that_.”

“Sounds wild,” Val says, clearly not meaning it as a compliment.

Bucky nods. “And like, not to belittle anyone’s experiences, but she seems to have been coping okay at work for the past week or so since she started, and also, I mean, if _I_ don’t need to get any of my dogs registered to come to work with me…” He shrugs.

“I also feel like giant dogs, even assuming this one was well-trained, probably wouldn’t be a good match for Sephora,” Jemma says. “Lots of small things. Substances that would be toxic.”

“Probably not,” agrees Bucky. “Anyway. So that was fun.” The drinks arrive, and he grabs his and takes a long swig. “Who’s next?”

“There was a brawl at the Gap, but I feel like that’s barely an event anymore,” says Natasha. “I had to physically separate two assholes. I got some nice bruises to show for it.” She rolls up her sleeve, revealing a dark splotchy bruise on her upper arm.

“Oh, same!” Skye says, probably too eagerly. “Over iPhones. I didn’t do anything though, I just called security and let them deal with it.” She smiles sweetly over at Maria and Tegan.

“We know,” Maria says, taking a very long drink. “Thanks.”

“Black Friday is dangerous,” says Aida, gracefully taking a seat at the table and rolling their eyes. “I didn’t realize people could be so brutal over something so foolish.”

“Was Candy Tyme running a massive sale I didn’t know about?” Maya asks, kind of trying to lighten the mood.

“No,” Aida replies, “but where sales go, energy crashes follow. Especially when idiots think it would be fun to bring their children to run the obstacle course in hell.” A waiter comes over with their drink (they’d ordered at the bar before sitting) and they sip it before continuing. “And where children go, candy follows.”

Natasha winces. “I’m so sorry. Children are…” She waves her hand around ineffectually and takes a long drink. “Yeah.”

“She was already children’d out for the week,” Bucky says fondly. “Clint’s kid has a pair of lungs on him, for sure.”

“Oh, is that where the other three are?” Skye asks.

“Yup,” Natasha says. “I think it’s therapeutic for them, being around the little guy. Not me.” She grins. “He’s cute and all, but I just had eight hours of screaming, I don’t want more of that.”

Trip ambles in. “Hey,” he says with an easy grin. “Don’t suppose we could get more drinks? Nordstrom’s about as bad as it’s ever been.”

Bobbi smirks and raises her hand. “The drinks may not be free, but everyone knows me by now anyway,” she says. “Has it gotten any better now that the day has gone on a little longer?”

“There was like an hour in there where nobody came in, around four. Then I guess people thought other people would be at dinner and we got mobbed again.” Trip shrugs. “How was it for you guys over in women’s?” he asks Maya. “It looked pretty bad.”

“It wasn’t great,” Maya agrees. “Honestly, I hate the half-yearly sales but at least that means this environment isn’t quite as out of the blue.”

Trip nods and replies, “Fair point.”

Pietro comes in, with Crystal in tow. “Hello!” he says. “I brought my friend Crystal. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course!” Jemma says, a little too brightly since she’s heard the outline of this story. “Hello, Crystal. We’re happy to have you.”

Crystal shrugs shyly, then sits down quickly like she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve. “Hello,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve met most of you?”

There is a round of introductions, and just as Skye is about to ask how bad the day’s been at Crystal’s family’s store the waiter reappears and takes more orders. Once he’s gone again, she manages to ask, “So. Does your family’s store do Black Friday or nah?”

“Not really,” Crystal says. “Medusa says we sell things that are too precious to be commercialized like that, so we don’t really have sales, just whatever prices are appropriate. I don’t think we’d even charge money if we could get away with it.”

Maya raises an eyebrow. “That’s… something,” she remarks.

“Yeah, sorta,” Crystal sighs.

“Well, you can just watch the rest of us chase oblivion, then,” Val says brightly. “Or chase it yourself for fun instead of necessity. Either way.”

“Where do you work?” Crystal asks Val, frowning. “It must be bad if you want to do that.”

“It’s not what I imagined I’d be doing with myself,” Val corrects. “And I have very little patience for terrible people, which unfortunately a lot of Disney Store customers are. You’d think they’d have learned lessons about goodness and friendship from the movies they show their children, but that might be too much to ask.”

Crystal’s eyes go wide. “I’ve never actually seen a Disney movie,” she admits. “They don’t promote the right… something, apparently. Are they really more about goodness and friendship?”

“Oh, honey,” Val says, leaning forward with a little smile and brushing back some of Crystal’s hair. “I’m not as enthusiastic about them as some of my coworkers, but I can see the value in some of their messages. Following your dreams and all.” Her smile goes smirky. “I know at least some of the movies are on Netflix, you could come over some time and we could… chill. It’s an experience you should have.”

“Really?” Crystal chirps (apparently oblivious to everyone else at the table being seriously amused by this). “That sounds really fun! I’d like that.”

“Give me your number,” Val suggests. “I’ll text you to work out some of the details.”

Sif chuckles, and then adds, “Oh god, Mel, remember that one woman who insisted she’d seen that everything was buy one get one?”

Melinda groans. “Why did you remind me of her?”

“Because I remembered and I thought you should too,” says Sif with a smirk, leaning over to kiss Melinda’s cheek.

“Oh yes, we had a similar problem!” Pietro says. “People get so upset about shoes. Some of them weren’t even very good shoes. I don’t know why you’d want to buy clogs with holiday lights on them for any price, but even forty percent off? No.”

The group continues swapping stories, eating food, and getting increasingly tipsy, before people finally start heading out. Pietro offers to walk Crystal home, and once they’re out of earshot of everyone else he says, “Just to make sure you know, ‘Netflix and chill’ doesn’t mean literally watching movies and hanging out. It can, but I don’t think that’s how Val meant it.”

Crystal tilts her head. “What does it mean? How did she mean it?”

“Well, she was hitting on you,” Pietro explains. “‘Netflix and chill’ often means ‘come over and have sex,’ although I suspect she wouldn’t go that fast if you didn’t want to. She definitely wanted to be alone with you, though.”

“Oh!” Crystal exclaims, surprisingly cheerful about this. “Nobody’s ever hit on me before. I don’t think.” Then horror crosses her face. “Wait, have you been hitting on me?”

Pietro looks equally startled and horrified. “No! I flirt with people sometimes, but it’s only for fun. I would never hit on you, you are my friend.” He grins. “Anyway, you said you don’t think you like boys, so it wouldn’t do any good if I was.”

“Okay, good,” Crystal says, nodding. “I like being friends, without the flirting, with you. I think I like Val flirting with me, though.”

“She’s clearly interested,” he says. “That’s convenient. I hear you can’t always tell.”


	175. the winter's light feels different on my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Knowhere crowd throws a holiday party with a white elephant exchange.

Mantis is sitting in front of the Christmas tree set up in the spare Knowhere store, staring wide-eyed. “It’s beautiful,” she says. “And it smells so wonderful. The artificial ones that we had before never smelled like anything.”

Quill beams over at her. “Mom and I always got a real tree, no matter what. My favorite thing was to get under it and just lie there for hours. And I didn’t usually sit still as a kid at all, but it was really, y’know, calming and stuff. So I wanted to make sure you could do that too, since it’s your first real Christmas with people who care about you and all.”

“Thank you,” Mantis says seriously. “Real Christmas always _seemed_ wonderful, but now I know that it is!”

Drax claps his hands. “If only we had a large dead animal to roast on a fireplace! That’s what my family did for Christmas. My father and I would go out and kill it ourselves. It was delicious!”

“Gross,” groans Nebula. “And we don’t have a fireplace anyway.”

“I don’t think the holidays should be about killing,” Carina says. “At least, I don’t want to kill anything for the holidays.” And most of the rest of the time, but despite not being at all religious she gets particularly sentimental around this season.

“Hey,” Mike calls as he opens the door. He’s holding something that is clearly a Build-a-Bear house, not at all cleverly disguised with wrapping paper. “Am I too early?”

“No,” Gamora says, looking up from the refreshments table with a grateful smile. “It’s not _too_ crazy yet, but give these dorks some time.” She rolls her eyes in Quill’s direction specifically. She really just means the one dork.

“I am not a penis,” Drax says cheerfully. “Mike, would you like me to put that under the tree for you?”

“Sure,” Mike says, handing it to him and then going over to get a cookie. He leans over to kiss Gamora’s cheek and she lets him. “So who all is coming, anyway?”

“Nebula and Carina’s bunch, Joey of course, the Maximoffs and their tag-alongs, and Raina and Lorelei and their…” Quill pauses. “Sex friend?” He tilts his head. He’d been going to say “girlfriend” or “boyfriend” but those aren’t the right words. He knows, because Gamora lectured him about it at length.

Mike nods. “Oh, Aida? Yeah, they’re cool. Ace hung out with them once when I couldn’t get out of my shift on time.”

“Quill still thinks he has a chance with Raina,” snorts Nebula.

Quill pouts. “You never know!”

“We really kind of do,” Gamora drawls, but before she can continue she’s interrupted by a new voice at the door.

“Oh my _stars_ ,” exclaims the girl. It’s definitely a new girl. “It smells like cinnamon in here!”

Drax turns to look at whoever talked. “That’s the pine cones!” he says. “I brought them. They aren’t like real pine cones, someone put cinnamon on them so they would smell nice. I’m Drax.” He offers his hand.

“Hello! I’m Crystal,” says Crystal, eagerly shaking Drax’s hands. “I love your tattoos!”

“Thank you! Gamora did them. She is my partner, but not my romantic partner, just my business partner. My romantic partner is not here yet, but his name is Joey. Gamora and I own the tattoo shop next door. Do you have tattoos?”

Crystal shakes her head. “I always kind of wanted one, but my cousin Karnak said they really hurt,” she says. “I don’t really want anyone to tap bone into my skin.”

Drax’s eyes widen. “Bone? We use needles, but not like the kinds of needles doctors use. What kind of tattoos did your cousin get?”

“Um, traditional ones?” Crystal shrugs, looking bewildered. “My family isn’t really into things that aren’t natural.”

Pietro, who came in with her, frowns sympathetically in her direction and then adds, “They don’t really do things like regular people. Crystal didn’t have any friends outside her family before she met me.”

“How long does it take to do tattoos with needles?” Crystal asks, because she’d rather learn things than dwell on her own ignorance and it seems like a safe question.

“It depends,” says Gamora, who couldn’t help but start listening when Crystal’s strange family situation was mentioned but didn’t know how to actually be of assistance until now. “We did Drax’s a little at a time, but I’d say it was probably twenty hours total. My sister’s arm is a work in progress but it’ll probably be about the same amount of time.” She nods at Nebula. “But if you’re doing something smaller -”

“Like this one!” Pietro chirps, lifting up his shirt to point at the small chakra on his abs. “This took two hours, I think. I was playing on my phone for most of it.”

“Oh,” Crystal says, sounding awed. “Two hours doesn’t sound bad. That’s a lot shorter than I was expecting, Karnak’s took… a lot more.”

Wanda and Hope walk in, holding hands. “Hi,” Wanda says. “What’s going on?”

“I got a menorah!” Drax says, pointing at the menorah sitting on the table next to the snacks. It’s white, pink, and purple and has a giant Star of David in the middle, under the candles. “I thought you might want to light it.”

Wanda giggles and tries, not very successfully, to hide it. “Hanukkah doesn’t start until next week, actually, but it was very nice of you to think of us.”

“Why is it pink?” Pietro asks. “I don’t mind, but I’ve never seen a pink menorah before.”

Drax shrugs. “It was the first one I saw. I liked all the colors.”

“Everyone should come put their presents in a pile!” Carina shouts. “Over here. By our very nondenominational tree.” She nods seriously. Her attempts to be inclusive are a little less silly.

Crystal, for one, seems pleased. “I’m used to celebrating trees,” she murmurs to Pietro as they go to set their presents down.

 

* * *

 

Once the last couple of stragglers (Rogue and Remy, looking a little mussed, but nobody says anything out of a mix of politeness and fear of Rogue’s retaliation) show up, Quill has everyone sit by the tree. “Okay, so just in case somebody hasn’t been to a white elephant before, I’ll explain how this works,” he says, winking at Mantis. “We’ll all go one at a time and pick a present from under the tree. You should pick the one you didn’t bring, because then it’ll be a surprise. You open it, and then you decide whether you want to keep it or trade it with someone else’s present. A present can only be traded three times, and then whoever has it after three times has to keep it. It’s pretty fun. I’ll go first so you can see how it’s done.” He ambles over to the tree and grabs one of the larger boxes, which turns out to be a light-up cocktail shaker. “Oh, wow,” he says, sounding surprised. “This is cool, actually. I’m keeping this for sure.”

Stoney the dog, who was “napping” in the office earlier (mostly so he wouldn’t try and eat anything while everyone was too busy to watch him), comes over to sniff at it. “We have something for you later, buddy,” Quill says, scratching him behind the ears.

“There isn’t very much point putting a present for a dog in the white elephant exchange, considering none of the rest of us would want it,” Carina explains, halfway to the dog even though he won’t understand.

Nebula nudges her wife fondly with her shoulder. “You know he can’t understand you,” she says, and if she were saying it to anyone else it would sound mean, but it doesn’t.

“Yeah, well,” Carina mumbles sheepishly, but she’s smiling.

Quill draws names out of a Christmas stocking to see who goes next. Mike’s the first after him, and he unwraps some children’s-sized socks with Finn and Poe from _Star Wars_ on them. “Ooh!” he says. “I mean, I’m sure whoever brought these wasn’t thinking of me, but Ace’ll actually love these, so thanks, whoever you are.”

“Me,” says Pietro with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure what to bring and I thought maybe someone with small feet might get them.”

“How very practical,” drawls Aida, who’s sitting with their quasi-girlfriends on one of the empty tables that was probably put out for people to set their snacks on while they were dancing or something. There hasn’t been any dancing.

“Don’t make fun,” Raina chides jokingly. “It’s a very earnest, sweet little thing.”

Aida rolls their eyes, smiling. “This is one of those times my sarcastic voice and my happy voice sound the same, rosebud,” they say.

“And possibly might actually _be_ the same,” Lorelei chimes in.

Crystal gets called next, and she actually looks surprised by this. “Huh,” she says, contemplating all of the presents before picking up one covered in glittery silver paper. When she unwraps it, it’s a tiara with jewels and seashells on it, and her eyes light up. “Wow, that’s so pretty! Thank you, uh, whoever.”

Unsurprisingly this was Carina’s offering, and she raises a hand to take credit. “You’re welcome,” she says, sounding even softer than usual. “Are you going to put it on?”

“Can I?” Crystal asks, wide-eyed, and off Carina’s nod she sets the tiara on her head. “How does it look?”

“Very nice,” Pietro says, smiling. “But you always look nice. I mean that in a friendly way, not a flirting way,” he adds quickly.

“Thank you, in a friendly way, not a flirting way,” Crystal chirps as she sits back down.

Quill blinks in confusion at the two of them. “Are they actually flirting and being super weird about it?” he asks Gamora, less quietly than he thinks.

“No,” Gamora sighs. “They’re not. Do they look like they’re flirting?”

“I dunno,” he says with a shrug. “Kind of?” But then he pulls another name out of the hat. “Carina, actually, you’re next.”

“Cool!” Carina chirps, and she goes to pick up a small, flat present. “I want to see what’s in this small one,” she explains. It turns out to be a pair of socks, screenprinted with the words WHITE ELEPHANT on the top. “Um?”

“I didn’t bring an elephant this year!” Drax says, sounding very proud of himself. “See?” He adds, for the benefit of the new people, “Last time I brought a stuffed elephant, but that was apparently not the point of the game.”

“Oh no,” Mantis exclaims, looking horrified.

“Uh oh,” Drax says. “Did you bring an elephant? It’s okay if you did. I’m sure someone will want it.”

“I hope so,” Mantis says.

Nebula’s chosen gift contains a pair of dinosaur-shaped planters. “Uh,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Thanks.”

“I can find plants for those!” Carina says brightly. “That sounds nice.”

“I can recommend a few,” Raina calls, and off Quill’s excited expression she adds, “Not that one. It wouldn’t be suited for a planter like that.”

“Aw, man.”

Remy opens a box with an elephant-shaped gadget that’s both a phone stand and pencil holder. “‘s cute,” he says, grinning. “I’ll figure out something t’ do with it, for sure.”

“I didn’t think you were supposed to bring elephant things,” says Laura, “but that seemed useful, at least.” She shrugs. “I hope you like it.”

“I do, petite,” he replies, patting her arm fondly. MJ glances at Rogue like she’s expecting her to look jealous, but Rogue doesn’t seem bothered at all.

Gamora blinks at her present once it’s unwrapped - a set of five colors of lip gloss, including white and blue, with unicorns on the tubes. “I guess it could be stranger,” she declares.

“I think I want this one,” Mantis declares, picking up Mike’s box. (She’s probably the only one who can’t tell what it is from the shape of it.) Once it’s open she literally squeals with delight as she pulls out a white leopard with rainbow spots. “It’s so cute! I love it. Her, I love her. She has eyelashes, which in cartoons means you’re a girl.”

“Oh my god,” Gamora mutters, though sort of fondly. “Nobody buy her any more stuffed animals. I’m surprised her bedroom isn’t a stuffed animal fire hazard.”

“They’re my friends,” Mantis says. “I love each and every one of them.”

Rogue opens a stuffed white elephant. “Oh,” she says, smirking. “Guess this is the one you brought, then?” She glances over at Mantis.

“Yes,” Mantis says. “He is small and fuzzy, and he also wants to be friends.”

Rogue shrugs. “Sure, why not.” She absently pets the elephant’s ear. “He’s pretty cute.”

There seems to be an accidental theme, since the present Wanda picks is a box with a tiny stuffed owl inside. The box is labeled ADOPT AN OWL. “Oh!” she says, smiling. “I don’t know why the owl needs adopting, but I like owls. Thank you, whoever brought this.”

Cessily giggles. “I guess it needs a family? I don’t know, I just saw it and thought it might be fun.”

Pietro gets a fluffy pink duster shaped like a llama. “I don’t understand why this is pink either,” he says cheerfully, “but okay! I can use it to clean my laptop.”

MJ picks out a knife sharpener, which seems to confuse her a little. “I don’t have any knives except for kitchen knives, but okay.” She shrugs.

“Well, you should get some,” Gamora says plainly. “They’re very useful.”

Hope, who’s mostly been quiet all night (she doesn’t really know a lot of these people that well, after all, and several of the ones she _does_ know still sort of terrify her), goes next and picks up a large gift bag that turns out to have… another bag inside it. A pink Victoria’s Secret one. “Uh,” she squeaks.

“You’re gonna be fine, kid, don’t worry,” Lorelei smirks. “It’s nothing scary.”

It’s a black makeup bag with a vaguely glittery overlay and little heart-shaped studs, and Hope looks visibly relieved. “This is actually really practical, thank you,” she says.

Much less on the practical end of things is Laura’s present, which is a cookie cutter shaped like… “Is this a marijuana leaf?” she asks, baffled.

Quill snickers. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist.”

“Well, thank you, I think,” says Laura. “I don’t smoke but I can make cookies and pretend they are different sorts of leaves, I suppose.”

Joey receives a fancy-looking water bottle, which he seems pleased with. “I’ve been needing a new one anyway, thanks.”

“Be sure to secure this one so it doesn’t fall of your bike!” Drax says, elbowing him fondly and grinning.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of things that, y’know, normal people would like, but everyone drinks water,” Crystal says, clearly glad it wasn’t a disastrous offering.

Quill pokes Gamora and mutters, “Am I supposed to be drinking water?”

“Yes, idiot,” Gamora replies, sort of fondly.

Lorelei is next up, and she glances at Raina and Aida (on either side of her) before announcing, “I’m comfortable. Someone pass me that large square present.”

“I will!” Quill jumps up immediately and brings it over to her, beaming hopefully.

“Thanks, dear,” Lorelei says casually, patting him on the head before she reaches for the present. It turns out to be a giant wineglass, which makes her smile but clearly in spite of herself. “For the end of a long day at work, I guess?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Remy says with a wink. “Enjoy.” At this, Rogue does look a little irritated.

Of course, Lorelei notices that look on Rogue’s face, and she smirks for just a second before she announces, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands off of him.”

Rogue makes a face like she’s embarrassed, annoyed, and grateful for the clarification all at once. Remy grins over at her and whispers something in her ear that makes her blush and swat at him.

Next, Aida unwraps what’s labeled as a Cozy Bat Costume. “Well, as long as it’s cozy, I guess,” they say, chuckling. “I can think of stranger things to wear around the house.”

Nebula snorts. “Have fun, I guess?”

“Now, who could this possibly be from?” Raina asks playfully upon opening her gift, a Beanie Baby giraffe named Peaches. She already knows.

“I told you, the giraffe is apparently gay, Google said so,” Aida says. “I had to rescue them from heterosexual candy hell.” They reach across Lorelei’s lap to nudge Raina pointedly.

Drax opens a package containing a flower-shaped incense holder. “Oh!” he says. “I have never used incense before but it smells nice.”

“I figured it was one of the safest things my workplace offered,” Raina says sweetly.

Cessily, who is last, grabs the final present and opens a set of lip gloss labeled Cosmic Gloss and apparently by Rihanna. “Ooh, I like glitter,” she says, grinning.

“Oh good, that worked out,” says MJ. “I just kinda thought they were fun. Glad they’re going to a person who actually likes them.”

Quill pulls out one last present and tears off the paper as Stoney nips at it. “Here you go, buddy,” he says, handing the dog a rawhide bone. Stoney yips and starts gnawing on it immediately.

“Happy holidays, friend-family!” Mantis shouts cheerfully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, brought to you by the letter I for "Inhumans is a cult!"


	176. love is simply joy that I'm home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The science department's holiday party happens.

“Hello!” Hank says when he opens the door. “Seasonal felicitations!”

Wanda laughs. “Hello, Professor,” she says. “Are we the first ones here?”

“Not quite,” Anne says over her shoulder, smiling. “It would be fine either way, of course.”

“We’re playing a little game!” Hank says, handing Wanda a wooden dreidel.

Wanda blinks. “Um?”

“What are you doing?” Anne asks, sighing playfully.

“I thought it might be nicer to give her something from her religion, rather than something specifically Christian,” says Hank with a kind smile.

“Oh,” Wanda says. “Thank you?”

“That’s… something,” Anne says. “I’m fairly sure she’s not the only Jewish guest we’ll have this evening, though, dear.”

“I am too!” Pietro says cheerfully, waving. “I’m her twin.”

“Sorry, should I have mentioned he was coming?” Wanda says, looking a bit nervous.

Hank frowns, but it looks like he’s more bothered by his own inconsiderate behavior than her apology. “I have a candy cane?” he says, offering it to Pietro very awkwardly.

“Okay!” Pietro says, grinning and taking it from him.

“Are you also Jewish?” Hank says, looking at Hope with obvious concern. “I hadn’t thought to ask, I’m terribly sorry.”

“I’m not really anything,” Hope says, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, my parents celebrate Christmas, technically, but not, uh, not in a church way.”

“Alright,” he says, smiling. “Here’s an ornament for you, then.”

“Thank you,” Hope says, blinking at it in confusion.

“Is this normal?” Crystal asks, tugging on Pietro’s arm.

“I don’t think so,” Pietro says, shrugging. “I haven’t been to very many holidays parties though.”

“Oh, hello!” Hank says, since he hadn’t noticed Crystal before (she was sort of hiding in the back). “What holidays do you celebrate?”

Her eyes go wide. “It’s sort of hard to explain,” she says, wincing.

Pietro gently pokes Hank’s shoulder and, when Hank looks over at him, Pietro whispers (not as quietly as he should have), “She’s sort of in a cult, but it’s not her fault. We’re helping.”

Hank’s eyes go very wide and he quickly hands Crystal a little paper snowflake. “Here.”

“Thank you?” Crystal says. “Are we making these? I’ve done that.” More than is probably healthy for any one person, honestly, but she doesn’t need to explain.

“No,” Anne says. “If you wanted to, I have paper, but this is all part of someone’s amusingly ill-conceived party game.” She raises an eyebrow at Hank playfully. “Every guest receives a holiday trinket, then hides it somewhere in the house, then we have a contest to see who can retrieve the most. It’s still less ridiculous than a lot of the party games he found online.”

“I just hadn’t got to the explanation yet,” says Hank with a good-natured shrug.

“So you can hide them wherever you like,” Anne continues, then extending a hand toward Crystal. “I’m Dr. Weaver, Anne, and you are?”

“Crystal,” says Crystal. “I’m friends with Pietro and Wanda.” She shrugs. “I, uh, I don’t go to this school or anything, my family just owns a store near the mall where they work.”

“Even still, welcome,” Anne says. “There’s food inside.”

Pietro darts inside at the mention of food. Wanda snorts and follows him inside. “He’s always hungry,” she says, by way of explanation. “He’s very energetic.”

“It makes sense,” Crystal says with a shrug. “This is such a splendid house!”

“Anne’s brilliant,” Wanda says loyally. “She’s been published in dozens of medical journals and goes to conferences to present her papers all the time.”

“That’s fascinating!” Crystal says, and she means it. “That must be such an exciting life.”

Wanda nods. “I’ve only had one or two classes with her but they’ve been incredible.”

Pietro, meanwhile, has unwrapped the candy cane and put it in his mouth, looking pleased.

“You were supposed to hide that!” Wanda scolds him.

Pietro shrugs. “I’m hiding it in me.” He gives her a mischievous grin.

“That’s not what Professor McCoy meant at all,” sighs Wanda.

“I hope nobody is going to try to find it there,” Hope jokes.

Pietro giggles. “Probably not.”

Skye, Jemma and Trip are already clustered by the refreshments table, and Skye waves them over. “Hi!” she says, beaming. “You’re Crystal, right?”

“Yeah,” Crystal says, smiling shyly. “You guys are at the mall, right? From Black Friday.”

“Yep. I’m from the Mac store, Jem’s at the ice cream place, Trip’s at Nordstrom, Bobbi is…” Skye glances around. “Where’d Bobbi go?”

“Drinks,” Bobbi calls, coming over with a few cocktails balanced precariously on a plate in one hand. “I mixed, enjoy yourselves. Who’s the new girl?”

“Crystal,” says Crystal. “Uh. My family runs the, uh. I guess it’s kind of a New Age store? I didn’t realize they were called that, but apparently they are.”

Bobbi nods in understanding - by now, everyone has heard about this poor girl, but she doesn’t want to be patronizing. “As she said, I’m Bobbi. I sell people wedding dresses and try really hard not to judge their life choices.”

“Because the dresses are unattractive?” Crystal asks. “My sister’s wedding dress was very unattractive, but I couldn’t say anything about it because she was so happy and I was ten so my opinion didn’t really count.”

“Sometimes it’s because the dresses are unattractive,” Bobbi concedes, smirking. “Sometimes it’s because I don’t really buy into the marriage thing.”

“It’s fine for some people,” Jemma cuts in, glancing shyly at Skye. “Eventually, after discussion.”

“I don’t buy into it for some people, then,” Bobbi says, nudging Jemma. “The other people, who it’s not fine for. I’d like to think I’m okay at telling who that is.”

“That makes sense,” Crystal says, nodding.

“I guess you didn’t bring your dog?” Skye asks, trying not to look too disappointed.

Crystal’s face falls, just a little. “No,” she says. “He’s too big, I wasn’t sure how he’d get along in a house this fancy.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Skye says quickly. “I mean, it’s really nice to meet you too! I just like dogs.” She grabs a cookie off the table and offers it to Crystal, as a sort of apology. “Cookie?”

“Thank you,” Crystal says, taking the cookie and breaking off an edge thoughtfully. “I mean, I know Lockjaw is pretty attention-grabbing. I don’t blame you for noticing him. What kind of cookie is this? It’s really tasty.”

“It’s a chai spiced snickerdoodle,” Skye says. “This one made them.” She nudges Jemma fondly.

Jemma grins, she can’t help it. “I saw the recipe online and it sounded interesting,” she says. “Though of course I’ll give Trip some credit too, he’s my baking buddy.”

Crystal tilts her head. “Is that a euphemism? Apparently a lot of things are, and I’m still learning how to tell.”

All four of them burst out laughing, not meanly, and Trip says with a kind smile, “Nope, she and Skye have been a thing for like a million years. I’m just helping Jemma with kitchen stuff.”

“Oh,” Crystal says, nodding. “That’s nice. Do any of you actually go to this school?”

“Jemma’s an undergrad,” Skye says proudly. “Studying biochemistry. She’s a genius and stuff.”

Jemma scrunches up her nose sheepishly, but she doesn’t contradict it. “And what about you, Crystal?” she asks, genuinely interested.

“Oh, I’m not in school,” Crystal says quickly. “My family homeschooled me, and they’re not really, um. Big on higher education. So.” She looks embarrassed about this, but like she doesn’t know what to do about it.

“She works in her family’s store,” Pietro says, clearly trying to be helpful. “For now. They sell crystals and incense and things like that.”

Skye’s eyes go wide. “Oh, wow,” she says, and she doesn’t sound judgmental, just surprised. “So are you like, into that, Crystal, or is it just kinda a thing to do for now?”

“For now,” Crystal says quickly. “I don’t really know what I want to do with forever yet, but, well, my sister and her husband like having me working with them.”

Bobbi’s eyebrows go up. “Ah-huh,” she says, because she understands enough about this to know it’s not the time to press. “So for tonight you’re just hanging out with these dorks?” She smiles to show it’s meant fondly.

Crystal nods. “I hang out with them a lot,” she says. “Pietro and Wanda have been really nice, showing me around. And Hope is cool too!” She smiles, though a bit nervously.

Skye seems about to ask another question when Peter runs in with Gwen at his heels. “Have you guys seen MJ?” he asks. “Is she here yet?”

“Uh, no?” Skye asks, baffled. “Is she coming to this party.”

“She doesn’t, you know, go here,” Jemma adds awkwardly. “Which is fine! Just…”

“I know,” Peter says, “but I asked her to come because - did you guys know she has a girlfriend? Like she _said_ she has a girlfriend, she used the word girlfriend!”

“At Halloween,” Gwen clarifies. “She said her girlfriend was picking her up.”

“It’s this girl I knew in high school, I think,” adds Peter. “Liz Allen. But I’m not totally sure so I wanted to see.”

“Devious,” Hope remarks wryly.

Peter shrugs. “Anyway. Seen her?”

“No, but now I hope we do,” Trip says with a laugh. “She didn’t seem the type to want to settle down with one person.”

“That’s what we thought,” says Gwen, shrugging.

It’s not too much longer before MJ appears, holding hands with another girl. “Hey,” she says, grinning, and then she looks playfully suspicious. “Wait. Were you all waiting for me to show up?”

“No,” says Peter, but his voice squeaks.

“I mean, I know I bring the party, but this is a little creepy,” she teases. “I think you’re about to get grilled,” she says to the girl next to her, sounding apologetic.

“I was expecting that,” the girl says with a shrug. “Hey, Peter. It’s been a while.”

“Hey Liz,” Peter says, beaming. “It is you! I wondered. MJ said your name once, I’m not like, a creep,” he adds quickly.

“You are a little,” Gwen says fondly, “but it’s okay.” She grins at Liz. “Hi. I’m still dating this nerd.”

“Excuse me, which one of us did calculations to figure out the perfect placement for each ornament on the tree?” teases Peter.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Liz laughs. “Sounds about right,” she says. “Do I get to meet the rest of the crowd too? She’s been shy about taking me places.”

“I just really didn’t want to introduce you to Peter Quill,” says MJ dryly. “That’s why I didn’t bring you to the one at the tattoo place.”

Skye makes a face. ‘Yeah, good call.” She sticks out her hand. “Hi, I’m Skye.”

“Hey, Skye,” Liz says, shaking Skye’s hand easily. “You look familiar, have I seen you around?”

“Maybe? I was taking classes at Kirby, it’s possible you saw me walking around and stuff.”

“That’d make sense,” Liz nods. “I’m not recognizing the rest of you, though.” She smiles sheepishly.

“I’m Jemma,” says Jemma eagerly. “I’m in biochem here, so I have classes with Peter and Gwen sometimes. Skye’s my girlfriend.”

“Etcetera,” Bobbi adds. “Bobbi. I’m the resident adult, tagging along ‘cause Skye and Jemma are both sort of my girlfriends sometimes.” She grins. “If that’s the word you insist on.”

“And I’m Trip,” says Trip. “Just a friend.” He smiles, but it looks a little sad, and Skye pats him on the arm.

“My name is Wanda,” says Wanda. “That’s my brother Pietro.” She points to Pietro, who seems to be trying to build a tiny house out of crackers. “He gets bored easily. And this is my girlfriend Hope.”

“Hi,” Hope says, waving eagerly.

“I’m Crystal,” says Crystal. “I don’t go here either, but I came with them, but not _with_ any of them, because I’m not actually _with_ anyone right now. Or ever before.” She smiles brightly. “But I don’t mean that in a feel sorry for me way.”

Liz nods. “Well, it’s good to meet you all, Skye, Jemma, Bobbi, Trip, Wanda, Pietro, Hope, and Crystal,” she says. “I’m Liz, and I’m going to be up for discussing my sordid past for exactly five minutes, if anyone needs to get questions out of the way.”

“What happened with your dad?” Peter says. Then he makes a face. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds. Y’know.”

“He went to jail,” Liz shrugs. It’s clear she’s had to practice talking about this casually, but she has. “It was a lot of messy financial stuff, plus a little bit of blackmail. Mom and I moved out to Oregon to get some distance from it, which was his idea, he didn’t want us seeing him in hard times like that. Turns out he also didn’t want us finding out that he was going to try to run a racket in prison.” She rolls her eyes a little and squeezes MJ’s hand. “That didn’t end well, and he, uh, got himself killed. We didn’t have a lot, financially, after the seizure of all his assets, so for a while I was just helping Mom pay the bills. Nothing sordid there, just boring.”

“So what brought you back here?” asks Gwen. “Not that we’re not happy to see you. Everybody at school was worried when you left so suddenly.”

“The company Mom used to work for when I was little, before Dad started making enough that she didn’t have to, had an opening, and one of her friends from back then got her in the door,” Liz explains. “Way more stable than any of the stuff she was doing out there, so she went for it, and I came with. I’m getting a later start on college than I thought I would, and starting at Kirby to save money, but Mom insisted. Honestly, I’m glad. I missed school, even if that sounds lame.”

“And hey, if you hadn’t, we wouldn’t have run into each other,” MJ says, running a hand down Liz’s back affectionately. “But you can read all the textbooks you want now, nerd.”

Liz smiles in a way that definitely looks like she can’t help it. “That’s true,” she says. “I’m glad it happened how it did. A lot of stuff has, well, it’s kind of sucked. But it’s all made me, this sounds lame too, I know, it’s made me the me I am today.” She makes a playfully self-deprecating face. “Are five minutes up?”

“Not quite,” Skye says cheerfully. “Welcome to the ‘my shitty dad died in prison’ club!” She offers a high five. “Mine abused my mom and kidnapped me when I was a baby, so.”

“Oh, shit,” Liz murmurs, eyes wide. “That feels like a weird thing to high five about, but I’m glad you’re okay! Is your mom…?”

“Oh yeah, she’s great now. She lives in San Fransokyo and runs a charity for abuse survivors and stuff. She’s badass.” Skye grins. “We’re actually gonna go down and see her right after Christmas.”

“That’s great!” Liz exclaims, and she clearly means it. “That’s the best kind of story.”

“Oh, she’s wonderful,” Jemma adds. “We’ve been out to see her a couple of times, and she’s so elegant. We took her to Disneyland once and it was the most charming thing.” She pauses to give Skye a kiss on the cheek. “If you’re one to believe in nature over nurture, it’s easy to see where this one gets her compassion.”

“Gross,” Bobbi deadpans, but she’s smiling.

“Aww,” MJ teases. “Nice to know you can still be cute after like, years.”

Skye grabs Jemma’s face to plant one on her. “Damn right,” she says with a grin.

Liz gives MJ another little squeeze. “There’s a lotta cute here, I think,” she says. “So, did everyone get a trinket at the door?”

“Yes,” chirps Pietro. “We are supposed to hide them in the house, but I ate mine. Which is still hiding it, sort of.”

 

* * *

 

“...it seems as if most of the games for adults are based on humiliation,” Hank is saying with a shake of his head. “Which can be amusing, I suppose, but nearly every suggestion involved some form of that.”

“Like how?” Jane asks. “I’ve managed to go most of my life without getting stuck playing party games, probably because I was the kid who brought books to birthdays.”

“Many things involving moving an object from one place to another, often without using one’s hands,” says Hank. “Move cotton balls from one cup to another by putting vaseline on your nose, move ornaments using your mouth, and so forth. It was all very silly.”

“That doesn’t sound very sanitary,” Helen remarks, sipping her wine.

Hank nods. “It definitely didn’t. Which is why I went with the scavenger hunt, which at least did not involve mouths or the loss of appendages. I thought the ones that required you to relinquish the use of your hands sounded inconsiderate to disabled folks, also.”

Maria coughs pointedly. “Speaking as someone who’s been without various limbs and appendages, it would probably either make someone who had that feel like total shit or it would give them an unfair advantage. Plus it sounds ridiculous.”

“Aw,” Maya says, nudging her girlfriend. “I bet Aly doesn’t have to play games like that at her parties, huh?”

“Nope,” Maria says. “And if her mom ever got such a dumb idea, she’d have to deal with me. She’s a smart kid, though, she usually just wants to play skill-based games.”

“I cannot imagine my parents ever condoning such shenanigans,” Thor says with a laugh. “We often just played elaborate games such as hide and seek. Loki liked to hide in places that no one thought he could possibly fit in, and then when I went looking for him he would pop out and punch me in the nose.” He doesn’t seem bothered by this memory.

Anne, on the other hand, makes a face. “Suppose that’s why I’ve never had children,” she remarks. “College students are mature enough not to do ridiculous things like that.”

Thor shrugs. “Loki still punches me all the time. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

 

* * *

 

Hank’s trying to round up everyone in the same room, so people are slowly trickling in. Claire is smirking at MJ and Liz. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t figure you for the girlfriend type,” she says. “Or boyfriend.”

MJ shrugs good-naturedly. “Shit happens. It was pretty much a surprise to me too.”

“Oh, don’t let her get to you,” Candace chuckles. “She’s just glad it’s someone else’s turn to get teased. We were that surprise couple last year.”

“Cute, I think?” Liz laughs.

“Yeah,” says Claire, “but then like, do you guys constantly get your sexuality challenged? Because…” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh yeah, all the time,” Liz nods. “Too pretty to be queer, all that stuff.”

“I’m the party bi,” MJ agrees. “Which comes with its own fun set of assumptions. Y’know.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Candace nods.

A few minutes later the last few guests wander in and Hank clears his throat for attention. “As you know,” he says, once everyone is mostly quiet, “small holiday items were passed out to all of you when you arrived, and you were asked to hide them somewhere in this house. I’ll pass out lists of all the items, and whoever can find the most will win the game. Have fun, everyone!”

“We’ll be the referees,” Joanie says, motioning to Wendy. “Someone has to sit by the open fire, though without any chestnuts to roast, and hold down the fort.”

“That sounds nice,” Wendy says with a laugh, leaning against her wife.

Andrew nods. “I think we’ll join,” he says, glancing at his Joan to confirm. “It wouldn’t be fair to compete against our students.”

“I’m joining in!” says Selvig, who has, as per usual, had several drinks already.

Jemma nudges Skye, giggling. “Look, Professor Selvig’s being himself,” she murmurs. “Or, well, his party self.”

Skye snickers. “I wonder if he’s gonna join the drinking game this year. Probably.”

“He’s remarkably respectable the other three-hundred sixty-four days and nights of the year,” Jane remarks, breezing by on Thor’s arm. “This is just his fun anomaly.”

Thor is hastily skimming the list, brow furrowed in concentration. “Where do you think Helen hid her reindeer?” he asks Jane.

“What’s the most morbid option?” Jane responds. “She has a morbid sense of humor when she’s drinking.” And they wander off contemplating.

Jemma, meanwhile, tugs on Skye’s arm, eyes gleaming. “You hear that? It’s a real game! We have to win,” she says. (She, too, is well on her way to tipsy.) “Come on, let’s go look in all of the strange places nobody else will think of.”

“Okay,” says Skye, letting herself be dragged along. She doesn’t actually give a shit about this game, but she’s hoping maybe after Jemma finds a few things she can convince her to abandon the game in favor of makeouts.

Bobbi salutes them, but she’s already on her way to the bar. “You kids have fun,” she says. “I’m going to look for holiday trinkets at the bottom of this bottle.” She holds up a bottle of whiskey in a toast before pouring herself a glass. “One step closer!”

“Well, if Bobbi’s not playing that already gives us an advantage,” Jemma says. “One, we know where she hid her nutcracker, and two, she’s one of the competitive ones! Sometimes.”

Skye nods. “Good point.” She dutifully follows Jemma in the direction of the fireplace.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my stars,” Crystal exclaims as she and Pietro and Wanda and Hope wander en masse into the drawing room. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen. Look at these sofas!”

“They’re really comfortable,” Hope says casually. “We came and hid in here for a little while last year, you practically sink into them.”

Crystal’s eyes go - well, even wider than they’ve been all night. “Can I go sit on them?” she asks in an awed whisper.

Wanda smiles. “I’m sure Anne wouldn’t mind. That’s what they’re for, after all.” She’s a little baffled by Crystal’s fascination with the furniture, but she supposes maybe Crystal’s family values function over aesthetic where furniture is concerned.

Crystal squeals, she actually squeals (she’s had more than one drink tonight, which is to say more than she’s ever had in a single night), and she goes to flop on the biggest sofa. “I’m going to check all of these for toys,” she announces. “People hide things in sofas, right?”

Pietro grins. “She’s like a child who’s never been out before,” he murmurs to Wanda. “It’s cute.”

Wanda nods. “I’m glad she’s having fun,” she replies, “but I’m sorry she’s never had these kinds of experiences before.”

“I found one!” Crystal shouts, pulling a tiny Santa hat out from between some couch cushions.

 

* * *

 

Mack makes his way over to the bar, with Bruce close behind him. Bobbi’s still drinking, though not as quickly as when she first started. “Hey,” Mack says, grinning. “Don’t have too much fun, now.”

“I won’t,” Bobbi says. “I’m the designated Lyft-er tonight. I have to at least be sober enough to deal with my phone and a driver.” She pauses to sip her drink, then looks the guys over. “What about the two of you? Are you actually playing this game?”

Bruce looks sort of embarrassed. “Not really. It’s, um…”

“We were just here to grab drinks and then go find somewhere quiet,” Mack says, also looking sort of embarrassed. “Because, y’know…”

Bobbi laughs, though not meanly. “Ah, yes, the quiet desperation of a privacy-starved single father and his man-friend,” she croons. “What’s your poison, boys?”

“Manhattan?” Bruce asks.

“Rum and Coke for me, thanks,” says Mack.

“Coming up,” Bobbi chirps. “Go for the bedroom at the farthest end of the main hall. Nobody’s in there, and I’ll make sure that keeps up for you.”

“Do the same kindness for a couple of lady-friends who, while not privacy-starved, would rather, y’know, than play scavenger hunt?” Maya croons, pulling Maria up to the bar and smiling sweetly.

“Oh, sure,” Bobbi agrees, fixing drinks as she does. “Boys in the far bedroom on the side with a red wall, girls on the gray wall. That suit you?”

Maria snorts. “Well, this definitely feels like we all paid to be here now.”

Bobbi grins and flutters her eyelashes. “Don’t think that means you get the privilege of calling me Madame,” she says. “Now go on, shoo.”

 

* * *

 

“Maybe we can look in here!” Jemma says, one hand on the doorknob into one of Anne’s guest rooms. “I bet a lot of people don’t care enough to look in the quiet rooms.”

“Yeah,” agrees Skye, then waggles her eyebrows. “Hey, I know some _other_ stuff we could do in a quiet room.”

“We can’t get distracted,” Jemma insists. “Besides, I don’t want to… befoul… Dr. Weaver’s house. That just feels too odd to contemplate.” And she opens the door…

...only to find Pam and Hope Van Dyne on the bed, doing exactly that.

“Oh!” Jemma yelps. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m - we were just looking for souvenirs, we’ll leave you alone, we’ll -”

“Relax, cupcake,” Hope says, smirking. “We’re all adults here. No harm done.”

Jemma wrinkles her nose at “cupcake,” but she nods. “Still,” she mumbles, “we’ll be moving.”

Skye giggles and pulls Jemma out of the room, shutting the door behind them. “See?” she says, giddy with the thrill and embarrassment of walking in on someone. “They had the right idea!”

Still, Jemma’s perseverance leads to them winning the ridiculous game, returning to the main room with whole handfuls of nonsense toys. “And now,” she says to Skye, smug as anything, “we can go do your fun thing, which I for the record also think is fun, in the privacy of our own place and not at my professor’s.”

“It’s cute when you think you’re whispering,” Raina announces, grinning even more when Jemma yelps in confusion.


	177. and now I'm heavy, unsteady, but maybe I'm getting ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Jarvises' Hanukkah party, it is discovered that certain guests need some TLC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, please welcome the Runaways to the fic for good this time. Their stories and Crystal's are going to have some things in common.
> 
> Also we made Old Lace a pitbull because it's a large animal that looks scary but is not.

Jarvis, who is doing a last round of tidying, starts when the doorbell rings nearly half an hour early. “Oh dear,” he says before heading for the door. He opens it and says, “Hello!” trying not to sound too harried.

“Hello!” Hope chirps. She’s still on her company manners with the Jarvises, somewhat.

“We’re early,” Wanda says apologetically. “But we wanted to, ah…” She glances back at Pietro and Crystal, who are standing behind her with an enormous bulldog.

“In case you, um, you had any concerns,” Crystal says. “He’s big but I promise he’s such a sweetie.”

Jarvis peers out, and his eyes go wide. “Oh my,” he says. “Ah, is he likely to...run about?”

“I can try telling him not to,” Crystal says, shrugging sort of helplessly. “He usually listens.”

Jarvis nods, still looking stunned. “I think it’ll be alright,” he says, only sounding a bit hesitant. “We have a rather large beast of our own.” He gathers himself, as if remembering that he’s the host, and then offers his hand. “I’m Edwin Jarvis. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you,” Crystal chirps. “I’m Crystal. Which, which Pietro might have mentioned?”

“Yes, he seems rather fond of you.” Jarvis raises his eyebrow just slightly, but doesn’t elaborate, and when neither Pietro nor Crystal elaborates he adds, “And this is...Lockjaw, is it?”

“Yeah,” Crystal agrees. “Promise he’s not as tough as he looks.” She smirks a little, because the fact that her giant dog is also the most giant softie is one of her favorite things.

Jarvis laughs a bit. “Come in, all of you. Wanda, Hope, how are you?”

“Good,” Hope says quickly, nodding and squeezing Wanda’s hand, and she’s about to continue when Raina seems to literally materialize out of the darkness and grins.

“Hey,” Raina croons. “I hope it’s okay the babies are still dragging my heathen self along for the fun.”

Jarvis blinks and says, “I’m sorry, where did you come from just now?” Because she definitely wasn’t standing there a moment ago.

Raina grins. “I was parking the car,” she says. It’s not a lie, but she also relishes the dramatic effect. “Couldn’t exactly bring the big guy on public transit.”

“Oh,” Jarvis says. “Well. Come in, then.”

Once they’re all inside, Blaze trots into the room, curious about the newcomers. “Hi!” Pietro says, scratching his ears. “He’s getting big.”

“Not as big as Lockjaw,” Jarvis says, chuckling. “He might come over and say hello, will yours be alright with that?”

“Oh, yes!” Crystal says eagerly. “He’s really friendly, and he loves making friends. A lot of dogs are kind of afraid of him, so, um, he likes the attention.” She pauses to study Blaze, smiling. “Yours is really pretty. If that’s not weird to say, I know people get weird about calling boys…”

“One, he’s a dog, he doesn’t care,” Raina interjects, though surprisingly kindly. “And two, if people get weird about that, fuck them. Or more accurately, _don’t_.”

Crystal laughs nervously. “I guess so, yeah.”

“Call him pretty all you want,” Ana says, gliding into the room with a smile. “He’s that and every other nice thing, as I’m sure yours is as well. Ana Jarvis, it’s a pleasure, dear.”

“Crystal, and likewise,” Crystal says, nodding. “Where’s Blaze like to be petted?”

“Oh, anywhere,” Ana replies cheerfully. “And yours? Does he have any special spots?”

“He’ll take pets anywhere,” Crystal explains, “but you know that silky spot on top of dogs’ heads? Start there, he loves it.”

“Glad to,” Ana coos, and she promptly takes a seat on the floor and calls Lockjaw over. He gives her some kisses before deciding to sit still for her, which he does with a thump.

“He does that too,” Pietro says with a shrug and a grin.

“I hope we’re not in the way,” Wanda adds. “We just wanted to make sure Lockjaw wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Of course not,” Ana assures them before returning to showering the dog with affection.

“Drinks?” Raina asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll stop myself before it gets dangerous, I promise.”

“Of course!” Jarvis hurries toward the kitchen, then pauses. “What can I make for you? And do any of the rest of you want…?” He tilts his head at Crystal. “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you legal drinking age? Or can I get you something else?”

“I’ll just take wine, if you’ve got it,” Raina says, at the same time Crystal’s eyes go wide and she exclaims, “I’m legal!”

“Alright,” he says, looking embarrassed. “Terribly sorry, it’s just, I’m a high school teacher, you know. What would you like to drink?”

“I understand,” Crystal says seriously. “I’d actually just rather start with juice though? Whatever kind you have is fine.”

Pietro nods. “She isn’t good at drinking yet,” he says. “Her big sister doesn’t like it.”

Jarvis raises an eyebrow, but is too polite to ask, and after Wanda and Hope just ask for water he disappears into the kitchen.

Ana glances up from Lockjaw - who’s currently laid down and rolled over to let her scratch his belly, mouth open and tongue hanging out happily - and studies Crystal curiously for a minute. She’s not too polite to ask, though she of course wants to ask politely. “Does your sister have a say in what you do all the time?”

Crystal scuffs her toe against the floor, obviously embarrassed. “Well, she pretty much raised me from when I was little,” she says hesitantly. “Our parents died when I was a kid and she’s like ten years older, so. It’s always, um, it’s always been easier to go along with her.”

Pietro makes a face. “Her sister tells her what to do a lot.”

Jarvis, coming back into the room with drinks, hears this and asks, somewhat hesitantly, “You certainly seem to have some strong opinions about her home life. Are you two…?” He glances between Pietro and Crystal.

Wanda giggles and Pietro shakes his head vehemently. “No!” he says. “We are friends.”

Crystal nods. “Good friends, I mean, he’s the first one I made outside my family, really, but - no, it’s not like that,” she says. “Um, did I just hear the door?”

“Are you just trying to distract him from this conversation being weird?” Pietro asks her, grinning.

“No, I really think I heard something,” Crystal insists. “I might be wrong, but…”

Jarvis is already heading for the door. “Oh, hello!” he says, opening the door for the newcomers.

“Hi Mr. Jarvis!” Molly says, bounding inside. “We’re not too early, are we?”

“Molly, you should wait until you’re invited inside,” calls Chase from the front steps.

“She’s alright,” Jarvis says with a chuckle. “Come in, everyone, and - oh my!” This is said once he sees the large (not as large as Lockjaw, but quite large) brown pitbull who trots in next to Gert.

“I hope it was okay for me to bring Old Lace,” Gert says, suddenly looking a little nervous. “I wasn’t going to but Dale and Stacey had an unexpected meeting and she can’t really be left alone in the house.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Jarvis says. “We have another dog guest, and as long as they all get along it’s no trouble at all.”

“Hi!” Crystal says, waving at everyone (they’re all obviously younger than her, which sort of makes her feel better in a weird way, she’s not necessarily going to be the weird baby of the group tonight) and nodding to her dog. “If she wants to come say hi to Lockjaw he’d love it. He never gets to meet dogs that are also huge.”

Old Lace perks up her ears and looks at Gert as if asking permission to go say hi, and Gert nods. “Go on,” she says, and the dog trots over to sniff at Lockjaw and Blaze. Soon all three dogs are romping around in the Jarvis’ backyard, since the living room is much too small for all three of them.

“Wow,” Victor says, looking around the Jarvis’ house. “You have a nice house, Mr. Jarvis.”

“Thank you,” Jarvis says, smiling.

“So we’ve met Wanda and Pietro before,” Karolina begins, smiling at them, “but not the others, and I don’t think they know us. Introductions? I’m Karolina.”

Nico rolls her eyes a little at Karolina’s enthusiasm, but she smirks too. “Nico.”

“I’m Xavin,” says Xavin, who’s holding Karolina’s hand. They’re wearing a button that says “they/them.”

“Gert,” Gert says with a little wave, “and this is Chase and Molly and Alex and Victor.”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember all our names,” Alex says with a grin. “There are a lot of us and we all hang out together so people get mixed up a lot.”

“I’m Hope,” says Hope, “I’m Wanda’s girlfriend. I was at the bake sale but we didn’t really talk?”

“I’m Crystal,” adds Crystal, grinning. “And my dog is Lockjaw if you forgot.”

“I’ve never heard of a dog named Lockjaw,” says Molly, giggling. “That’s a funny name. Why’s he called that?”

Crystal shrugs. “It was his name when I got him,” she says. “I know you can change dogs’ names sometimes but he already answered to it. It is kind of funny, though.”

Molly shrugs. “Gert got Old Lace’s name from some movie where old ladies poison old men,” she says. “I just wondered.”

“That sounds like an interesting movie,” Crystal says. “I’m guessing it’s good, if she, if you named your dog after it?”

“It’s pretty funny, yeah,” Chase says. “She showed it to me once. She likes it because men die in it.”

Gert shrugs. “It’s my brand.”

“Your brand?” Crystal asks, tilting her head.

“It’s kind of like a cross between what someone’s aesthetic is and what kind of person they are,” Karolina explains. “Like Nico’s is darkness and magic, and Xavin’s is practical cyberpunk.”

“And Karolina’s is rainbow princess,” Xavin says, nudging their girlfriend fondly.

Karolina blushes, but she’s clearly pleased by this. “Something like that.”

“Oh, okay,” Crystal nods. “Is it okay to not really have a brand? Yet? I don’t think I do.”

“I don’t have a brand!” chimes in Pietro. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

Wanda snickers. “Yes you do,” she says teasingly, “your brand is Adidas.”

“That’s my sneaker brand,” Pietro says, grinning back at her. “Not the same thing.”

“Does that make mine Nike?” Hope asks Wanda, smirking. “I guess it could be worse than being a victory goddess.”

“Well, I think you’re a victory goddess, anyway,” Wanda says, and then laughs like she can’t believe such she used such a cheesy line.

Pietro pokes Crystal and mimes gagging at her.

“I can see you,” Wanda says, rolling her eyes. She seems about to add something else, but then Elektra and Vanessa enter the room.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were all coming tonight,” Vanessa says to the kids, at least not expressing as much distaste as she would about most kids.

“Hi, Vanessa!” Molly says, beaming. “Is this your girlfriend? She’s really pretty.”

“Yes,” Vanessa agrees. “Darling, say hello.”

“Hello,” Elektra purrs, looking over the group of kids with an amused smile. “I’m Elektra. And aren’t you all adorable. That’s a lovely coat,” she says, glancing over at Nico.

“Thanks?” Nico says, honestly not sure if she’s being talked down to or not.

“I have something similar,” Elektra explains. “I believe Vanessa’s mentioned Gert and Chase and Molly before, but I don’t know the rest of you?”

There’s another round of introductions (during which Jarvis goes to fetch more drinks) and then Elektra says, “It’s lovely to see so many younger people so aware of themselves. Are you queer too?” she asks Gert, and it comes off as friendly and inquisitive rather than probing.

Gert makes a weird face and then says, “Um, yeah, but…”

“But?”

“Well, I’m dating him,” Gert says, gesturing at Chase. “So I don’t always feel like I count. Or like I’m betraying the community or something.”

“Hey!” Chase says. “You count.” He reaches to squeeze her hand.

Elektra is nodding. “Bisexuality counts,” she agrees. “I’ve dated men before and I may again.” She looks fondly over at Vanessa. “Right now I’m kept, though.”

“Kept is rather an understatement,” Vanessa drawls.

“Yeah, that’s enough information for us,” Nico says with a laugh.

Soon after that, Darcy and Jane and Thor arrive with Scorpio at their heels. “Hello!” Thor booms cheerfully. “My goodness, I didn’t think we were that late!”

“You’re not,” Jarvis assures him with a smile. “Some people just arrived early. Lovely to see the four of you. Would you like to take him outside with the others?” He nods at Scorpio, who’s trotted over to greet Molly (who doesn’t seem to mind at all, given how she immediately begins scratching him behind the ears).

“Sure!” Jane says eagerly, then doing a doubletake. “Wait, others? Blaze, but…?”

“I brought my dog Lockjaw,” Crystal chirps.

“And my dog Old Lace,” Gert adds. “They’re kinda having their own party out back.”

“Excellent!” Thor beams. “He won’t be lonesome at all.”

“I’m pretty sure any dog at a people party isn’t going to be lonesome,” Darcy drawls. “Hey, Jarvis, are we not boozing ‘cause of the littles?”

“You can drink,” Ana says archly, “but do try not to get _drunk_.”

“I mean, it’s not like we’ll be driving,” Alex points out hopefully. “Couldn’t I just have a _little_?”

“Certainly not,” Jarvis says, with the kind of fond snort he reserves for class.

“Haha, suckers,” Molly says, happily taking another sip from the can of Coke Jarvis brought her earlier. “ _I_ get my special drink.”

“Remember not to tell Dale and Stacey about that,” Gert says quickly. “I told them I brought organic juice for both of us.”

“Why don’t you get soda normally?” Darcy asks.

“Oh, Dale and Stacey are really into health food,” Molly replies. “It’s okay, but sometimes…” She takes a long swig of her soda, as if to make a point.

“Sometimes you just want something that tastes good?” Darcy supplies, not judgmentally.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s not as bad as my mom, though,” Nico chimes in. “She threw out all of my black nail polish because she doesn’t think it’s… I don’t know. It’s not like she wears a lot of color either. I had to mix all the other colors together to get black again.”

“My parents aren’t that bad,” Alex says with a shrug. “They just don’t like that I play video games all the time.”

“I don’t think my mom and dad actually love each other, and my mom probably doesn’t love me that much either,” Karolina sighs. “Or if she does, she loves her church more.”

“You mean her cult,” Xavin points out.

“Apparently I’m in one of those too,” Crystal chimes in, far too brightly.

“Yes she is,” Pietro adds, not unkindly.

“Oh!” Karolina exclaims. “What, you know, what is yours called?”

Crystal wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think it has a name, it’s not that organized,” she says. “Medusa likes to talk about inhumanity, though. Not being inhumane, but not being, like, of the human world.”

“Oh,” Karolina repeats, mimicking Crystal’s expression instinctively. “Wait, Medusa? Does she work at that shop that sells all the…” She pauses. “Uh, the crystals?”

“Yeah, it’s her and her husband’s shop,” Crystal agrees. “She’s my sister. I wish I could say my mom named me Crystal before that became the family business, but, uh. Technically it’s Crystal _ia_ , but that’s not something anyone has ever called me.”

“Why didn’t they call you Lia instead?” Raina asks. “Avoid the irony.”

“My family isn’t really great at avoiding irony,” Crystal sighs.

“Well, anyway, you might have seen my mom in the shop, if you’re there a lot,” Karolina continues. “She loves it, she doesn’t have to order her mystical stuff online anymore.”

“I’m sure it helps with her tantric yoga sessions,” Gert says, with a completely straight face.

“Yeah, and some of you guys already know about how my dad is,” Chase says, looking like he’s trying not to look too sad.

“Oh dear,” Jarvis says. “I had no idea…”

Raina sighs. “I should never have children, but I want to adopt all of you right now,” she says.

Molly beams over at her. “I already got adopted once, but thank you!”

Wanda and Pietro glance at each other, then at Crystal, and smirk significantly.

“Hanukkah charades!” Ana exclaims, clearly trying to change the subject. “My husband seems to think that might go better than Hanukkah Pictionary did.”

There’s a few snickers throughout the room, and most people look either resigned or suspicious, but Molly grins. “I love charades! Can I go first?”

 

* * *

 

Charades lasts for about four rounds, and then most of the adults peel off to drink and talk. “Man, if I had known we had littles to entertain I’d have come as the Hanukkah Fairy,” Darcy says. “They all seem like they need a little fairy dust. Not in a drug way.”

“Nobody thought you meant in a drug way,” Jane rolls her eyes.

“Is there a Grinch for Hanukkah?” Raina asks, nibbling a dreidel-shaped sugar cookie. “You don’t really see a lot of Hanukkah characters, but I might just have missed the memo.” That’s said sarcastically since she doesn’t really miss memos.

“I don’t think so?” Wanda asks, very confused.

“Antiochus,” Darcy deadpans. “He’s the Hanukkah Grinch. But instead of stealing presents, he stole people’s lives.”

“Point taken,” Raina smirks.

“I guess...you’re not...wrong?” Wanda asks, sounding like she’s not sure how to respond to that.

Eventually the party starts to wind down, and most people begin leaving. “I guess...we should...call a Lyft,” Alex says, sounding reluctant. “Chase, you get Gert and Molly and Old Lace in the Leapfrog.”

Molly looks at him with the saddest eyes possible. “I don’t wanna go home yet! It’s more fun here! Can we stay here tonight, Mr. Jarvis? It’ll be like a sleepover!” She looks up at him pleadingly. “I bet if you called Dale and Stacey they’d be okay with it.”

“Mr. Jarvis has stuff to do, Mol,” Gert says, but she doesn’t look entirely opposed to the idea of not going home either.

Jarvis, with the guiltiest expression possible, looks at Ana. “Er,” he says, “I mean, I’m not sure it’s the best-”

“We could take them home with us!” Pietro says. “The Yorkes and the Steins know us from synagogue and I bet we could convince the other parents. We’re very responsible.” He puts on his most angelic face.

“Our house isn’t the biggest,” agrees Wanda, “but we have a living room and couch cushions and an air mattress. If you all don’t mind being a little crowded?”

“We’ve literally had sleepovers in Chase’s van before,” Gert says. “Crowded’s not an issue.”

“I think that sounds really fun,” Karolina says.

“And hey, we were already sleeping over,” Hope adds, nodding to herself and Crystal. “If any of you don’t want to get walked on by a cat in the middle of the night, we can just keep Cardboard Box in our, um, in Wanda’s room.”

Wanda looks first startled and then pleased at Hope’s slip of the tongue, then leans over to kiss Hope’s cheek. “Of course,” she says softly, squeezing Hope’s hand, then adds for the benefit of the others, “Cardboard Box is our cat. He’s a nice cat, but he likes to wander during the night.”

“Oh, I love cats!” Molly says, perking up. “We can’t get one because Old Lace might eat it, but I have stuffed cats instead.”

“Well, ours loves attention,” Pietro says, grinning. “Too much, I think.”

A few phone calls later (most of the parents seem happy their kids have made more friends, and even though Karolina’s mom seems somewhat reluctant at first, she agrees when Karolina mentions Crystal will be there) everything is settled. “Thank you,” Jarvis says quietly to Wanda and Pietro as the high schoolers are getting into Chase’s van and packing up to wait for their Lyft, respectively. “I knew some of them didn’t have the best home lives, but I had no idea…”

Wanda nods. “They seem very nice,” she says. “We just want to help.”

“Round up the bulldog,” Raina calls, chuckling. “If you’re playing host-and-hostesses, I should get you back to home base in time.”


	178. hang on to the reverie, could you do that for me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mall's annual gift exchange takes place.

“Hey, everybody!” Sam calls, trying to bring the Applebee’s to order. This is easier said than done, since some people have already started drinking, but eventually they all quiet down and turn their attention to him, Steve, and Sharon. “Cool. Welcome to the fourth annual mall Secret Santa gift exchange! For the newbies, this is how it’s gonna work. We’ll draw a name out of this hat-” he holds up a large Santa hat “-and whoever that is is gonna be receiving their gift. The person who bought it for them should get up and give it to them, or pass it to them somehow, whichever works better. And so on. Pretty simple.”

“First up,” Steve announces, pulling a name, “is Joey!”

Joey beams and looks around expectantly. “Over here, I’m coming,” Candace calls, laughing. She’s sitting on just about the direct opposite side of the restaurant, so it takes her a minute to work her way over, but she does, plopping a nice Starbucks gift bag down on the table.

Joey tilts his head and rummages around in the gift bag, pulling out a bag of fancy tea. “Oh, thank you!” he says. “I’ve been meaning to try more teas.”

“I mean, I’m pretty fond, not just ‘cause I get them cheap,” Candace shrugs cheerfully.

Sam pulls out the next name, then says, “Oops!” and runs over to the table Natasha and Bucky are sitting at, where there’s a little pile of gifts. “Jessica, this is for you,” he says, grabbing one of the gifts and going over to where she’s sitting alongside Luke and Trish.

Jessica looks sort of wary, but takes the bag from him and then looks inside. “Huh,” she says, pulling out a pair of knitting needles, some black-and-purple yarn, and a book called _Stitch n’ Bitch: The Knitter’s Handbook._

Sam shrugs. “I know it can be relaxing. I thought it might help you out.”

“Thanks,” Jessica says, sounding somewhat unconvinced, but she packs it all back in the bag carefully.

“Next up is Tegan!” Sharon announces, grinning.

“Oh!” exclaims Crystal, who was invited to participate in this to round out numbers even though she’s not technically a mall employee. Medusa couldn’t argue because it was an excuse to share something from their store, which isn’t quite proselytizing but is damn close; as such, she offers Tegan a small box wrapped in obviously recycled paper, smiling shyly. “I’m kind of guessing, but, um, this seemed like something you’d like?”

Tegan smiles encouragingly as she carefully tears the paper open. Like everyone, she’s been alerted to the Crystal… situation; like many, she feels that as a slightly larger queer it’s her responsibility to help the small queer acclimatize. “No, it’s really cool,” she says eagerly, no faking, when she pulls a small but ornate silver ear cuff out of the box. “I like that it doesn’t need piercings to use. I’m too lazy to pierce my cartilage, even though I like how it looks.”

Crystal grins, relieved. “It’s one-of-a-kind, technically,” she says, babbling a little. “I mean, the design has been made a couple dozen times but it’s handmade by a local artisan so every one of them’s a little different.”

“Thanks,” Tegan assures. “It’s neat.” And it is, and she’s not even just saying that because she’s comparing it in her head to the other gifts that might have come from Crystal’s family’s store.

“Next up is Hela!” calls Sam.

Hela is sitting by herself at a table in the corner of the bar area, doing something on her phone, and it’s painfully obvious that she wouldn’t be here if her family hadn’t insisted on the premise that it was a nice, normal, and even mildly virtuous activity. (That’s not what they said but it’s what they meant.) “Yes, let’s get on with it,” she says dryly, glancing up.

That should have scared whoever gave her a gift off, but it happens to be Jessica, who is not scared of Ms. “All Shall Tremble Before Me” at all. Jessica just saunters over, holding a completely unsubtle bag that’s tall and skinny. “Here,” she says, overly casual.

“Straightforward,” Hela remarks, pulling the bottle of whiskey out. “And useful enough, I suppose.” This is close enough to a compliment.

“Next, Skye!” Steve announces.

Skye waves - she and Jemma and Bobbi and Trip are crammed into one of the corner booths with a few other people. Mike is only a couple tables away, so it doesn’t take long for him to make his way over to her. As usual, his package is shaped suspiciously like a Build-a-Bear box.

Skye’s grinning as she tears off the paper and pulls out a plush Yoshi. “Oh my god!” she yelps. “He’s so cute!”

“I thought you’d like him,” says Mike fondly.

“Vanessa!” Sharon calls.

Tegan slips out of her seat and goes over to Vanessa and Elektra’s table with a smirk. “I hope it’s okay,” she says. “I didn’t want to… Christmas paper. Because it’s not for Christmas. Just, you know. Happy you’re awesome, or whatever.”

Vanessa smiles indulgently, opening the plain gold paper with a fingernail. “I appreciate your candor,” she says, not sarcastically. Upon uncovering the small letter opener and chic-looking stationery set, she adds, “Very nice, dear.”

Tegan can’t help but blush as she returns to her seat and whispers to Darcy, “Thanks for the advice.”

The next name Sam calls out is “Laura!”

Both Laura and Clint look half-awake (which no one is surprised by, Cooper is barely a month old) but Laura smiles a bit tiredly. “Hi,” she says, raising her hand like it’s school.

Alex, the high schooler who recently started at Best Buy and has been hanging around the mall a little more with his friends lately, gets up to give her a meticulously wrapped box. “You might not be able to use this right away,” he says, like an apology. “But I thought you might like it ‘cause…”

Laura’s already gotten most of the paper off and beams at it. “It’s a little cat toy! For babies. Well, twelve to twenty-four months, but still.”

“Woah,” Clint says, squinting at the box. “It runs away from the kid and everything. Just like the real thing!”

Alex shrugs. “It seemed cool. I guess he won’t be able to do anything with it for awhile, but-”

“It’s great,” Laura says. “Thank you so much!”

“Darcy’s up,” Steve says.

“So as memes go this is kind of old-school,” Kara begins, going over to Darcy’s table with a smirk, “but pretty classic, I think.”

Darcy opens the present to reveal a pair of knee socks printed with… a repeated pattern of the smiling doge. “Much classic,” she agrees, smirking. “Very fashion. Wow.”

When Pietro’s name is called next, he looks around expectantly until Akela stands up. “I’m sorry in advance,” she says dryly to Wanda.

It turns out to be because the bag is full of bags of candy. “Ooh!” Pietro says, eyes gleaming. “Thank you!”

“Oh dear,” sighs Wanda.

“Luke!” Sharon exclaims.

Trish slides a box across their table, grinning wickedly. “Surprise,” she says.

Luke gives her a wary look before carefully opening the box. When he sees whatever is inside, his eyebrows go up in unison and he quickly shuts the box. “Of course,” he says, snorting.

Jessica nudges Trish. “Is that what I think it is?”

“You better believe it,” Trish replies, the picture of smugness.

Sam chuckles (he suspects it was something sexy that Luke’s not going to share) before drawing the next name. “Pepper!”

Hela sighs. “Here,” she drawls, going over to give Pepper a small gift bag. “It seemed… passable.”

“High praise,” Pepper remarks, but it’s a couple of lipsticks from Sephora, so while it was obviously just “grab the first thing she found at work” it wasn’t the worst outcome by a long shot. “They’re definitely passable,” she adds, smirking.

“Good,” Hela replies, blinking. Is she supposed to smile in return? She’s not really sure.

“Next is Trip!” Steve calls.

Wanda brings him a gift bag, which turns out to contain a tribble plushie. “It makes noise,” Wanda says, “see, if you push this button…”

Trip does, and it vibrates and chirps. “Oh my god,” he says, his grin widening. “That’s so cool!”

Wanda nods, smiling. “I tried it out a little when it first arrived in the mail. My cat was not happy about it.”

“Lorelei,” Sharon announces, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” Val says, standing and swaggering (no other word for it) over to the bar where, like always, Lorelei and Raina (and now Aida) are sitting and looking impossibly chic. If you like that sort of thing. “Wasn’t sure what a girl like you was in the market for these days, so I figured this would do.”

Lorelei doesn’t seem at all surprised to pull a clearly classy bottle of vodka out of the bag Val offers. “Always, sweet thing,” she croons.

Sam pulls the next name out of the hat and has to stifle his laughter. “Hunter,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“That’s me,” Sharon chirps, practically skipping over to hand him a gift bag.

Hunter looks extremely wary, only slightly less so when he’s unwrapped a glass that has three lines on the outside, labeled, from lowest to highest, GOOD DAY, BAD DAY, and DON’T ASK. “Thanks,” he says, smirking. “Seems about right.”

“Thought so,” Sharon replies cheerfully.

“Oh, Irani’s next,” Steve calls, tilting his head. It’s always interesting to see how people handle giving gifts to the senior authority figures of the mall.

Irani tilts her head, curious, and Lorelei twirls around to pass her a telltale pink envelope. “I didn’t want to presume,” she says. “But I figured this was a good idea no matter what.”

Irani glances inside, then gives Lorelei a polite smile. “Thank you,” she says. “As an adult I’ve come to appreciate the idea of underwear for Christmas.”

“I mean, it’s pretty useful all year,” Lorelei chuckles, “but I see what you mean.”

“Elektra’s up,” Sharon announces.

Elektra tosses her hair and smirks. “On my way,” Jane says, looking slightly intimidated as she hands the small bag over. “I, ah, asked Vanessa for some advice.”

“I’m sure she was helpful,” purrs Elektra as she pulls out tissue paper to reveal an elegant red silk scarf. “It’s lovely, thank you,” she says with a smile that actually seems genuine. “I’m sure I’ll be able to think of a fun use for it.”

“Yeah, that was the impression I was getting,” Jane replies, trying not to roll her eyes because that’s way more than she needed to know but it’s not like she didn’t already know it. “You’re welcome, anyway.”

Sam snorts before drawing the next name. “Oh, it’s you, babe,” he says, grinning over at Sharon.

Hannah grins and jumps up from her seat. “So I know it’s kind of cheesy, but I saw it online and thought of you guys,” she says before handing Sharon a suspiciously squishy present.

It turns out to be a custom pillow with five stick figures, two girls and three boys, labeled with Sharon and her partners’ names. “Aw, it’s just the right kind of cheesy,” she promises. “Look, you guys! It’s us.”

While Sam and Steve are making appreciative noises, Hannah adds, “I was going to put the animals, too, but there wasn’t enough room for all of them and I didn’t want to play favorites.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky calls with a laugh. “There’s a lot of them. They’d probably take up their own pillow.”

“Hey, Sam, you’re next,” Steve says fondly.

“Oh!” Sam looks pleased, and Irani comes up to bring him a very classy-looking bag. “I hope it’s not too much,” she says, looking almost apologetic.

Sam pulls out a _very_ fancy gold-trimmed watch, and he says, “Wow, thank you,” looking a little stunned.

“I pulled some strings, it was still within the price point,” murmurs Irani with a wink.

Sharon nods appreciatively. “You deserve nice things,” she reminds him. “And continuing the theme, Bucky’s next.”

Carina’s giggling as she stands up and goes over to Bucky and Natasha’s table. “I’m not sure how useful it is,” she says, “but it’s cool, I think.”

Bucky unwraps a lamp shaped like a Pac-Man ghost and says, “Wow!”

“It lights up and changes color,” Carina enthuses. “It’s very, y’know. Rainbow-colored.”

“Nice!” Bucky immediately starts fiddling with it.

Sam grins fondly at his boyfriend and then announces, “Thor!”

“Over here!” Thor says with a wide grin and a wave.

“Oh, I know,” says Elena teasingly as she makes her way over to him. “Here. Although it’s more for your dog than you.”

Thor still looks excited when he pulls out a rope toy and a stuffed fox toy. “He’ll love them, thank you!”

“There isn’t any stuffing in the fox,” Elena adds. “I don’t know if your dog destroys things, but the one I had as a child loved to do that.”

“Trish’s turn!” Steve calls.

Melinda gets up and hands Trish a simply-wrapped box. “Thought these might be useful,” she says with a little smirk.

Trish looks interested as she tears into the wrapping and absolutely thrilled when she gets the box open. “They’re awesome!” she exclaims, holding up the pair of pink fighting gloves for everyone to see. “I’m excited to break them in. In the _gym_ ,” she adds, rolling her eyes at Jessica before she can say anything. Jessica just blows her a raspberry.

“They’re good gloves,” says Melinda. “I have a pair. Let me know if you want any tips.”

“I will, promise,” Trish replies, nodding.

“Bereet’s up,” Sharon announces. As she sits in her seat (a high barstool in front of the crowd, between her boys) she’s taken to hugging her new pillow proudly.

Luckily, Hope V. happens to be sitting somewhat near Bereet, so she can just pass her the present, explaining, “I know it’s not perfect, but I figured you could use the tips.”

“Uh?” Bereet murmurs before the box is open, and once she’s pulled out the present, an advice book called _So You Want to Be a Lesbian?_ , she wrinkles her nose. “I mean, I appreciate the thought, but I’m… not a lesbian?”

“I know,” Hope says, rolling her eyes, “but they still don’t make _So You Realized You’re Bisexual But You’ve Never Done Girls Before_. I figured this was the part you needed the instructions for.”

“Thanks, I think?” Bereet laughs, shrugging sort of sheepishly.

“T’Challa’s next!” calls Sam.

“It’s not a particularly original gift tonight, but it never fails,” Vanessa drawls, going to hand T’Challa a fancy wine bag.

T’Challa chuckles. “Still, it’s much appreciated,” he says, nodding approvingly after glancing at the label.

“Helen!” Steve announces.

“I wasn’t sure,” Coulson says, getting up to give her his gift, “but I thought this might be fun.” He gives her a hopeful smile.

Helen blinks at the gift once it’s open, then giggles a little. “Oh, I remember when you came in for this! I was certainly curious,” she remarks, surveying the periodic element-themed Jenga set.

“Oh!” Coulson looks a little embarrassed. “I was hoping you’d either forget or not connect the dots.”

“It’s alright,” Helen promises, smirking. “This will make for an entertaining drinking game.”

Coulson beams. “Good! Enjoy.”

“Next up is Mike,” Sharon declares.

“So in typical tradition it’s for you and Ace both,” Bobbi explains, handing Mike a package. “Actually, I should say they’re, since it’s more than one thing. Both kickass.”

“Ooh,” Mike says, carefully unwrapping it. “Woah, a Pokeball pizza cutter! That’s awesome, we’ve been needing a new one anyway. And awww.” He grins at the BB-8 cake mold. “Thank you! We’ll have fun with this.”

“I figured as much,” Bobbi chuckles. “I’ve been enjoying mine.”

Sam pulls out another name. “Maya’s turn!”

“Over here,” Maya chirps, waving playfully. She and Maria are sitting by themselves at a small table and she’s definitely tipsy by this point.

Hogun brings her a carefully wrapped box. “Here,” he says. “You won’t have heard of this, but you’ll like it.”

Maya opens it to reveal a DVD set of something called _The Middleman_. “I haven’t,” she concedes. “What’s it about?”

“A secret organization. Aliens. Parallel dimensions. Cursed artifacts.” Hogun shrugs and smirks slightly. “Hard to explain. Just watch it.”

“Is it funny?” Maya asks.

“It made him laugh out loud, and he never laughs!” calls Fandral.

Hogun rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yes.”

“Next up is Bruce,” Steve says.

T’Challa hands him a very small box. “Sorry about the size,” he says with a shrug, “but I thought you might like this.”

“It’s fine,” Bruce assures him. It turns out to be a USB hub designed like an arrow pad on a classic video game controller. “Oh wow! That’s cool. Thank you, I always need more of these.”

T’Challa nods in satisfaction. “You’re very welcome.”

“Hey, Steve, it’s you,” Sharon says, teasingly nudging him.

Trip brings him what turns out to be a set of oil sticks. “I know you like drawing and stuff,” Trip says with a shrug, “I thought these seemed pretty cool.”

“Oh!” Steve exclaims, beaming. “They are. Thank you so much! I’ve been meaning to work on this kind of thing more.”

“Oh, he’ll have fun with those,” Sam says fondly. “Victoria’s up next.”

Bruce looks slightly intimidated, but gives Victoria a present. ‘This is actually very useful,” Victoria declares, pulling out what’s described as an anywhere phone magnet. “Thank you.”

“I thought so,” Bruce says, smiling. “You’re welcome.”

“Next is big Hope,” Steve announces.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, exactly,” Ian murmurs as he hands Hope a fancy envelope, “but I figured you could use it for something nice?” He looks very hopeful that this might be true.

“I will,” she assures him when she pulls out a gift certificate for Ian’s own store. “I’m always meaning to buy more books.”

“Hey, Tash, you’re up,” Sharon calls, smirking.

“Oh!” Jemma yelps, and she jumps out of her seat, blushing wildly. “I know they’re silly, but if anyone can make use of them it’s you, I think?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow as she unwraps her gift, which turns out to be a tiny sweater and a tutu, both obviously meant for a cat. “Oh Jesus,” she says with a laugh. “Where did you _find_ these?”

“These ones specifically? Etsy,” Jemma says. “I’ve tried to get Griffith into some things before, though never tulle. But I thought that was, ah, appropriate?” She makes a face, though all she’s implying is that since Natasha is a ballerina and wears tutus her cat should as well.

Chuckling, Natasha nods. “Thanks. She’ll hate me, but I’ll try to get at least one picture before she bites me and runs into the closet.”

“That’s the cat-owner way,” Jemma says sagely.

Sam is snickering as he pulls out the next name. “Bobbi!”

Hunter, who looks as if he’s being led to the gallows, stands up and walks over to offer Bobbi a gift bag. “Here,” he says.

Bobbi resists the urge to roll her eyes, but she opens the bag, very aware of Skye and Jemma both trying to see _into_ the bag before everyone else. “Uh,” she hisses, “what the fuck?”

Hunter looks somehow both affronted and afraid at the same time. “I thought you’d like it, it’s _Star Wars_ ,” he says petulantly.

“What _is_ it?” Skye asks, tilting her head.

This time Bobbi _does_ roll her eyes, pulling a sports bra out of the bag and showing it to the entire room. It admittedly does have a _Star Wars_ logo on it, and she can imagine buying it for herself, but… “There are some things ex-husbands shouldn’t do,” she announces.

“Oh, dear,” Jemma sighs.

“I remembered your size!” protests Hunter, sort of half-heartedly.

“I mean, I guess it’s good he didn’t think your bra size was seven,” snarks Skye.

“Just sit down,” Bobbi says, obviously beleaguered.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, chuckling as he pulls another name. “Moving on, it’s Rosalind’s turn.”

“Do your worst,” Rosalind says brightly.

Heimdall puts a tall gift bag in front of her. “I had to guess,” he says, “but I hope it’s to your liking.”

Rosalind smiles, obviously relieved, before she’s even got all of the presents - wine and chocolates, but platonic ones, obviously - out. “Very much,” she assures him. “It’s appreciated.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. “Enjoy them.”

“Malcolm’s up!” Sharon announces.

“Pardon how slightly generic it is, but I figured better safe than sorry,” Raina explains as she saunters over to Malcolm’s table. (This is the nice way of saying she walked into Yankee Candle and said to Laura, “help me find a gift for a normal person.”)

Malcolm grins. “It’s okay!” His gift turns out to be a wax warmer that lights up to cast silhouettes of trees on the wall. “Ooh, that’s cool. My apartment always kinda smells weird so I’ve been meaning to buy candles anyway.”

“Well, this one is significantly more aesthetically appealing, too,” Raina says, clearly pleased that it wasn’t a complete shot in the dark. She knows enough about Malcolm to know that she didn’t want to get him garbage, but also enough to know that he wouldn’t like most of her starter gifts.

“It’s Hope S.’s turn!” says Sam.

“It’s silly but I thought it was charming,” Helen declares, passing Hope a package.

It turns out to contain a purple scarf that looks like an alligator (head at one end, tail at the other) and Hope grins. “It’s great! Not too heavy for morning runs,” she promises. “Thank you!”

“Of course,” Helen says.

“Hey, it’s Loki’s turn,” Steve says, a little wary.

Loki looks around, somehow defiant, expectant, and wary at the same time. Volstagg brings him what is clearly a wrapped Tupperware container. “Here you are,” he says with a slightly strained smile.

Loki opens it and pulls out one of the cookies, which turn out to be the shape of the anarchy symbol. “How...thoughtful,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised.

“You’re welcome,” Volstagg says.

“Elena!” Sharon calls.

Her gift is from Rhodey. “I hope I got the right kind,” he says. “I don’t really know much about it, but Jessica helped.”

Elena looks confused until she unwraps a set of paintbrushes. “Oh, these are very nice!” she says, beaming. “Thank you!”

Relieved, Rhodey grins back. “Have fun.”

“Maria!” announces Sam.

Maria gives a little wave, and Steve hops up to pass her a well-insulated box. “Kinda guessing, but it seemed like an okay idea,” he says with a smirk.

“Alright,” Maria says with a smirk. She gently pulls out a cookie jar covered in hand-painted designs. “Ooh, that’s nice. Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “I’m glad you like it. Obviously you don’t have to use it for cookies if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I will,” Maria corrects, grinning. “I know a little girl who’s gonna be excited about that.”

“Good,” Steve grins before heading back up to the other two to draw the next name. “Sif!”

Nico and Alex have been sort of hiding this whole time - as the only babies in the bunch, they haven’t wanted to get in the way, except when Alex had his gift to give - but this prompts Nico to slide out of her seat with a simultaneously awestruck and horrified look on her face. “Yeah, so,” she mumbles as she makes her way over to Sif’s table, “I’m Nico and I started part-time at the art store and I hope this isn’t totally lame. Here.”

Sif laughs, not unkindly. “Nice to meet you, Nico.” She can tell that, even though Nico’s obviously partnered, she’s at least intimidated by and probably slightly infatuated with her, which is ridiculously charming. Nico’s gift turns out to be a to-go mug that says MALE TEARS on it, which makes Sif laugh out loud again. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Where did you find this?”

“Online,” Nico says quickly. “It was sort of an impulse buy, but it seemed… yeah.”

“Thank you,” Sif says. Melinda nudges her and smirks, equally amused by Sif’s new fangirl, and Sif winks at her.

Sharon’s amused too, clearly, but decides the polite thing to do is to move it along. “Ian’s next,” she says.

Fandral, looking smug, makes his way over to the table where Ian’s sitting. “Here you go,” he says, offering his gift. “I think this might be useful for you.”

Ian makes a face. “I already… have a lady,” he says, glancing pointedly at Darcy and then at the book (a guide to picking up ladies).

Fandral shrugs. “I’m sure you could use _more._ ”

“I’m actually pretty well occupied right now, thanks,” Ian grimaces.

Sam, subtly rolling his eyes, gets out the next name. “Fury!”

“Oh great,” mutters Fury. “Let’s get this over with. I’m ready for bed.”

“Hopefully these are right up your alley,” Pepper says as she goes to hand him a package, smiling with just a hint of playfulness but mostly respect.

Fury looks slightly less distrustful as he unwraps several pairs of plain socks (white, grey, and black). “Thanks,” he says with a faint smile. “Can always use more of these.”

“Wow,” Tony mutters to Rhodey, “how _boring_.”

Rhodey snorts. “I mean, it made him happy. Or something like it.”

“Rhodey, hey, you’re next,” Steve says with a fond nod.

“Mm, go give him his present?” Rosalind says to Coulson, nudging him. Rhodey’s across the room, but it’s really more because she hasn’t reminded everyone that Coulson’s her pet all night and she’s just intoxicated enough to be a little shameless. As Coulson goes over, then, she calls, “It’s classic, but if you want to trade it let me know.”

It turns out to be tea, which isn’t exactly a shocker, but Rhodey looks pleased anyway. “This is fine,” he says cheerfully. “I like this kind.”

“Billy’s up,” Sharon declares.

Billy grins and waves from where he’s seated next to his brother Eric. Eric giggles and hands his brother a bag. “Here you go!”

“What? Oh my god.” Billy digs into the bag to reveal a _Star Wars_ beach towel. “Awesome!”

“I knew you’d like it,” says Eric with satisfaction.

“Coulson!” calls Sam.

Thor makes his way to Coulson, handing him an envelope. “I was unsure which direction to go in, but I hope this helps you find something you like,” he says.

Coulson tilts his head, but he smiles when the envelope contains a Men’s Warehouse gift card. “Thanks,” he says, looking over at Rosalind with obvious relief. It’s not that he can’t pick out his own clothes, but...

“Melinda’s turn!” Steve announces.

The package Malcolm brings Melinda is very long and weirdly-shaped. “I figured you might like this,” he says with a shrug.

Melinda raises an eyebrow. “Alright.” She carefully pulls off the paper to reveal an umbrella whose handle is shaped like a katana hilt. She nods approvingly. “Good call. I do.”

“That turn into a real sword?” Val asks, leaning forward curiously.

“No, sorry,” says Malcolm with a nervous laugh. “It looks cool, though.”

“I bet I can figure something out,” Melinda says. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Jemma, you’re up!” Sharon calls.

Skye claps her hands and shoves the rather large gift bag in her lap at Jemma. “Here!” she says, grinning. “Oh my god, you have no idea how hard it was to keep this a secret. It’s been _killing_ me.”

“It really has,” Bobbi chimes in, smirking. “I haven’t heard the end of it.”

Jemma laughs, but a little bit too high-pitched, like she’s a little nervous this won’t be appropriate to share with the class or something. She doesn’t really expect that, but… once the thought crosses her mind it won’t go away. “I’m proud of you, then,” she replies with a smile, worrying her lip as she starts to pull tissue paper from the bag. And then her eyes go wide and she actually starts to tear up a little.

“What is it?” Tony asks. “An engagement ring? C’mon, we wanna know!”

“Don’t be daft,” Jemma retorts, though there’s not much snap to it. Not daft because that’s never going to happen, but daft because it wouldn’t happen with so many eyes on them. Instead she pulls a zip-up white jacket with a cape on the back and a gray belt printed on the front, and, overjoyed, she explains, “It’s Princess Leia!”

“Oh,” Tony says, obviously disappointed. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because it’s Princess Leia,” Jemma repeats, rolling her eyes even as she smiles. Then she leans to kiss Skye, more passionately than she’d usually do with all of these people watching. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

Skye kisses back, and then whispers, “I love you.”

“I know,” Jemma replies softly, grinning.

“Thanks for liking space movies with me, Jem.”

“Always.”

Sam is smiling, but he clears his throat because Jemma and Skye are clearly having a _moment_ and draws the next name. “Volstagg!”

Aida turns around gracefully and goes to Volstagg’s table, passing him a box. “If you already have one, I imagine an extra won’t be a waste,” they say.

“No, it certainly won’t,” Volstagg says, grinning after he unwraps a gorgeous marble rolling pin. “Thank you very much!” He offers his hand for an enthusiastic shake.

“You’re very welcome,” Aida replies, blinking with some good-natured surprise but putting their hand in Volstagg’s.

“Jane, you’re up!” Steve calls.

“I don’t know if you play much,” Bereet begins, handing Jane a small box, “but it’s really cute and it seems like you’d be into it.”

Jane tilts her head in curiosity, but then she opens a DS game called _Animal Crossing_. “I’m pretty much the opposite of a gamer, but this looks cute,” she agrees, smiling and nudging Thor. “I’m sure I can borrow this guy’s console to play sometimes.”

“Of course!” Thor says. “I’ve seen Volstagg’s children play that game, it seems delightful. You’ll enjoy it.”

“Raina’s up!” says Sharon.

Raina whirls around with a smirk like a dare, and Tony comes over, looking a bit paler than usual. “So, I had no idea what to buy for you,” he says candidly. “But here.” He just hands her a bill.

“This is definitely above the price limit,” Raina remarks, smirking as she holds up a hundred-dollar bill. “But it’s appreciated.”

Tony shrugs. “I figure you’ll be better at picking something out than I will.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Candace!” says Sam.

“They’re goofy, but hey,” Laura says, passing Candace a present.

“They’re _adorable_ ,” Candace corrects, grinning as she holds up a pair of knee socks with otters holding hands on them. “And hey, everyone needs socks.”

“Hey, Clint’s turn,” Steve calls.

“Here, nerd,” Natasha says, handling Clint what is obviously a wrapped calendar.

Clint grins once the paper is off. “Oh my god!” He turns it around to show everyone - it’s a calendar called JEDI’S FIRST YEAR.

“Aw,” Laura coos. “That’s so cute!”

“Did you do this, Bobbi?” calls Clint playfully. “I feel like this is your fault.”

“Nah, man,” Bobbi replies, laughing. “This was just an inevitability. Happy belated Life Day.”

Clint snorts. “We _did_ get the onesie you sent,” he says with a sigh. “Did you have that custom made?”

“What do you think?”

“What’s Life Day?” Tony asks, clearly baffled. “Is that just a really stupid way to say birthday or something?”

“It’s a Wookiee holiday!” Skye calls. “First introduced in the _Star Wars Holiday Special,_ aired for the first and only time on November 17th, 1978.”

“Which is also Cooper’s birthday,” says Clint, rolling his eyes. “Which Bobbi informed me immediately. And then sent him a onesie that says ‘happy Life Day.’”

“I just saw this at the store and it was cute,” says Natasha smugly. “There wasn’t a Wookiee version.”

“Fandral’s turn,” Sharon says with a raised eyebrow.

This year it’s Hope S. who gets up to give him a present, large and flat. Fandral looks very smug up until he gets the paper off, and then he just looks puzzled. “‘ABSOLUTELY STOP’?” he reads, tilting his head.

Hope makes a face, wrinkling her nose and glancing back to first her roommate Darcy and then her girlfriend Wanda, begging for help. Darcy just calls, “You brought it on yourself, dude.”

“It means stop acting like your advances are the ultimate compliment,” adds Wanda.

Fandral pouts. “Well, there’s no need to be _rude_.”

“It’s not rude if it’s the truth,” says Wanda with a shrug.

Sam, looking like he’s trying not to laugh, says, “Hogun’s turn!”

“Hey again,” Maya says with a little laugh. “Imagine this, huh?” She goes to hand Hogun a big gift bag.

Hogun says nothing, but the corners of his mouth turn up slightly, and more when he pulls out a pair of Snorlax slippers. “They snore,” he says, seeming pleased.

“That’s what he does, right?” Maya asks, shrugging.

“Yes. These seem very comfortable. Thank you.”

“Next up, Crystal!” Steve announces, giving the girl in question one of his most reassuring smiles.

It’s Victoria who stands up and goes to hand Crystal, just saying, “Open it, then I’ll explain.”

“Okay!” Crystal replies, staring up at Victoria in awe. It turns out to be a gift certificate - one that’s definitely not in the price point, but she’s not going to complain, just feel even more awed - inside a brochure for a hair salon downtown, with one of the stylists’ names highlighted. “Thank you, my goodness! This is so generous.”

Victoria smiles, though it’s a little condescending on accident (she can’t really help it). “Here’s the deal,” she says. “Whenever you get your… whatever sorted out, you give Fallon a call. She’ll give you the real salon experience and she’ll help you fix…” Here she pauses and gestures vaguely in the direction of Crystal’s hair stripes. “She knows what she’s doing, and if you’re going to commit to unusual hair you need a steady someone to style it.”

“Oh,” Crystal squeaks, clearly a little overwhelmed. “Um, thank you? I…” She trails off. What she’s thinking is that she’s shocked that so many people seem concerned not only with the state of her life but the state of her hairstyle, but that seems a little too much to say to someone she doesn’t really know. Instead she just repeats, “Thank you.”

“She’s much nicer to you than she is to me,” Pietro whispers once Crystal has sat back down. “Do you think it’s because you both like girls?”

“I don’t know how she’d know that,” Crystal says, bewildered.

“Maybe she can sense it,” says Pietro with a giggle.

“Is that a _thing_?”

“Kara’s next,” Sharon calls.

Loki gets up and makes his way over to Kara. He’s looking slightly less disgusted than usual. “Here,” he says, offering her a bag.

Going by that expression Kara’s pretty sure she’s still getting the pity vote, but if Loki was her Secret Santa-or-Whatever she’s fine with that. The gift turns out to be a blanket, clearly from Hot Topic, with _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ ’ Sally on it, and because he actually tried to be polite she resists the urge to act surprised that he remembered. Instead she just manages an actual honest-to-goodness smile and says, “Thanks, Loki. That’s really thoughtful.”

He looks vaguely uncomfortable and ducks his head. “Yes, well. I thought…” And then after an awkward pause, he slinks back to his seat without another word.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Karen asks Kara under her breath.

“Maybe,” Kara says with a smirk.

“Aida!” calls Sam.

Bucky brings their present over. “I had to guess on some of the colors,” he says with a shrug. “I can exchange any you don’t like.”

Between that and Bucky’s place of employment Aida can pretty well guess the gift is makeup, but they’re not sure what to expect beyond that (Bucky himself seems most fond of eye shadow, which isn’t their thing, but who knows). It turns out to be nail polish, though, several bottles, which makes them smile genuinely. “These are nice,” they assure him. “I like the silver especially.”

“Oh good,” says Bucky, grinning. “Enjoy! That’s my favorite brand.”

“I will, thank you!” Aida replies brightly.

“Heimdall’s up,” Steve says.

Heimdall looks around, spotting Clint coming towards him. “Hey,” Clint says, handing him a long package. “Merry happy!”

Heimdall chuckles. “Merry happy indeed.” He unwraps it to reveal a set of stemless wine glasses, each bearing a sigil from one of the families on _Game of Thrones_. “Ah, thank you very much, these are lovely.”

“Thought you’d like them,” Clint says cheerfully.

“Tony,” Sharon says, sounding more curious than anything.

“Bring it on,” says Tony expectantly.

Maria hands him a package, adding, “I went with the practical, sorry.”

Tony looks curious until he unwraps a case of giant aspirin bottles. He laughs and says, “Well, I’ll absolutely use these, so thanks.”

“Seriously, thank you,” stage-whispers Rhodey.

“Hey!” Tony nudges him playfully. “I stay on top of things.”

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

“Eric!” says Sam.

Billy hands his brother a bag, grinning. “Surprise!”

“No way, seriously?” Eric giggles as he opens a set of wooden coasters with various _Star Wars_ symbols on them. “That’s crazy!”’

“I know, right? Also I call the Jedi symbol!”

“Uh, I believe these are _mine_. I’ll decide which ones you get to use.”

As the brothers start to bicker good-naturedly about coasters, Steve calls out, “Carina’s up!”

“Here,” Fury says, giving Carina a bag. “I had, uh, some help. Hope you like it.”

Carina blinks in surprise. “Uh?” she murmurs, but she dutifully opens the bag to reveal a pair of pink microwavable slippers. “Oh! These are great.” She doesn’t say _actually_ , but it’s probably implied.

“Good.” Fury shuffles back over to sit down next to Irani.

“Next is Hannah,” Sharon announces.

Pietro hops over to hand her an enormous bag. “It’s big,” he says with a grin. “I thought about getting you a smaller one but this seemed more fun.”

Hannah pulls out a truly gigantic Beanie Baby unicorn with huge eyes and starts laughing good-naturedly. “It’s a statement piece this way,” she says. “But actually, it’s good, because my dogs think smaller stuffed animals are for them, and they don’t always play gently.”

“Oh good!” Pietro nods. “I had it sitting on the floor and Cardboard Box curled up by it.”

“Mack!” Sam says.

Elektra slinks over to Mack, handing him a small, elegant bag. “I figured you shouldn’t have any knives in the house,” she says, “but this is just as useful.”

Mack gives her a skeptical look and reaches in to pull out a silver flask. He laughs a bit. “Well, sure,” he says. “I’ll find something to do with this.”

“I thought perhaps it might be useful once the little one’s down for the night,” says Elektra with a little shrug.

Bruce gives Mack a startled look, and Mack sort of half-shrugs at him, not looking exactly thrilled about the idea of excessive drinking while Hope is asleep either. Satisfied that she’s caused enough chaos for now, Elektra saunters back to her place.

“Hey, Nico’s next,” Steve calls, making sure to cast her a slightly different warm smile (this one means “welcome to the team” or something like that).

Karen squeezes Kara’s hand before she hops up. “Hey, Nico, I’m Karen from admin,” she says, polite but carefully not _too_ polite. “I’m not sure if you have one of these already, but I guess having multiples isn’t necessarily a bad thing?”

“Hey,” Nico says, though her attention is mostly on the present. It turns out to be a Gothic tarot deck, but not like some cheap-looking fake one, and she’s sufficiently impressed, enough to actually give Karen a little smile. “Thanks, I’m sure I’ll get use out of this.”

“Those are right up your alley,” teases Alex. “All capital-G Gothic and shit.”

“Hey, they’re cool,” Nico retorts, rolling her eyes. “Capital-G is better than cheesy.”

“Hey, Akela, you’re up,” Sharon says.

Akela puts up her hand, just in case someone doesn’t know where she’s sitting, and Darcy skips over, grinning. “So I doubt you have this already, because it’s super cool but kind of weird,” she says as an introduction, handing Akela a glittery bag.

“Alright,” Akela says, looking a bit confused. It turns out to be a rainbow-colored knife with a dragon design on the handle. “Oh,” she says, grinning. “No, I don’t have anything like this. Just a couple of small pocket knives.”

“And I’m betting none of them are rainbow,” Darcy chirps.

“Definitely not.” Akela runs her finger over the blade. “Thank you.”

Sam pulls out the next name. “Karen!”

Karen waves, just once, although it’s not really necessary, and Sif brings her present. “The timing isn’t wonderful,” she says with an almost apologetic shrug, “but I hope you like it.”

The gift in question is also a knife, though a much less flashy one, and Karen nods eagerly. “It’s great,” she says. “Much subtler than… some stuff.”

“Wanda’s turn,” Steve calls, grinning.

Joey brings Wanda a large box. “Oh my!” Wanda says, opening a large grey plush meant to resemble a brain cell. “Look, Pietro, it’s like your herpes!”

Pietro snickers. “That sounds funny.”

Joey’s grinning too. “I thought it was appropriate because you’re a psych major and stuff.”

“Val,” Sharon declares.

“Over here,” calls Val, since she’s so new and isn’t really expecting too many people to know her yet.

Mack brings over a box that looks pretty heavy. “Careful,” he says.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can take it,” Val replies smugly. It takes her a few moments to get the box properly open, but when she does she pulls out what looks like a custom wine rack made out of horseshoes, and she can’t help but murmur, “Damn.”

“I heard you like wine, and horses,” Mack says with a shrug. “I weld, so. It should be pretty sturdy now, but I dropped one of them on my foot while I was working on it and it left a hell of a bruise.”

Val nods. “I’ll try not to do that,” she says, smirking. “Thanks.”

“And last but not least, Alex!” says Sam.

Alex looks startled, like he wasn’t actually expecting his name to be called. Luke stands up and offers him a box. “Thought this might be useful,” he says with a smile.

Alex unwraps a version of the Eleventh Doctor’s Sonic Screwdriver that is an _actual_ screwdriver and grins. “Wow, thank you! That’s so cool.”

“Nerd,” Nico says affectionately.

“As usual, guys, thanks for coming tonight,” Steve says with a satisfied smile. “If any of you need a ride, let someone know and we can get you set up, okay? Have fun, be safe, happy holidays!”


	179. would you find a new way to make room for me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye, Jemma, Bobbi and Trip go to San Fransokyo for New Year's.

“Oh, hello!” Jiaying calls, getting up from her desk to greet Skye and her people. “You’re here! Traffic wasn’t bad, the flight wasn’t bad?”

“Nope,” Skye says cheerfully, lunging forward to give her mother a hug. “Blissfully uneventful on all counts.”

Jiaying grins and returns the hug, giving Skye a squeeze. “Good,” she declares, and then, after a nod hello to Jemma, Trip, and Bobbi, she blinks and says, “I was expecting…?” Fitz, she means.

“Yeah, about that,” Bobbi says, rolling her eyes slightly.

Skye glances at Jemma before elaborating, “Yeah, so Fitz is in Poland now. Indefinitely.”

“He’s got a scholarship, and an internship, and probably a working _relation_ ship with some fancy European robot or something,” Jemma mutters. “I wouldn’t be bothered if he was actually capable of communicating like he’d said he would, but he’s apparently too distracted by the fancy newness of it all.” She sighs, fully aware she’s being a brat but not really feeling any inclination toward correcting that.

“Oh dear,” Jiaying says. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you’re close, and…” She frowns at Trip. “Are you doing alright with all of this?”

Trip gives her a genuine, if a bit shaky, smile. “I’m holding up okay. This bunch hasn’t thrown me to the wolves yet.” He beams over at Skye.

“Dude, don’t even joke about that,” Skye says. “You’re our awesome friend too.”

“You’re wonderful,” Jemma insists, nodding vehemently. “You’re always going to be part of our, part of… us, as cheesy as that sounds.”

“Aw.” Trip leans over to kiss her on the cheek fondly. “Thanks, girl.”

“Of course,” Jemma says, giving his shoulder a fond, if slightly awkward pat. “In any case, it might yet get better, but until then Bobbi’s here with us.”

“And it’s wonderful to have you,” Jiaying promises, nodding.

Lincoln walks in. “Sorry, was parking the car,” he says to Jiaying. “What’re we talking about?”

“Men who suck,” Skye says cheerfully. “But not Trip, he doesn’t.”

Lincoln seems unsure of how to react to this. “Cool?”

“It neither is nor isn’t,” Jemma says lightly. “How have things been around here, though?”

“The same as ever, really,” Jiaying replies. “Trying to do what we can for people. Occasionally participating in the bureaucracy that unfortunately comes with being able to do that. Speaking of, I was wondering -”

“Oh, hey, what do you know about saving people from cults?” Bobbi interrupts. “We have a new fun situation in the extended friendgroup.”

Jiaying makes a face. “What kind of cult? What’s going on?”

“Well, basically this strange New Age shop moved in down the street,” Jemma begins, sighing, “and one of our friends made friends with this girl who works there. The shop is run by her adult-older sister and the sister’s husband, and also staffed by two people who live with them and are called their cousins despite being not related by biology or adoption either.”

“Turns out they’ve been raising her, Crystal, pretty much isolated from everything,” Bobbi continues. “Homeschooling, keeping her away from a lot of pretty normal stuff. From what we can tell it’s some sort of weird nature-worship thing combined with, like, purity culture and a disdain for modernity.”

“They’re kinda like Amish hippies,” Skye says, grimacing. “Except without Rumspringa, I think. Crystal hasn’t mentioned anything like that, anyway.”

“She’s about our age,” Trip adds, “but she doesn’t really know much about stuff outside her family’s life. We’d like to help her, though, if you’ve got any ideas.”

“Actually, Rumspringa might not be a bad concept to suggest she explore,” Jiaying muses. “Provided, of course, that she wants to.”

“She definitely does,” Bobbi declares, rolling her eyes. “She’s been to a lot of our mall events lately and every time she just seems like a kid in a candy shop. Who didn’t realize candy shops existed until right now.”

Jemma nods in agreement. “Plus she’s, ah, not heterosexual,” she adds. “Which is needless to say not a concept her family is comfortable with, though they don’t know it applies to her yet.”

“Has anyone actually met the family?” Jiaying asks.

“Just saw them from a distance,” Skye says with a shrug. “They even look pretty weird, like, the sister has crazy long red hair and always wears purple. Or at least she has when I saw her. It seems like the brother-in-law doesn’t talk much, either.”

“Ah,” Jiaying says. “I’ve seen this type before. But as far as you know, there’s no physical abuse involved? Your friend Crystal is technically safe?”

“As she can be,” Jemma shrugs. “She’d likely have mentioned something to Pietro and Wanda if she… and Wanda would certainly have told us, but she hasn’t.”

“Alright.” Jiaying glances over at Lincoln, who’s been listening to all of this with an uncomfortable expression. “Would you get my resource book? I have some titles I could pass along.”

“Sure.” Lincoln ambles off in the direction of her office, looking relieved to be excused from the conversation.

“She’s sweet,” Trip says. “It sucks not knowing what to do to help, you know? I mean, you probably do.” He grins, like he’s laughing at himself.

“I think I understand, yes,” Jiaying chuckles. “But I’ve got some books and articles to recommend, which might be somewhere to start. In the meantime, the important things are to listen to her, support her, and make sure she knows that if she wants to change her lifestyle in any way that it’s alright and that she’s got safe places to go. Has she actually discussed wanting to leave, or is it just implied?”

“Implied,” Bobbi says. “But I’m pretty sure we’re all already starting to plan what to do when she’s ready to make the jump.”

Skye nods. “Yeah, we’re pretty sure Raina might ask her to move in - it’s not for sure, but she’s kinda been Wanda and Pietro’s surrogate big sister and since Crystal’s so close to them now, she’s been hanging out with her a lot too. She’s casually mentioned that she’s thinking about it.”

“Oh!” Jiaying exclaims, clearly pleased and rather proud of her former charge-of-sorts. “I hope that works out, then. I wouldn’t have imagined her being the big sister type, but then I suppose she can get attached to people.” She shakes her head, smiling. “At this point I’d say that’s the best sort of thing to help steer Crystal toward. She’ll have to make her own decisions, of course, but if she knows she has that ability, that’s already part of the battle.”

“I know.” Skye sighs. “It sucks that she’s stuck there for now, though. She’s cool.”

“It’s good of all of you to look out for her,” Jiaying says, casting her daughter a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure that’s very reassuring, and from what you’ve said your crowd certainly knows how to mount a rescue effort when it’s required, so I’m sure it’ll be helpful as well.”

Just then Lincoln returns, holding a red binder. “Here you go,” he says, offering it to Jiaying.

Alisha comes through the door a second later, announcing, “There’s a pot of mediocre coffee in the kitchen if anyone so desires. Hey, all.”

“Hey,” Bobbi says. “Might take you up on the coffee in a bit, but Jiaying might have been about to ask us something before I derailed the conversation with a potential long-distance client. Or whatever you wanna call it.” She nods to Jiaying in a slight apology.

“It’s alright,” Jiaying promises. “It was clearly important to all of you, and I’m glad to be of help. What I was going to ask, though, was if you’d be interested in accompanying me to a gala on New Year’s Eve.”

“A gala?” Jemma echoes, blinking.

“Yes,” Jiaying says. “As I was saying, a large downside of running a charity is periodically having to rub elbows with the moneyed set. One of my more frequent donators hosts this party every year and always extends an invitation, for me and whomever else I choose to accompany me. It’s a key opportunity for me to socialize and schmooze, not to mention a rather fancy way to ring in the new year.”

Alisha smirks. “A little too fancy, if you ask me, but it might be fun if you’ve never gotten to go to something like that before.”

Skye’s eyes widen. “I mean, I didn’t bring anything fancier than flannel shirts, but hell yes!”

“I’m happy to put up the money for you to get something to wear,” Jiaying says. “I thought it might be a fun experience for you all. Something glamorous, perhaps.”

“It sounds marvelous,” Jemma says quickly, beaming. “Thank you for the invitation, Jiaying. Would you want us to be socializing and schmoozing with you, or for you, or?”

Jiaying laughs. “If you want to talk up Afterlife, I won’t complain,” she says, “but I can handle the majority of the business, and Gordon will be along to help as well. You can focus on having a nice time.”

“I’ve never been to a gala before,” Skye says. “How like, formal do we have to be? I mean obviously we have to get nice outfits, but y’know.”

“Technically it’s a black-tie affair,” Jiaying says. “Typically it’s dresses and suits.”

“Aw, damn,” Bobbi says, smirking. “I wish I’d have known, I have a killer suit that drives these nerds crazy.”

Jemma blushes just thinking about it, which pretty much proves Bobbi’s point. “So not unlike prom, but probably less ironic,” she suggests.

“Alright.” Skye grins over at Jemma and winks. “Sounds awesome.”

Trip’s nodding. “It does,” he says, but he can’t help but look a little sad.

“We won’t let you have anything but the nicest night,” Jemma promises vehemently.

 

* * *

 

“I missed you!” Hiro yells as he flings himself into Skye’s arms.

Skye’s laughing, but Hiro almost knocks her down. “Hey, careful,” she says playfully. “You’re actually getting tall, you’re gonna send me flying one of these days.”

Tadashi’s grinning too, pulling first Jemma and then Trip and Bobbi in for a hug. “He’s been doing that lately. It’s really annoying.”

Hiro sticks his tongue out at him. “Just wait till I’m taller than you!”

“Never,” Tadashi says, ruffling his hair.

“Well, you’re all charming as ever,” Bobbi chuckles. “How’s it going for you?”

“Fine,” Gogo says with a nod in her direction. “This one’s in the running for class valedictorian.” She nudges Honey proudly.

“We’re all very high-ranking,” Honey demurs, but she’s grinning. “Which isn’t a brag, just a reflection of how hard we all work.”

Jemma nods in understanding. “Well, you’re all brilliant,” she says, “but congratulations especially, Honey.”

“Jemma’s gonna be valedictorian too,” Skye says, beaming. “It’s pretty much a done deal.”

“Probably,” Jemma admits shyly. “But I don’t mean to brag either.”

“God,” Bobbi laughs, nodding between Honey and Jemma. “You two are disgustingly humble. I didn’t shut up about being valedictorian for like a year after. It’s still on my resume.”

“Honey’s just like that,” Tadashi says fondly. “But yeah, we’re all doing great. Wasabi’s working on - what is it again?”

“Precision laser knives,” Wasabi says. “But ones that are safe for the average person to use. Don’t want people chopping off a finger.” He holds up his right hand sheepishly - the pinky finger is wrapped in cast.

“It was so awesome!” Fred cheers. “We all went to the emergency room and everything!”

Gogo sighs. “It was _not_ awesome. But it’s only the tip of his finger and they got it back on.”

Trip laughs and shakes his head. “Hey, it happens. Glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah.” Wasabi nods. “Anyway! So we’re gonna stop talking about my fingertip now.”

“So how do you feel about chocolate?” Honey asks eagerly, grinning.

“I feel great about chocolate!” chirps Skye. “Why?”

“Well, there’s that old chocolate factory they renovated and turned into shopping and a museum and someplace to eat, and there’s still _lots_ of chocolate involved,” Honey says. “We were thinking that’d be a nice outing to go on? Sightseeing and a chance to catch up!”

Jemma nods. “I think that could be fun,” she says, leaving room for the others to make the final decision just in case.

“You guys cool with that?” Skye asks Bobbi and Trip. “You know me, I’m always up for chocolate.”

“Sounds fun,” Trip agrees. “Plus, shopping means we might be able to look for stuff for your mom’s gala.”

“Ooh!” Honey exclaims. “A gala?”

“Yeah,” Bobbi agrees. “Skye’s mom invited us to some charity hobnobbing thing she’s going to on New Year’s. We don’t have the right fancy attire with us, though, so we need to figure that out.”

“We can help!” Honey says. “If you want. I don’t know if they’d have what you’re looking for at the chocolate factory, but we can look around and find other places.”

They head out, chatting and laughing all the while, and after they explore the chocolate factory in full (availing themselves of any free chocolate possible, of course) they grab a table at its main restaurant and get comfortable.

“Oh hey, did Tadashi tell you the big news?” Hiro says.

“What big news?” Trip asks.

“The movie about him and Baymax has a release date now! It’s coming out next November!”

Tadashi looks embarrassed. “Yeah, I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I just...didn’t.”

“Dude.” Skye gives him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? That is _so_ awesome! Are you guys invited to the premiere? Are any of you in the movie? Is it like a documentary or a biopic? Do you get-”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Tadashi laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I think we’re invited to the premiere, nothing’s set in stone yet. They haven’t called me about cameoing or anything. It’s an animated movie and I guess they added some...extra...elements to it, but I haven’t really seen too much of the script yet. They said they’ll have a rough cut ready for me to see probably in March or April. I don’t know a lot, I just get the occasional email or phone call about it.”

“Still, that sounds neat,” Bobbi says. “Good on you guys.”

“I’m in it,” Fred says with a lazy grin. “I think they made me a dragon.”

Everyone just sort of blinks at that for a minute before Tadashi asks, “So how’s Fitz doing in Poland?”

“Very well, I expect,” Jemma says. “It’s a wonderful experience for him, and in that way it’s exciting and I’d never begrudge him that.”

“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there,” Honey murmurs, fretting.

Skye makes a face. “He’s being kind of an ass,” she says frankly. “I think he’s contacted Jem maybe twice since he left? And not for long talks either.”

“I haven’t heard from him much either,” sighs Trip. “I text him, but I guess he’s just busy.”

“And it’s not that I’m put out that he’s off having adventures,” Jemma says quickly. “I’m not. It’s just that it’s a pattern with him, always has been? He’s historically gotten _very_ put out when, for example, _I_ get involved in something new and have less time to spend with him like he’s used to, although it’s rarely true that I’ve directly blown him off. But when _he_ gets some new bee in his bonnet -”

“Bees?” Bobbi interrupts, smirking.

“Bees,” Jemma agrees. “When that happens to him, it’s like he becomes a whole different person. Can’t be arsed to communicate, all that. Us ordinary humans are obviously much less important than whatever fancy _robot_ he’s taken up with.”

“But I thought you liked robots?” Hiro says, tilting his head.

“I do sometimes,” Jemma says, shrugging. “I like your robot very much. But you’re not strange about your robots, or whatever other scientific project or discovery you’re engrossed in. You don’t use projects as an excuse to be secretive or nonresponsive.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes. “What she means is that she doesn’t care that he’s off doing other things, but he’s being a selfish jerk as a result and that’s annoying,” she says, because she knows Jemma will keep going on being semi-tactful and vague about it forever.

“Pretty much,” Skye agrees.

Trip shrugs. “I asked if he wanted to Skype when we got back and he said yes. Hope he doesn’t get interrupted in the middle again.”

“It’s really just frustrating because it’s that pattern,” Jemma adds, looking already like she’s wanting to soften her criticisms. “He’ll come around, I’m sure. It’s just one of those, I don’t know, getting older and dealing with new things… things.”

“Sure,” Gogo says, though she doesn’t sound (or look) convinced. “Anyway. Guess we’d better go get the shopping part over with, huh?”

“If you don’t mind,” Jemma says. “I don’t think this one’s had her fill of free chocolate yet.” She nudges Skye, grinning.

Pulling a mock-offended face, Skye asks, “Is there such a thing as having your fill of free chocolate?”

“There might be, I don’t know for sure,” Jemma says with a lofty shrug. “I’ve never felt compelled to find out.”

“You’re both disgusting,” Bobbi sighs playfully.

 

* * *

 

The shopping, mercifully, doesn’t take too long, and soon all four of them have reasonable black-tie outfits. After they’ve had a gift exchange (everyone brought one present and swapped them around since it would get too complicated otherwise), the San Fransokyo kids leave, extracting promises from Skye to text them pictures of the fancy gala decor. “I gotta be sneaky about it since I’m there kinda representing my mom and all, but I can definitely get pics,” she says with a grin.

They meet up back at Afterlife to ride in the car Jiaying’s called - Lincoln usually drives for all of them, but he and Alisha, neither being fond of this particular event, have bowed out and left the vague impression they’re going to welcome the new year with the help of some rather potent plants - and she appraises them all with a smile.

“Very elegant, but not too stuck-up,” she declares. “I suppose I managed the same?” She nods down at her own gown - it’s definitely a gown, the top styled similarly to a traditional cheongsam but done in mostly solid fabric with appliques and a skirt that flares from the knees - and smirks. This is easily the fanciest night of the year for her, and she wears it well.

“You did!” Jemma says eagerly. “That’s beautiful, with the - I love those -” She gestures sort of helplessly to the (completely decorative) closures on the right side of Jiaying’s collar, not knowing the proper term.

“Thank you,” Jiaying says, amused.

“You look really nice, Mom,” Skye agrees. “We all clean up pretty good, huh?”

“You know it,” Bobbi chuckles, wrapping an arm around Jemma’s shoulders possessively and squeezing Skye’s hand.

Gordon ambles into the room. “Hey, boss,” he says with a smirk. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

Jiaying glances at her phone. “The car should be waiting for us,” she says, nodding toward the front door as to suggest they all head that direction. She hangs back a second, though, very purposely falling into step with Skye in a way that suggests they might have a moment alone, and murmurs, “Thank you, for what you said, and thank you for being willing to go along with this. It’s sort of going to be nonsense, unfortunately, but it helps us do what we need to in the end.”

Skye’s expression softens and she nods. “Yeah, of course,” she says. “I mean, I figure we should’ve been doing stuff like this, but...y’know. It’s kinda like Take Your Daughter to Work Day, right?”

“In a way,” Jiaying agrees, laughing gently. “Although with considerably more alcohol.”

“I mean, that just makes it better.” Skye shrugs. “I promise I’ll be chill though. And the most that happens when that one has too much is she just rants loudly about Donna Noble to whoever will listen.” She grins and points at Jemma.

Of course, this catches Jemma’s attention, but she just says, very primly, “Donna Noble is incredible and her fate is nothing short of a travesty.”

The car ride over is short but much too elegant for any of the kids to be entirely comfortable (even Bobbi declines the complimentary champagne, not yet ready to go there) and when they get to the venue they discover it’s just as overwhelmingly grand. “It’s like the staircase in _The Phantom of the Opera_ ,” Jemma whispers, awed. “All… large and splendid.”

Trip grins over at her. “Probably not what they were going for, but that works, yeah.”

“Alright, time to schmooze?” Skye asks.

“Schmooze away,” Jiaying laughs. “Or avail yourself of the refreshments first, either way.”

“If you insist!” Skye grabs Jemma and Trip’s hands and tugs them toward the bar. She doesn’t have to grab Bobbi’s because Bobbi is already almost there.

“Someone’s excited,” Bobbi teases.

“Free drinks!” Skye chirps. “What’s not to get excited about?”

A few minutes later, drinks in hand, they head back toward where they left Jiaying, only to find that she’s...preoccupied. Jiaying is standing close to a blonde woman, heads leaned in as they talk like they don’t want anyone else in on their conversation. If Skye hadn’t looked up at just the right moment, she might have missed the brief but definitely not platonic kiss they share. “Holy _shit!_ ” she yelps, not loud enough for anyone but her group to hear.

“What?” Jemma murmurs, because she definitely hadn’t been looking.

Skye points at Jiaying and the mysterious woman. “Um, my mom definitely just locked lips with that lady.”

Jemma’s eyes go impossibly wide. “ _Really_?” she asks. “Does she… you know, do that?”

“I guess so.” Skye glances at Trip and Bobbi. “You guys didn’t happen to see that, did you?”

“No, sorry.” Trip watches Jiaying and the woman for a moment. “I guess I could see it though. They are standing pretty close.”

With a mischievous grin, Skye strides over to her mother and says brightly, “Hi, Mom. Hi, other Mom?”

Jiaying blinks, obviously startled and surprised by this. “Skye, I haven’t introduced you to Janet,” she says quickly.

The blonde woman - Janet apparently - laughs warmly. “Hi,” she says, offering her hand. “You must be Skye. Jiaying’s told me so much about you. I’m Janet van Dyne.”

“Hi!” Skye says, shaking her hand. “Um, can’t really say the same. Do you work with Mom?”

“Not at Afterlife, though we have worked closely together before. I’m a fashion designer, but I focus on accessibility, sustainability, and affordability over runway appeal.” Janet smiles. “Right now I’m working on becoming a main supplier for shelters and charities, which is, well, why I’m here tonight.”

“Between this and her willingness to engage in advocacy, she’s been invaluable,” Jiaying adds, clearly fond. “I apologize for not mentioning her before - not mentioning you to her,” she continues, directing the last part at Janet, “we just talk rarely enough that I try not to waste the time going on about work too much.”

“Oh, that wasn’t what I meant,” Skye says, grinning. “I saw you guys kissing a minute ago. You go, Mom.”

Jiaying can’t help but blush, though she looks like she’s regretting that more than the rest. “I probably should have said something, yes,” she says. “Our relationship is casual enough that it’s not easy to define, though, so it’s been… a strange thing to find the words for.”

“Gotcha.” Skye nods. “Well, nice to meet you, Janet.” She glances around to make sure the others have followed her (they have) and adds, “This is my girlfriend Jemma, and this is my friend Trip and this is Bobbi.”

“Lovely to meet you all,” Janet says, shaking hands with each of them in turn.

“Did I hear you tell Skye that your last name is Van Dyne?” Jemma asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s right, why do you ask?”

Jemma flusters a bit, but she manages to squeak, “Do you have a daughter called Hope?”

Janet raises an eyebrow but replies, “I do, yes. Do you know her?”

Jemma nods and Bobbi (taking pity) chimes in, “Yeah, we all work in the same mall as her. She and Skye and I are all in the managers’ club, even. She’s pretty cool.”

Janet chuckles. “Well, I’m glad to hear you think so. I knew you were both in the same general area, but I suppose I hadn’t connected the dots. She went to school here and then moved out there once she was done. She hasn’t been back to visit often, but she calls me enough, and- well, anyhow. I’ll let you all get back to enjoying the party and not take up any more of your time.”

“You weren’t taking up anyone’s time,” Trip says with an easy smile. “Actually, I’d like to hear more about your clothing, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh! Certainly.” Janet turns to Jiaying. “Would you mind terribly if we continued our talk a bit later, darling?”

“That’s very fine,” Jiaying promises, smiling almost shyly (it’s not her usual look). “I think I owe them some time to quiz you, honestly.”

“I’ll come find you,” Janet says, leaning in to press a kiss to Jiaying’s cheek. Then she turns to Trip and asks, “Where would you like to start?”

 

* * *

 

“ _God_ , Bobbi,” Jemma whimpers, dropping her head against Bobbi’s shoulder almost forcefully.

“Careful, Jem, we don’t want anyone catching us, do we?” Bobbi murmurs.

“No, but that’s kinda part of the fun,” Skye snickers. She reaches to tug on Jemma’s ponytail. She’s pressed up against Jemma’s back and not really able to do that much at the moment, but she knows that’ll get a reaction.

“God!” Jemma repeats, squealing. The arm that’s not tight around Bobbi’s waist reaches back to find Skye’s… well, anywhere and give her a fond squeeze. “You know we’ll be so embarrassed if we do get found out.”

Skye shrugs. “We’re totally not the only ones at this party who snuck off to make out.”

“Still!” Jemma says.

“Then stop talking so much, if you’re so worried about someone hearing,” Bobbi teases, all the while carefully stroking Jemma through her panties. “We’re keeping it together here. You can do it too, honey.”

Jemma bites her lips together and nods, obviously embarrassed already.

Skye starts kissing the back of her neck, humming fondly. “Hey,” she murmurs, “when we get back later tonight, you guys wanna do more of this?”

“I was pretty much counting on it,” Bobbi says with a wicked smirk. “I wouldn’t work you up for nothing, after all.”

“Good,” Skye says, returning the smirk. “I mean, I didn’t bring that much stuff, but we can improvise.”

“Of course,” Bobbi agrees. “Would you like that, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” Jemma says. “It’s nice. You’re both so nice.”

“You too,” murmurs Skye, nipping just a bit.

They keep this up for a couple more minutes until Skye finally says, very reluctantly, “We should probably go back.”

“Should we?” Jemma asks, sounding already on edge.

“I mean, it’s about half an hour to midnight, and Mom said there’ll be fireworks and stuff. What do you think?” Skye asks Bobbi.

“Probably,” Bobbi agrees, nodding. “I wouldn’t want you getting too bored before we get back, though.”

Skye raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What were you thinking?”

“You’re smart girls, see if you can guess,” Bobbi smirks.

Jemma turns to look at Skye, eyes wide, and nods down at their hips shyly.

“Oh. Right.” Skye snorts and reaches down to remove her own panties. “Shall I get hers too?”

“Mm, I think you shall,” Bobbi says, leaning to give each of them a kiss. “She’s yours, after all.”

“Damn right.” Skye leans over to kiss Jemma gently and tugs off her panties too. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” Jemma whispers. She’s blushing as much as ever, which isn’t really a surprise to any of them.

Bobbi chuckles and puts their panties in her little purse. “Either of you want to make a stop in the fancy bathroom before we rejoin the crowd?” she asks. “Make sure you’re looking and feeling presentable, all that.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Skye says, grinning over at Jemma.

“Might not,” Jemma agrees shyly. “But quickly, please?”

“Of course,” Bobbi says.

 

* * *

 

When they head back out into the main socializing area, they spot Trip pretty quickly. He seems to have been talking to a girl, but by the time they make their way over to him, he’s looking a bit uncomfortable. “Hey, you okay?” Skye asks. “What’s up?”

Trip shrugs. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just…I dunno, I was talking with that girl and we were kinda flirting but not really, and it was nice, she’s cute, but then I felt bad because, well, Fitz.”

“Aw.” Skye reaches out to pat him on the arm. “I don’t think he’d be mad about something like that.”

“He understands,” Jemma agrees. “You’re very charismatic. It’s easy for people to want to flirt with you, and if it’s harmless…”

“It was,” Trip says quickly. “He’s been a little weird lately, but I still love him and miss him, y’know? Anyway.” He shakes his head, then flashes them a playful grin. “I’m guessing you guys snuck off to make out?”

“Wow, I can’t believe you’d make such an assumption about-” Skye interrupts herself with a giggle. “Can’t even finish that, nope. We sure did.”

Jemma is blushing (again) but she laughs in spite of herself. “We didn’t mean to abandon you,” she says. “Just…”

“You know how it is sometimes,” Bobbi chimes in. “Maybe.”

“It’s fine,” Trip says with a good-natured eyeroll. “Anyway, wanna scope out a good place to watch the fireworks? I think your mom’s already out there.” He gestures to where many people have already migrated out to the backyard.

“That sounds nice,” Jemma agrees. “We’re far enough off that it won’t be devastatingly loud, but it’ll still be very pretty.”

Skye nods in agreement. “Shall we?” She offers one arm to Jemma and the other to Trip, in the interests of fairness.

Trip takes it with a laugh. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy twentygayteen! Expect more gay shit this year, it's us.


	180. no way to make the pain play fair, it doesn't disappear just because you say it isn't there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye, Karen, Kara, and Jemma make some new friends who desperately need ice cream.

“C’mon, please?” Molly is begging Gert as they head for the Apple Store. “I’ll just buy a little bag, a tiny one! With just a few pieces! Dale and Stacey will never know about it!”

“Yeah, they will, because Dale and Stacey always know when we step out of line and then we’ll get lectured for the next week about how candy rots your teeth and is full of artificial flavors and preservatives.” Gert glares at Candy Tyme across the hallway before adding, “Anyway, you know you wouldn’t be able to buy just a tiny bag.”

Molly pouts. “When I move out, the first thing I’m doing is buying a bag of gummy worms the size of my head.”

“Good goal, kiddo.” Gert gives Molly an affectionate smile before following Chase inside the Apple Store.

Chase is standing there looking awkward, until one of the salesguys (who’s wearing a nametag that reads “Ben, he/him” and honestly doesn’t look too much older than them) comes over. “Hello, welcome to the Apple Store,” he says, offering a smile. “How can we help you guys out today?”

“Hi,” says Chase. “Um, so my phone screen kind of...shattered.” He pulls it out of his pocket to show the guy. “Shattered” is a kind word for it - at this point it’s more cracks than screen.

“Uh-oh, that’s the worst!” Ben exclaims, and it’s clearly rehearsed but there does seem to be some genuine sympathy there too. “Do you know if you have a warranty?”

Chase looks anxious. “I’ve had it for like a year, so I don’t know…? It’s on my dad’s account.”

Ben frowns. “Let me get my manager over here,” he murmurs. “I’m still pretty new, I’m not totally sure how that works…” And he holds up a hand before retreating to the back of the store for a minute to talk to his manager.

A minute later Skye comes over, wearing her best customer service smile. “Hey, what can I do for you?” Ben trots up behind her, and she says, “You can just watch how I handle this.”

Chase holds out his phone. “It’s kind of busted.”

“Yikes,” Skye says, not bothering to hide her _oh shit_ expression. “What happened there?”

There’s a long pause and Chase makes a series of uncomfortable faces before saying, “It got thrown across the room and hit the wall.”

Gert scoffs. “He means his _dad_ did that.”

“He didn’t mean to,” Chase mutters, not looking anybody in the eye. “It was an accident.” Molly reaches to pat him on the back sympathetically.

“Oh-kay,” Skye says, reading the awkward mood and deciding to steamroll right past it, “so pretty much at this point we’re gonna need to go ahead and get you a replacement. Ben said your dad’s the primary account holder, right?”

Chase nods. “He’s out of town, but I have the information and stuff.”

“Okay, c’mon back to the repair counter.” Skye gestures for them to follow her, then, once her back is to them, she shoots Ben a look and mouths _jesus christ._ Ben hasn’t stopped frowning this whole time, but he’s not really sure how involved with these people’s lives he’s supposed to be so he tries for the kind of shrug that’s supposed to actually be in agreement. (It’s vague.)

Once Skye’s gotten the details of Chase’s account and started the process of checking for insurance and warranty, she says, too casually, “So...you guys were at that big party we had over the summer, right? Where we talked about not getting involved with Nazis?”

“Yeah,” Gert says. “That was pretty cool. I didn’t know you were part of that.”

“That’s me,” Skye says cheerfully. “Here to save as many people as possible from neo-Nazis. Okay, so Chase, you’re just barely outside of the warranty.” She notices the stricken look on his face and adds quickly, “ _But_ we do have the ability to extend warranties if the closing date is within thirty days of when the device is brought in.”

“We do?” Ben asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” Skye says, narrowing her eyes at him and nodding fiercely, “we _totally_ do. I just haven’t told you about it ‘cause it hasn’t come up yet.” She turns back to Chase and adds, “So this won’t actually cost you anything. Do you wanna get the same model or upgrade? That’s gonna cost some, but it’s just the difference between your old phone and the new one.”

Chase’s eyes are huge. “No, I like this one,” he says quickly. “Are you allowed to…?”

“Yep!” Skye says, tapping some keys on her device. “Like I said, it’s a special circumstance. Okay, so you’re getting another 5 ½ inch 6s, and did you want that in silver, gold, space grey, or rose gold?”

“Grey, I guess,” Chase says, and he’s about to ask another question when Molly chirps, “Can we at least get ice cream after we’re done here? Dale and Stacey will _never_ find out about that!”

Gert sighs. “Unless we use the emergency credit card, which is the only money I have on me right now.”

Skye finishes up the transaction and, once she’s retrieved Chase’s sim card from his old phone and is working on putting it into his new one, says, “Hey, listen, I get off work in like twenty minutes. This might sound a little weird, but I’ll totally buy you guys ice cream if you want.”

Molly beams. “Oh my god, can we? Please?” She gives Gert and Chase her most pitiful look. “ _Pleeeeeease?_ ”

Gert looks at Skye for a second, like she’s not sure what to make of her, then she asks, “Free ice cream? Really?”

“Yeah. Anything you want. Within reason, I mean.” Skye grins. “My girlfriend works over there, I got connections.”

“Sure,” Chase says, pocketing his new phone. He looks more than a little startled by all of this, but he’s doing his best to keep it together. “I guess we’ll just wait around for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out a little after four. You guys’ll find something to do.” Skye gives them a little salute. “See you in a bit?”

“Thanks,” says Gert, smiling at her even though she still seems a little wary.

“Bye!” Molly says, waving as they leave.

“What was that about?” Ben asks, keeping his voice low.

“Those kids have pretty shitty home lives, or so my friends tell me,” Skye murmurs. “I met them over the summer when we had a party to try to discourage high schoolers from joining the gangs in this area. I feel bad for them. The least I can do is buy them some ice cream.”

“And make up a fake warranty extension,” he remarks.

Shrugging, Skye tosses her head. “I’m the manager, and fuck the rules.”

 

* * *

 

There’s maybe an hour to go before the end of their day when Kara hears someone knocking on the admin office door. “Odds it’s going to be one of the guys wasting time hitting on us?” she cracks, smirking at Karen.

“63% likelihood,” Karen says sweetly.

Kara chuckles, but when she opens the door it’s the opposite of this. It’s a couple of high schoolers, ones she vaguely recognizes from that anti-fascist party (and the Goth one, Nico something, was Karen's Secret Santa recipient). “You lose, I guess,” she calls back to Karen.

“I’m so disappointed,” Karen says dryly.

That banter taken care of, Kara turns to the girls and smiles in what she hopes is a genuine way. “Hey, uh, what can we do for you?” she asks. “If someone out there’s making a scene or something, I’ll walk you over to security. Just getting that out of the way.”

“Most of the randoms who show up at our door are really looking for security,” Karen adds cheerfully.

“Uh, no,” says the other girl, a remarkably wholesome-looking blonde. “I’m just going to start at the beginning. Hi, I’m Karolina, this is my friend Nico, and we’re here on behalf of my mother.”

“She’s here on behalf of her mother,” Nico interrupts, rolling her eyes. “I’m here because someone has to be… not on behalf of her mother.”

Karolina sighs. “Anyway,” she says, “it’s totally cool if you say no, I understand why it wouldn’t be something you could do, but my mom runs a church and she was wondering if we could get permission to put some posters up around the mall.”

Kara tilts her head. “You don’t seem particularly thrilled about this,” she observes.

“Yeah, because her mom’s church is a total cult,” Nico says. “It’s messed up. Seriously, don’t let her hang up these posters.” She pulls one out of the roll under Karolina’s arm and unrolls it dramatically: it’s iridescent and vaguely shimmery, like a pastel kaleidoscope that would have the potential of looking pretty gay if it didn’t also read CHURCH OF GIBBORIM in big letters in the middle.

Karen comes over to inspect and, after a minute (and in an attempt to lighten the mood), she remarks, “At least it’s not covered in a racist Google Images searchdump.”

Kara snickers. “We actually had to shut some of that down - what, more than a year ago? Yeah,” she explains (Nico and Karolina look horrified). “Well, we didn’t actually shut the business down, their own questionable business practices and ideologies took care of that for us, but they tried to advertise in the mall. I took one look at their flyers and made sure nobody else would have to inside the mall.”

“So you can do that,” Nico presses. “You have veto power? ‘Cause seriously, this would be the time to use it.”

“We get votes, anyway,” Kara says. “It’s gonna be our boss’ decision, ultimately, but considering the b.s. clinic in question was being aggressively racist toward Asian cultures specifically…”

“Oh, yeah, I remember hearing about that,” Nico remarks. “Good riddance, assholes.”

“Yeah,” Kara agrees. “Since that was the case, I did sort of get final say. Then.” She rolls her eyes self-deprecatingly. “It was a whole thing.”

Karolina tilts her head, as if she’s putting something together. “You two were both part of that party, right?” she asks carefully. “The… you know. Anti-gang one some people around here held?” And after a _long_ pause she adds, “You’re, um. The girl who…”

Karen grabs Kara’s hand, just in case this isn’t the time to bring that up, but Kara shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. “I’m Kara. I’m the girl who got sucked into Hydra-adjacency and then back out again.”

“I’m so sorry!” Karolina exclaims. “I mean, that you had to go through all that, of course, but also for bringing it up. I just, I wanted to make sure I was remembering right.”

“It’s fine,” Kara says. “I think about it pretty regularly anyway. One of the fun side-effects of trauma.” She pauses and gives Karen’s hand a squeeze, a very obvious one. “But I’m actually doing really good these days. Got some great people around me.”

“Aw,” Karen croons. “I’m not taking all the credit, though. Pretty much all of the so-called adults at that party helped, one way or another. I just got lucky enough to be the girlfriend.”

“Aw!” Karolina echoes, grinning. “That’s so cute, I’m so glad for you! It’s cool to hear you had that kind of support system, and, you know.” She waves between them. “That it ended up…”

“Queer,” Nico supplies, smirking. “It’s cool that it ended up queer.”

“It really is,” Kara agrees.

“Are you two?” Karen asks, glancing between Nico and Karolina. “Not to be intrusive, but.”

This makes both of them laugh, more than a little nervously. “Nope,” Nico says, but not in a mean way. “Maybe in another life. We’re both queer, but I’ve got a nerd of a boyfriend.”

“And I, um,” Karolina stammers, suddenly shy, “I have a… girlfriend. Who’s sometimes a boyfriend. And sometimes just a… personfriend.”

“That’s cool,” Karen says, shrugging. “No big deal, whatever the case. God knows most of us here who run in the same general crowd are some kind of not-straight.”

“That must be so nice,” Karolina sighs wistfully. “That it’s not weird, or something anyone gets judgmental about, or… yeah.”

Kara clears her throat, because that was really the last piece of the puzzle she needed. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say your mom’s church -”

“Cult,” Nico interjects.

“Your mom’s whatever isn’t really down with queer stuff,” Kara finishes, frowning.

“Not really,” Karolina admits, pushing her hair back nervously. “My parents, uh, they don’t actually know Xavin isn’t always a boyfriend-type person. I’m pretty sure they don’t even realize you can be not always the same type of person.” She seems like she might continue, but then she cuts herself with a laugh. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m bothering you guys with this. We’re pretty much strangers, and we’re just here to talk about…”

“Hey, Irani?” Karen calls.

Irani emerges from her office. “Yes?” Noticing Karolina and Nico there, she gives them her best customer service smile and adds, “Hello there, do you need assistance?”

“My mom wanted to know if we could hang some posters for her church in the mall,” Karolina says, clearly in “make a good impression” mode even if she’s also clearly not into this.

“I see,” Irani says. “So you were asking me for final approval, Karen?”

“Ye-ah,” Karen says, obviously hesitating. “I know we, uh. Don’t usually… do that. With stuff like that.” She makes a face that she hopes appropriately represents the situation’s distastefulness.

“Ah, I see.” Irani nods. She looks at Karolina again. “I’m going to assume from the expression on your face that you’re less than thrilled about this errand, hm?”

“It was pretty much ‘oh, you’re going to be at the mall anyway, take these and see,’” Karolina says, attempting diplomacy. “It’s definitely okay if it’s not… okay, though. That’s understandable.”

“There’s nothing okay about this place,” Nico says, though less aggressively now that they’re talking to an adult-adult. “Which we were sort of discussing.”

“Think of it less as us wanting final approval and more as us wanting, you know, official but very polite disapproval,” Kara chimes in. “We might have a situation on our hands.”

Irani nods slowly, as if she’s thinking. “Very well, then,” she says with a wry smile. “Consider this my polite disapproval. And you don’t think your mother will be angry?”

“She might be annoyed,” Karolina sighs. “But it’s like, what could I really do about it? If you don’t hang up religious stuff at the mall, as a rule, that’s kind of that, and pushing you to do anything else could just wind up making the church look bad.” She shrugs. It’s clear she doesn’t mind this one bit.

“Alright,” Irani says. “I just wanted to ensure that it wouldn’t cause you any trouble. If need be, I can give you my business card to give to your mother.”

“I don’t think that’d be necessary,” Karolina says, “but thank you. I really appreciate it.” Which means _all_ of it, not just the business card offer.

“Of course. Is there anything else we can help you with?”

“Not right now, thank you,” Karolina echoes. “We’ll just get out of your hair.”

Irani nods and goes back to work, but Karen and Kara exchange not-quite-frantic glances before Karen hurries to say, “Actually, if it’s not weird, uh, we’re both off pretty soon and if you want some quasi-adults to talk to about… stuff… for a little while we’re free?”

“We have a friend who can get us a hookup for inexpensive ice cream,” Kara adds. “It’s just…”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been talking to one of your friends who, I’m guessing, was at the Jarvises’ Hanukkah party and got a taste of how fucked-up we are?”

“That’s actually true, yeah,” Karen admits. “You can tell us to back off, but, the offer’s out there.”

Karolina shrugs and grins, holding up her phone. “I just got a text from Molly saying they’re headed for ice cream in a few minutes, too,” she says. “I guess there was a memo. I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

“Skye!” Jemma exclaims, eyes wide. “And… children?” She wrinkles her nose. “Not children. Teenagers. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to patronize. Honestly, I call people my own age children sometimes. I just wasn’t expecting Skye to bring… people I didn’t know to… visit?”

Gert snorts. “Hi to you too,” she says with a smirk. “Girlfriend?” she adds, turning to Skye.

“Yeah. Jemma, this is Gert, Chase, and Molly,” says Skye. “Chase came in with a cracked phone screen, and while I was talking to them I learned that their home lives are some of the saddest shit I’ve ever heard, so I brought them over for ice cream.”

“Hi!” Molly beams at Jemma. “I like your accent!”

“Thank you!” Jemma says brightly. “It’s approximately a Yorkshire accent, though I’m sure I’ve picked up some strange things from who-knows-where over time. I like your hat! And Gert, your hair is beautiful. I’ve always wished I was brave enough to do something like that.” She takes a deep breath. “Chase, I’m so sorry to hear about… everything. All of you. Ice cream certainly sounds like it’s in order. Skye, please stop me from making a complete blathering fool of myself?”

“You’re okay,” Skye says, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss. “But yeah, ice cream. Think you can do something about that?”

“I’m actually off, which should be apparent given I’m not wearing an apron or standing behind the counter,” Jemma smirks, “but I feel fully confident passing you off to my new work-friend Abby!” She grins, then practically bounces back over to the counter where a very petite girl (also probably around high school age) is standing, looking apprehensive. “Abby just started with us a few weeks ago, but she’s picking up on things wonderfully.”

Abby cracks a smile. “You’re being inspirational again,” she says, sort of making it sound like a warning but in a fond way. “What can I get for you guys?”

Molly’s scanning the menu, eyes wide. “I haven’t had ice cream in a really long time,” she says. “There are so many!”

“I’ll take chocolate banana,” says Gert.

Chase is looking a little overwhelmed too. “I guess chocolate peanut butter?” he says finally. “With M&Ms.”

Molly takes a lot longer, and then finally says, “Twizzlers Treehouse?” like maybe she can’t believe this is really happening.

“Coming right up,” Abby chirps. “Oh, but first, how many scoops?”

“Wait. I can have _more than one?_ ”

Two minutes later Molly is determinedly trying to lick as much of her three-scoop cone as possible before it melts all over her, much to Gert’s amusement. “I told you if you were gonna get more than one to go for a cup,” she says smugly. Molly’s too preoccupied to do more than stick out her tongue at her very briefly before she has to chase yet another chocolate dribble down the side of the cone.

“Hey guys!” Chase calls, waving as he spots Nico, Karolina, and Alex coming towards them.

“Hey!” Alex grins. “Should’ve known you guys would beat us to the ice cream.”

“Did you guys have the same idea I had?” Skye asks Karen and Kara, grinning.

“Apparently,” Karen says. “Kar, you go pay for them, okay? I’m gonna go with Skye and Jemma to find a table big enough for all this.”

“Got it,” Kara replies with a cheerful salute.

“So have you heard about this cult shit?” Karen asks in a horrified whisper as they start scanning for a table.

“This what?” Jemma exclaims.

“Uh oh,” Skye says, now on high alert. “What happened now? Is this the same cult as Crystal’s cult or another one?”

“Another one, if you’d believe it,” Karen grumbles. “Way larger-scale and more official.”

“Crystal’s _does_ mostly just seem to be her strange family,” Jemma muses, frowning. “What’s this one, then?”

“Karolina’s mom apparently runs some nonsense that sounds like scientology on acid,” Karen explains. “Luckily she already realizes it’s bullshit, but still.”

“Jesus.” Skye shakes her head. “How’d you find out?”

“Her mom sent her to ask if she could hang posters,” Karen sighs. “Because I, personally, always go to random churches I see advertised at shopping malls.”

Wrinkling her nose, Skye replies, “Ew. I’m hoping Irani put the kibosh on that?”

“Thanks in no small part to our semi-subtle pleas, which were thanks in no small part to Nico straight-up telling us it was a cult,” Karen agrees. “Table? Right behind you?”

“Table!” Jemma declares, promptly throwing herself into one of the appropriately-many chairs to lay claim. “So between this and what Skye said about, you know…”

“What’s going on?” Karen asks Skye.

“Well, so Chase, the jock boy, he came into my store with the other two and a busted phone screen, and I asked him what happened, and his girlfriend told me his dad threw it against the wall. And I pushed a little and basically found out that his dad is the actual worst person and Gert and Molly’s parents aren’t that much better? So I brought them over here for ice cream and also I kind of want to adopt them, which is weird because I’m really not that much older than them, but whatever.” Skye shrugs.

“Jesus,” Karen says. “So it’s an all-around rescue mission then.”

“Guess so,” Skye says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s been awhile since we had to do that, I guess.” She smirks. “Speaking of which, how are you two lovebirds doing?”

“We’re pretty awesome,” Karen chuckles. “I’ve got basically a whole bureau in her bedroom by this point. Y’know, the usual.”

Jemma grins. “That’s charming,” she says. “Though I imagine you’re not planning on making the full move for awhile, lest the boys combust?”

“I’m pretty sure Foggy’s the one that keeps the house from combusting,” Karen shrugs, “but I’d like to think I bring a certain cohesiveness, yeah. Maybe once they’re out of school and keeping slightly more human hours I’ll let them fend for themselves.”

Skye giggles. “Good luck with that. I mean, I can’t really talk, but, y’know.”

Molly comes bounding over just then. “Thank you!” she says, throwing her arms around Skye. “That was _so_ good, oh my gosh!”

“You ate it fast enough,” Karolina teases. (She and all of the other slightly-older teenage are still working on their respective ice creams.)

“Like I said, it was really good,” says Molly with a shrug.

“She just does this,” Gert says fondly. “Anything with any sugar at all, it’s just, woosh, gone instantly. Worse than Old Lace.”

“Hey! Don’t compare me to the dog!”

“It’s cute,” Alex reassures her, “but totally accurate.”

“It’s fine,” Jemma says with a conspiratorial smirk. “You should see Skye when she gets a craving for snacks. No manners about it, completely adorable.” She nudges her girlfriend.

“ _Wow_ ,” Skye teases, bumping her shoulder against Jemma’s. “I see how it is. Throw me under the bus at the first opportunity.”

“Never!” Jemma exclaims. “I’m saying it’s no problem at all. Some people are just enthusiastic about food.”

“And some people are enthusiastic about tropical fish,” Skye replies playfully.

“They’re fascinating!” Jemma defends.

“So you two are also a you two?” Karolina asks, leaning forward in her seat. “That’s so cool!”

Skye grins. “Yeah, for...Jesus, like, three years now, right?” She grabs Jemma’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Actually, we’ve had four ‘I love you’ anniversaries by now,” Jemma says, clearly blushing. “So it’s been nearer to four years.”

“They’re like the original stable baby Sapphics around here, practically,” Kara chimes in. “It’s actually really admirable. And a little gross sometimes.”

Molly wrinkles her nose. “All of their relationships are pretty gross sometimes,” she says, gesturing to her friends. “Like I’m glad they’re happy, but also kissing is gross.”

“You don’t have to look,” Chase says, grinning.

“Yes I do,” she protests. “You and Gert make out in the house _all the time._ You don’t even close the door!”

“‘Cause Stacy freaks out if we do,” Gert says, rolling her eyes. “Like she wasn’t having sex when she was sixteen. Pretty irresponsibly too, from the stories she’s told me when she was drunk.”

Skye makes a face. “Ew. I missed all those stories from my mom, but also, my dad was awful and literally kidnapped me as a baby, so she kind of can’t talk even if she wanted to lecture me about sex stuff.”

“Wait, what the fuck?” Nico exclaims. “He did what now? That doesn’t even sound real.”

“Seriously. I guess he and my mom were living in China at the time and also fighting a lot, and he wanted to move to Milwaukee, which.” Skye pauses to look into a non-existent camera like she’s on _The Office_. “So anyway, he finally lost his shit and just like, took off in the dead of night with me and Mom had no idea where he went and wasn’t a super great English speaker yet, so she just...couldn’t find me for like twenty years. Dad got to the US with me and then committed a bunch of crimes or something and then I ended up in foster care.” She shrugs. “I still have no idea how that happened, but whatever. And then I got fed up and ran away and figured my shit out by myself.”

The teens all look horrified, and Chase is the first to say, “Jesus, I’m sorry, that’s awful.”

“Seriously,” Nico murmurs. She lets that moment pass before adding, none too reverently, “That’s pretty badass of you, though.”

“It’s what she does,” Jemma chimes in, kissing Skye’s cheek. “Be a badass, for herself or others. She’s really pretty incredible about getting things sorted out.” It’s clear she’s trying to make this into either a teachable moment or a conversational transition.

And luckily, Kara sort of picks up on that. “She was a big part of getting my shit back on track after everything, too,” she says, mostly to Nico and Karolina since they were already reminded of her whole sordid past. “Helped organize this whole rotation for who I’d crash with and stuff.”

Skye’s looking embarrassed, flattered, and uncomfortable all at once. “Okay!” she says brightly. “Not that I don’t love being told I’m the best, but that’s enough of that.” She laughs awkwardly and adds, “Uh, not to play Shitty Parent Olympics with you guys. Yours sound pretty awful too.”

Karolina sighs. “They’re not the greatest,” she says. “Different versions of, you know…”

“Crazy,” Nico says. “They’re all different versions of crazy. Want a psycho rage monster? Chase can point you to one of those. Stone cold bitch? Let me introduce you to my mom.”

“My parents aren’t that bad,” Alex says. “I mean, my dad has really high expectations of me and he’s ambitious to a fault. Or, a lot of faults, I guess.”

“A lot of faults,” Nico agrees. “And then you have two different kinds of delusional with the Yorkes and the Deans. It’s a whole thing. They’re allegedly all friends, but we have no idea why.”

Gert nods. “That’s mostly why we all know each other. Our parents kind of forced us to hang out when we were too little to know better, and mostly we’ve gotten along okay.”

“Mostly,” says Alex with a fond eyeroll.

“I’m sorry,” Skye says. “Look, I know it’s a little random, us just showing up and buying you guys ice cream, and you guys have other people in your corner, but...if you ever need anything, I’m available, okay?”

“Me too,” Jemma says quickly. “I’ve been fairly lucky in my family, in that they’re usually just garden-variety bad when they’re bad, but I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to deal with that kind of horrible every day, and I’d like to help balance that sort of thing if possible.”

“Same for us,” Kara adds, motioning between herself and Karen. “You’ve heard my whole sob story already, which I guess you could take as my inspiration to pay it forward or whatever, but also… seriously, it’s the decent thing.”

“If you want to take us up on it,” Karen concludes. “Which is your business, but still. We have to offer.”

The other kids glance at Alex, almost unconsciously, like he’s the leader of their group. He seems a bit surprised that they’re doing it, then nods. “Thanks,” he says. “I mean, we’ve already got each others’ backs, but it’s really nice of you to say that.”

“Yeah, but you’re all minors and stuff,” replies Skye. “There’s only so much you can do for each other, unfortunately. We have...I mean, we’re not like, lawyers or anything, but we have a little more leverage just ‘cause we’re older.”

“Actually,” Karen says, looking like she’s getting another brilliant idea, “my housemates _are_ lawyers. Almost, anyway.”

“Oh really?” Gert looks thoughtful. “Okay. Good to know.”

Molly looks a little confused, but then says, “Shouldn’t we get home? So Stacey doesn’t worry again?”

“Yeah, we should probably get going,” sighs Chase. “Thanks, again, for the ice cream and...y’know.”

“‘Course.” Skye gives them a last smile. “Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you forgot, Mr. Zabo is the worst!
> 
> But so are the Runaways' parents. They're all awful people. Please understand that their awfulness will be brought up often when their kids are around and prepare yourself accordingly.


	181. it's not the curtain closing causing us to call it a day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and his friends accidentally overhear their parents discussing something terrible and seek advice.

“Wow, you suck at bass,” Chase teases Nico. “We’re switching next round.”

“See if you can do any better,” Nico snarks. “Not all of us can be master button-pushers.”

“Children,” snarks Gert, from the corner where she’s on her phone. (She likes to say that she finds the commodification of music through games like _Rock Band_ disgusting, which everyone knows just means she’s embarrassingly bad at them.) “Play nice.”

“Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do during games?” Karolina asks, shrugging casually. “Playful trash-talk that doesn’t mean anything, or whatever.”

“Also, you guys are really bad at it,” Alex adds with a grin. “Anyway, I think my dad said there was snacks and stuff in the kitchen, if you guys want a break?”

“Yes please!” Molly says, who’s been making a valiant (if unfortunate) effort on drums.

“Thank you,” Victor mouths at Alex. He’s got headphones on, clearly trying to drown out the aural chaos.

Alex nods and heads out towards his house. It’s not a long walk from the pool house, so he doesn’t bother asking anyone to come with him.Sure enough, there’s giant bags of chips and also a veggie plate waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He grabs them and is about to leave when he hears voices down the hall.

That’s weird. Dad said they’d be at a conference today and not back until tomorrow afternoon. Alex puts the stuff back on the counter and tiptoes in the general direction of the voices. It sounds like they’re coming from his dad’s study.

The first voice he recognizes is his dad’s. “-acting like I told them to do this, which I can assure you I didn’t.”

“No one said you did, Geoffrey.” That’s Nico’s mom. “But it’s sure as hell suspicious when a building that’s been targeted by a company that we _all_ have shares in is suddenly blown up, isn’t it?”

“Who’s to say the company had anything to do with it?” That might be Chase’s dad. “Honestly, it was in a bad area. Maybe somebody who lived in the building had a hit on them.”

“And wouldn’t that be _convenient_ ,” snarks someone else. “Next time we have deal with something like this, how about we all get looped into the discussion before someone goes ordering a bomb?”

Alex’s eyes go wide. He saw something on the news the other day about a bomb that went off in an apartment complex in the next town over, and there were casualties and a lot of injuries, but… He backs away very quietly, only just remembering to grab the snacks off the counter before he dashes back to the pool house. “Guys!” he yelps.

They all look at him. “What’s up, Alex?” Gert asks. “You look freaked out, are you okay?”

“No,” Alex says, shaking his head. “I...I don’t know a lot, but I think some of our parents might have…” He takes a deep breath. “They’re in there talking about that apartment building that got blown up last week, and...and it kind of sounds like maybe one of them hired the bomber.”

“You’re shitting us,” Nico says, shaking her head. “You’re shitting us, right? They’re evil, but they’re not, like… _evil_.” She blinks in confusion. “Right?”

“I don’t know.” Alex is still shaking his head. “Maybe I misheard...I _hope_ I misheard.”

“Well, someone should go back in there and listen in on them more,” Gert says, as if it’s obvious. “We need more information.”

“I’m the smallest,” Molly says. “I could sneak in and use my phone to record them.”

“No, I should,” Chase says quickly. “It might be dangerous.”

Molly pouts. “I can take care of myself. If I get caught I can just say I was going to the bathroom or something.”

“What if they see your phone?” Karolina asks, clearly worried.

“I’ll keep it in my pocket,” says Molly with a shrug. “Besides, adults don’t really get mad at me if I act like I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m too cute.”

“She is the one who’ll get in the least trouble if they catch her,” Victor agrees.

“I don’t like this idea,” Gert says. “But if we tell you not to, you’re gonna do it anyway.” She sighs.

“Yep.” Molly smirks at her. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” She skips out of the pool house without another word.

“This is too unreal,” Karolina murmurs, twisting the rings on her fingers anxiously.

“I hope I’m wrong,” Alex says, “but it sounded bad.”

It’s a very tense fifteen minute until Molly returns. “Holy crap, guys,” she says, eyes wide. “They’re still fighting about it. I had to get out of there because Mr. Stein yelled some curse words and walked out and I almost got caught, but it sounded like maybe Mr. and Mrs. Minoru knew somebody who knew how to make bombs and all of the adults pitched in to hire that guy.”

“Play us the recording,” Nico says flatly.

Molly does, and they all listen, expressions ranging from horror to despair. “I...I knew Dad’s kind of an asshole sometimes, but this…” Chase swallows. “Oh my god.”

“What the fuck do we do now?” Gert says. “This is bad, this is _really_ bad.”

“Um, our apartment is really small but maybe you could come live with my mom and me?” Victor asks, sounding like he’s trying to hang onto his last shred of composure.

“I wouldn’t ask that of your mom,” Karolina exclaims.

“Yeah, I kind of don’t think that’s the best solution here,” Alex says, voice shaking only a little. “I don’t know _what_ to do, though.”

“Y’know, I’m kind of glad now that your parents left my mom out of their weird super-secret investors club,” says Victor. He doesn’t sound at all smug about this, just scared.

Molly comes over to nestle against Gert. “I wish Old Lace was here,” she says softly.

“Me too, kiddo.” Gert runs her hand through Molly’s hair. She looks just as scared as the rest of them, but she seems to be thinking. “Wait. Didn’t those one of those girls we talked to at the mall say something about how she has lawyer friends?”

“Karen, yeah,” Karolina says, frowning thoughtfully.

“They’re _almost_ lawyers, anyway,” Nico sighs. “Which might not be all that helpful.”

“We could ask, though!” Karolina declares.

“What do we even tell them?” Chase asks. “‘Hi, we overheard our parents talking about how they ordered a hit on a whole apartment building’?”

“I mean, nobody else has any better ideas, including me,” Alex points out. “Kar, you have her number, right?”

Karolina nods. “I kind of doubt they thought it would be this extreme when we needed to text for help, but I’m sure they’ll at least try?” she murmurs, sounding hopeful but strained all at once as she starts skimming through her phone for the number.

“What’s the best case scenario for all this?” Nico asks, slumping back against the couch and staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

“Sometimes in movies teenagers can get legally emancipated,” Molly says, starting to look hopeful. “That means they’re basically adults, right?”

“Sort of,” Gert says, “but it’s complicated. What, are we all gonna live in some giant house, all of us?”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Victor points out.

“We hang out together enough anyway,” Karolina agrees. “And, you know. It’s better than living with murderers. If our parents are really…” She trails off and sighs.

Chase snorts. “Worst case scenario is we all get split up and tossed into the system.” Then he realizes what he said and adds, “Shit, Mol, I’m sorry.”

Molly looks stricken. “Wait. Would they really do that if our parents paid that guy to blow up that building?”

Gert tightens her arms around Molly. “I’m not letting anybody split us up, Molly, I promise.”

“Didn’t that girl Skye say she’d been in foster care?” Nico asks, wrinkling her nose. “She didn’t seem all that thrilled with it. Maybe she’d be able to help us figure out how to avoid that.”

“Okay,” Karolina announces, “I texted Karen asking if maybe she could get us a chance to talk to her lawyer friends. Almost-lawyers. Whatever.” Her phone buzzes, and it’s obvious she’s surprised but pleased at how quick the response came. “She says yeah, but what’s up? She wants to know if we’re all okay.”

“‘Okay’ is an extremely relative term considering what we just learned,” snarks Gert, “but like, none of us got hurt or anything.”

“How much should I say in the text, though?” Karolina asks. “Or should I just go with ‘we’re not hurt but we need to meet up’ or something?”

“Maybe say something like ‘we found out some really bad stuff about our parents’?” suggests Alex.

“Alright,” Karolina agrees, biting her lip as she fires off a text and waits for the reply. “Okay, she wants to know what kind of bad, if we can say anything.” She makes a face. “So basically, are any of us in immediate danger.”

Chase makes an uncomfortable face. “I think I’ll stay over at your place tonight, if that’s okay,” he says to Gert. “If Dad really stormed out of there, he’s gonna be...y’know.”

Gert reaches for his hand and squeezes it. “No big deal,” she promises. “Staecy’ll make up the couch for you and stuff. Probably better not push my luck and try to sneak you upstairs.”

“So I think that’s a no,” Alex says to Karolina.

Karolina nods. “When do we want to meet up with them? Karen says they have time tomorrow afternoon, if that’s good.”

“I mean, I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea of being around my parents any longer than I have to, after that,” Gert says. “So, sure.”

 

* * *

 

Alex knocks on the door to the conference room. He’s wearing the suit he hasn’t worn since his grandpa’s funeral two years ago, and it’s _almost_ too small for him in the most annoying way. (The seven of them are all wearing their nicest outfits, plus Xavin, who is holding Karolina’s hand and keeping her close.) “Okay, so I’m starting out and then Molly’s gonna play them the recording, right?” He tries to sound more confident than he feels.

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t expecting _us_ to have a full legal case all lined out,” Nico points out, but clearly fondly.

“Probably not, but I think that recording’s pretty convincing,” snarks Gert.

“Not arguing with you there.”

Karen comes to the conference room door, markedly dressed down compared to the kids. (This is her weekend, she’s wearing her big fuzzy sweater.) “Hey, you guys,” she says, gentle but carefully not _too_ gentle. “Come on in.”

Alex smiles at her. “Thanks for talking to us. Um, I mean, getting your friends to talk to us.”

“Of course,” Karen exclaims. “We offered, we meant it. Anyway.” She smiles and gestures to the boys. “This is Matt and Foggy, and law is easily their most functional subject.”

Matt, who’s wearing dark glasses and using a cane, offers his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says with a smile. “I’m afraid I’m going to need introductions. It’ll take me a while to learn your voices.”

Everyone introduces themselves and then Foggy says, “Come in, sit down. Do you guys want any water or anything?”

“We’re okay,” Gert says. “But thanks.”

“Alright.” Matt sits down and turns to them expectantly. “Karen didn’t mention a lot of details. Can you tell me what exactly happened and what you heard?”

Alex takes a deep breath. “I went into the house to get snacks and I heard voices in my dad’s study. When I listened in, I realized it was both my parents, and Gert’s, Chase’s, Karolina’s, and Nico’s-”

“Gert’s parents are my legal guardians,” interrupts Molly. “If that’s important to know.”

“Why is that?” Foggy asks, not unkindly. “If you don’t mind saying.” He smiles reassuringly at her.

“My parents died,” Molly says. “When I was little, they died in a fire. The Yorkes adopted me after that.”

“I see,” says Matt. “You can continue, Alex.”

Alex nods. “So anyway, they were arguing about...I didn’t know what at first, but then I heard them talking about an apartment building that blew up, in Passburg. It was on the news, but I didn’t know that much about it. And...and it kind of sounded like they might have had something to do with it.”

“So Molly went in and recorded them,” adds Gert. She nudges Molly. “Play them the recording.”

Molly does. Foggy makes a series of increasingly horrified faces, while Matt doesn’t react beyond clenching his jaw tightly. Karen gasps and doesn’t even bother trying to hide it.

“So,” Alex says, once it’s over. “We’re pretty sure our parents paid a hitman to blow up that apartment building.”

“Oh my god,” Foggy says. “I mean.” He coughs, like he’s reminding himself to stay businesslike, and adds, “So are you thinking you want to report this to law enforcement?”

“We were sort of hoping you’d have an idea,” Karolina admits shyly. “This is pretty, you know. Out of our area of expertise.” She gives a nervous laugh and squeezes Xavin’s hand.

“Well, unfortunately I’m not sure how far you’d get with just the tape,” Matt says. “It’s easy to read between the lines, but none of them ever come out and say what they’re talking about or admit to direct involvement. Plus…” He pauses, then continues, “We have intel that says some of the cops are dirty.”

“Yeah, that came up at that party,” Nico says, sighing. “So even the ones that aren’t Nazis might be in someone’s pocket. Really helpful.”

“I don’t really like cops anyway,” Molly says, making a face.

Karen nods in understanding. “There’s a couple that aren’t awful,” she muses, “but I don’t blame you.” She makes a face, then asks Matt and Foggy, “So what are their other options?”

Matt coughs and says, quietly, like he’s only talking to Foggy and Karen, “I could take care of things.”

“Matt!” yelps Foggy. “ _No!_ ” He glances at the others, giving them a very fake-looking smile. “Ignore him, he has Batman ambitions.”

“I like Batman!” Molly chirps. “But mostly just the cartoons, he’s a jerk in a lot of the movies.”

Alex looks confused. “But Batman doesn’t kill anyone if he doesn’t have to.”

Matt makes an uncomfortable face and replies, “I never said anything about killing.”

“Okay, let’s move away from the vigilante talk now,” says Gert quickly. “What about legal emancipation? Is that an option for us?”

“Wow, they teach kids a lot more than they used to when we were in school,” muses Foggy.

Gert looks smug. “Mock trial,” she says. “Alex and I are opening and cross.”

“Nice,” Matt says. “Cross is my favorite too.”

“He’s really good,” says Foggy. “Anyway, uh, I haven’t really done that much family law, and I’ll need to look into the specific protocols for this area. It might not be possible for you guys to file on your own, you might have to have an adult do it for you.”

Chase narrows his eyes. “If we do this and we lose, will they put us all in foster care?”

“It’s possible,” Matt says. “How old are all of you, anyway?”

“I’m eighteen in August,” Alex offers. “Everybody else is younger than me.”

“By two months,” Nico snaps, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big of a difference, he just likes to brag about it.”

Alex grins over at her. “It’s enough.”

“I’m fifteen,” says Molly. “But I’m supposed to get my learner’s permit soon!”

Foggy nods. “Okay, so especially the older of you, the court probably won’t push for foster care since you’re less than a year away from legal adulthood anyway. It’s possible Molly’s being adopted could work in our favor, too.”

“I also have money!” Molly adds quickly. “My parents left me some. I saw an envelope on Dale’s desk and opened it.”

“And my mom wasn’t part of this whole bullshit bomb plot,” chimes in Victor. “Do you think maybe we could argue for some kind of like, legal guardian system with her?”

“Would she be good with that?” Karen asks.

Victor shrugs. “I’d need to ask her, but she likes you guys. She wouldn’t want you to have to stay with your parents if they killed somebody.”

Xavin’s been pretty quiet, but they add, “I also have access to money, if that’s an issue.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Matt says quickly. “We want to help.”

Foggy sighs. “Well, we can definitely work something out, anyway. A sharp discount. Not that we don’t want to help, but we have rent and stuff,” he adds quickly.

“Matt would honestly accept fruit as payment,” Karen explains with a smirk. “Foggy’s the practical one.”

Matt snorts and replies, “I’m not _that_ ridiculous.”

“You kind of are,” Karen says. “But, um, I did want to talk about some of the non-legal options with you guys, too. Like the things we can do that don’t need a lawyer.”

“What kind of stuff is that?” Karolina asks, wrinkling her nose.

Karen shrugs. “So I was thinking about what we did for Kara,” she begins, mostly addressing her boys, “with getting those lists of people for her to crash with and drive her places and stuff. Getting a support system set up.” She sighs. “Obviously we wouldn’t be able to work it the same way, since having a bunch of high school kids crashing with adults they aren’t related to or anything would probably raise some red flags, but…”

“Makes sense,” agrees Matt. “Is that something you all would be comfortable with? Maybe just having emergency numbers in case you need someone to pick you up, or if things really go south and you need somewhere to stay for a night?”

“I’m pretty sure most of us needed an emergency contact even before our parents were murderers,” Nico snarks.

“Sure, but better late than never,” Foggy replies. “How were you thinking of doing this?” he asks Karen.

“Well, we oughta split it up, probably,” Karen says. “Like everyone gets a couple different numbers. I made a list of who’d probably be up for helping.” She hands Foggy her phone to show him.

Foggy reads through it and nods. “I mean, Matt and I can do it too,” he says. “Of course.”

“Can I pick you guys?” Gert asks. “I actually have some questions about law school. I’m still deciding between that and gender studies.”

Matt looks pleased. “Sure, yeah. Our house isn’t huge and we just rent it, but you’re welcome there.”

“I’m offering too,” Karen says, smiling at the teenagers. “I mean, I live with those two, technically, but I’m not part of their package deal.” She smirks.

Karolina raises her hand, smiling sheepishly. “If that’s okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Karen agrees, adding that to the list. “Honestly, if you just need to text someone for, I don’t know, perspective or advice or anything, too, that’s an option. But no pressure.”

“No, totally,” Karolina nods. “Thanks.”

“Alex, Nico, since you guys are already in the mall circle, I was thinking it’d make sense if you had Mack and Jess as contacts?” Karen suggests. “Well, Jess and Trish and Luke, they come as a unit too.”

“I’m cool with that,” Nico says. “I’d trust Jessica to, I dunno, punch my enemies or whatever.”

Karen laughs (a little nervously). “She… definitely would do that,” she agrees.

Alex laughs at what his girlfriend said and then adds, “Yeah, Mack’s cool. He’s been looking after me at work and stuff.”

“He’s a good guy,” Karen says.

“I could text Wanda,” Chase offers. “We hung out at her and her brother’s place awhile back and they’re cool.”

“Oh, would it be cool if I called dibs on Kara for my other number?” Nico asks Karen. “I mean, she’s your girlfriend, I figure she’s on that list of yours. And she seems cool.”

Karen nods. “Already got the go-ahead from her,” she says, waving her phone. “Chase, you sorta know the twins and Jane too, right?”

“Oh, sure, yeah. Wanda and Pietro I know better, I don’t have Jane's number but we’ve chatted and stuff.” Chase laughs. “I mean, mostly Thor and I have, but she’s nice. Just way smarter than me.”

“You’re plenty smart,” Gert chides him fondly. “You just don’t know anything about astrophysics. Which most normal people don’t.”

“Luckily, Jane and Thor kinda come together, too,” Karen chuckles. “Anyway, I put something up on our secret internet - it’s like a private chatroom some of us in the mall use - and Skye volunteered her and Jemma. Maybe for Molly? Since we don’t have anyone for her yet.” Well, that and Skye directly mentioned Molly and wanting to help her out (something about “smols without bio-parents”), but she figures that doesn’t need to be shared with the group.

“Okay!” Molly says. “I liked them, they were really nice. And Jemma said she has a cat!”

“Kind of a reclusive cat,” Karen says, “but I bet she’d warm up to you or something.” She smiles. “Steve also volunteered his bunch to be someone’s contacts.”

“I think Gert would get along with them,” Matt says. “They’re always at the frontlines of the Nazi-punching.”

Gert perks up. “Sure, yeah, sounds good.”

“I can talk to Elena too, about you, Molly,” Matt adds. “She’s Colombian. I don’t know if the dialect she knows is close to yours, but…”

“Okay! Dale and Stacey try to speak Spanish to me sometimes, but they’re pretty bad at it. They can’t roll their R’s at all.”

“Misty and Colleen volunteered, too,” Karen says. “They’re badasses. And you guys met Elektra, right? She’s in.”

Foggy’s eyes go wide. “Uh, is that really the best idea?”

“And I quote,” Karen begins, reading from the text she apparently just received, “‘I have nearly limitless financial resources if they’re needed, a spare bedroom in a highly fortified apartment, and the ability to not only kick the asses of anyone who tries to harm them but to teach them to do the same.’” She coughs, trying not to smirk about the fact that somehow these kids activated the protective instinct in Elektra. “She suggested being a contact for you, Karolina? Because you’d probably be more comfortable having, you know. Girls to get a hold of instead of boys. No offense to boys,” she adds to Matt and Foggy, smug as anything.

“None taken,” says Foggy, rolling his eyes.

“That would be okay,” Karolina says. “Elektra seems, uh, pretty cool.” And apparently (attractively) intimidating, given the simultaneously awestruck and embarrassed and just a little _interested_ look on Karolina’s face.

Xavin chuckles. “You okay there?” they murmur.

“Yeah,” Karolina says, shrugging it off. There’s no surprise about Xavin noticing… that.

“What are Misty and Colleen like?” Alex asks.

“Misty’s a security guard at the college, and Colleen runs a self-defense club there. Uh, I think Misty plays basketball in her spare time?” Foggy shrugs. “I don’t know them that well, but they seem cool.”

“Sure. As long as they’re cool with video games.”

“I don’t think it’d be a problem,” Karen chuckles. She consults her phone for a minute before declaring, “So everyone’s got a couple of emergency contacts set up, let me get all their numbers and start distributing.”

Karolina smiles. “Thank you for helping with this,” she says. “It’s way above and beyond.”

“Sure thing,” Matt says. “Like I said, we want to help however we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are not lawyers or anything remotely resembling (though one of us does have mock trial experience from years ago). Consider this a disclaimer regarding the legitimacy or potential lack thereof of legal content.


	182. a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crystal finally realizes it's time for her to be where the people are.

It’s an unusual day, because usually she eats lunch by herself, but today Pietro and Crystal are on campus helping some of her classmates with a study on adolescent development. So Wanda’s with her brother and friend, listening to them talk about the study. (She has no idea what went on in it; she wasn’t allowed to use them for her group’s project.)

“I don’t think I was very helpful,” says Pietro cheerfully. “Father gave me a frank explanation of how sex worked when I asked him after watching a nature documentary, but he and Mother didn’t talk about it much.”

Wanda giggles. “Oh dear. I hope they weren’t too annoyed with you.”

“No, I just got through the questions quicker than everyone else.” He shrugs and turns to Crystal. “You were talking to them for awhile, though.”

“Yes,” Crystal mumbles, staring into her cocoa. “It was, ah. Potentially enlightening.”

“How so?” asks Wanda, tilting her head. “You’re alright, aren’t you? I hope it wasn’t harmful to you to talk about things like that.”

“Oh, no,” Crystal reassures, eyes wide. “It’s just… it’s one more thing that’s sort of proved to me that, uh.” She winces. “My family isn’t normal.”

Pietro makes a face. “What kinds of things did they teach you about sex?”

“It’s not so much what they taught me as, well, they did,” Crystal sighs. “Do. Medusa and her husband have a… calendar. For intercourse. And they do it in a special room. Actually a special building.”

“ _Building?_ ” Wanda asks, eyes wide. “I have heard of couples scheduling time for sex, that doesn’t seem quite so irregular, but...a separate building for it?”

“Just a small one,” Crystal rushes to clarify. “In the backyard. Like a poolhouse, or a really fancy shed?” This doesn’t make it sound better.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. “I thought that was what beds are for. The kind you sleep in.”

“I think there’s a bed in the room-building?”

“Well, I would hope so,” Wanda says, “but...why do they have a separate building for it?”

Crystal shrugs. “It’s all very formal,” she says. “I don’t really know why? Maybe it’s just so they can be alone. Like I said, it’s scheduled. Once every other week. It’s a very special time.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose. “I guess if that works for them...but it’s not what most people do, from what I know.”

“It’s odd,” Pietro says bluntly. “Nobody I’ve ever heard of has sex every other week in a sex shed.”

“When I was little, Gorgon and Karnak would have game night with me during their intercourse appointments,” Crystal continues. “It was more fun once Karnak stopped trying so hard to win all the time, but I enjoyed it. Then I asked why Medusa couldn’t play and…” She shrugs. “They were just distracting me so I didn’t interrupt. I think they accidentally called it a ritual one time.”

Wanda bursts into nervous giggles, then covers her mouth quickly. “I’m sorry,” she says, “that just sounds so…”

“You can say it,” Crystal sighs.

“Ridiculous,” Pietro says. “I’m sorry your family is so ridiculous.”

“Mostly _I_ just feel ridiculous for not realizing it sooner,” Crystal says.

Frowning sympathetically, Wanda says, “I think a lot of people don’t realize how unusual or messed up their home lives are until they’re older.” Then she pauses for a second before adding, “Do you...um, want to perhaps think about making your own life, like we’ve talked about?”

Crystal nods, sort of timidly. “I think it’s time,” she says. “I, I don’t know where to start, though.”

“I don’t either,” Pietro says, patting her on the back. “But we’ll be here to help you.”

“I can ask Raina,” Wanda says, pulling out her phone. “She knows how to get out of bad situations.”

“It’s so strange to think about the fact that I’m in a bad situation,” Crystal murmurs.

Wanda nods. “I think it takes most people awhile to realize that their bad situations are bad. But we’re here to help you, however you want it.”

“Thank you,” Crystal says, smiling almost shyly.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad Raina made friends with Aida,” Pietro says cheerfully, tossing a Swedish Fish into his mouth. “They get good discounts on candy.”

Wanda smirks fondly at him. “Is that the only reason you like them? They let you buy cheap candy?”

“No, but it’s a big part of it,” says Pietro with a shrug.

“So we’re just meeting Raina?” Crystal asks, glancing around nervously.

“Yes, she should be here soon,” Wanda says. “Oh! Here she comes.” She waves, as if it isn’t obvious where the three of them are.

“We should move tables,” Raina says in greeting. “This might be sort of small for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Crystal asks, frowning. “Oh, is Lorelei coming? Or Aida?”

“Yeah, but neither of them is off yet,” Raina says, shrugging. “I rallied some of the troops.”

Skye trots up, with Jemma, Bobbi, and Trip in tow. “Hey!” she says, grinning. “We’re here for a rescue mission!”

“If that’s all right,” Jemma amends shyly.

“Oh!” Crystal exclaims. “It is, I just… wasn’t expecting?”

“It’s no big,” Trip says, smiling reassuringly. “We like helping people and you seem cool.”

Crystal bites her lip. “This has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” she asks Wanda and Pietro quietly.

“Not a _long_ time,” says Pietro nonchalantly. “But since we became good friends, I guess.”

“Really?” Crystal presses. “Has everyone been in on it the whole time?” She gasps. “Was that what Victoria meant when she gave me that gift certificate for the hair salon?”

“Well, I think she also thought you should fix your hair,” Pietro replies, not unkindly. “But yes, also that.”

“We don’t mean it in a bad way,” Wanda says. “But you are our friend and we don’t want you to be trapped in a life you don’t want.”

“Thank you,” Crystal murmurs, reaching to squeeze their hands.

“We should sit,” Raina declares, nodding at the larger table she’s located. “Wanda, dear, do you want to call us to order?”

Once they’re all seated, Wanda coughs awkwardly. “Ah, hello,” she says, trying to smile at everyone. “Thank you all for coming. I wanted us to meet today so we could talk about helping Crystal...um…” She suddenly looks at a loss for words.

“Escape the cult she lives in,” chimes in Pietro helpfully.

Crystal makes a face. “Oops?”

“So what are we thinking?” Skye asks. “I mean, how are we doing this?”

“I need to get out,” Crystal says sheepishly. “But that’s about as far as I’ve gotten.”

“Well, I was talking with my mom,” Skye says. “She started a nonprofit in San Fransokyo that helps abused women get out of bad situations and get back on their feet and stuff. She was saying maybe if you tell your family you want to go experience the world for a year, or whatever, and compare it to Rumspringa, that might work. Rumspringa’s what Amish kids do when they grow up, so they can see what the outside world is like and if they wanna stay Amish or leave for good,” she adds quickly. Judging from what Wanda said, Crystal might not even know who the Amish are.

Crystal nods slowly, like she’s processing this. “The Amish, right,” she says. It sounds familiar, sort of? “So it’s like I’d be testing my faith. Even though I don’t really think I have any of that.”

“Yeah,” agrees Skye. “Or however you want to look at it, I dunno.”

“But I don’t wanna go back,” Crystal frowns. “That’s the whole reason I want to leave.” She sounds apologetic, like she knows she’s missing something.

“Oh, I know, but _they_ don’t have to know that,” Skye says quickly. “It’s basically because that might go over better for them than for you to suddenly disappear without a trace, or tell them to fuck off and just leave, or whatever. That way they have time to get used to you being gone.”

“So it’s more of a test for them,” Crystal says.

“Yeah. If they react really badly to this idea, or they push back on it while you’re gone, you’ll be able to figure out how to go forward from there.”

Crystal’s eyes go wide. “What if they react badly to this? What do I do then?”

“Well,” Bobbi interjects, making a face, “at that point some of us would probably have to step in and, no offense, rescue your ass. We’d be willing to do that, don’t worry.”

“Do you think they’d be likely to do that?” Jemma asks. “Should we have Matt and Foggy look into restraining orders, perhaps?”

“I’m not sure that would be necessary,” Crystal muses. “They’re not really violent. I mean, Maximus was, he was very prone to physically inappropriate reactions and cruelty, but he’s been dead for years. That’s why my family doesn’t believe in public transportation anymore.”

Trip blinks. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

Crystal shrugs. “It’s fine,” she says. “He wasn’t a good person and I never trusted him, even before I realized my family was so strange.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Skye says, “but I have to ask about the public transportation thing.”

“He was in a bus crash,” Crystal declares. “It was hard on my sister and her husband. I mostly had to pretend to be upset, though.”

Skye claps a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles behind it, eyes bright. “I really shouldn’t laugh, that’s not funny.”

“No, not really,” Crystal says, “but it did feel sort of lucky, even though that’s bad to think.”

Trip is making a weird face. “He didn’t like...do anything to you, did he?”

“He talked around doing things a little bit,” Crystal admits, “but he never actually did. If he’d tried Gorgon would have stopped him.”

“Well, that’s...something,” Trip says, still looking uncertain. “Do you think maybe it would help if you, I dunno, had him as a point of contact? Maybe your family would be chill if they knew you were sending updates.”

“That’s not a horrible idea,” Crystal agrees thoughtfully. “He’s kind. I don’t think he’s, what’s the word, accountable? I don’t think he’s accountable for a lot of the strange things like the others are.”

“That’s good,” Jemma chirps. “Perhaps you could talk to him before you talk to the others? So he knows your plan, so he’s sort of… on your side?”

“Perhaps,” Crystal echoes. “But, ah, I’m not sure what my plan is, entirely? I don’t know where I’m going to _go_ , I mean. And I have Lockjaw to account for, too.”

“Actually,” Raina begins, “about that…”

 

* * *

 

“Huh,” Skye says as she pulls up her van to the address Raina texted her. “This...is not what I imagined Raina’s house would look like.”

“It’s very normal,” Crystal agrees from the backseat, where she’s sandwiched between the twins. “Is that what you mean?”

Skye snickers. “Yeah, pretty much. I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t...this.”

“I like it,” Crystal declares. “You saw my sister’s house, I don’t have high standards, but at least this place doesn’t look like a giant sad garage.”

Jemma, in the passenger seat, turns around with a frown. “Yes, I was wondering about that,” she says. “If they’re meant to be so in tune with the natural world, why do they live in a concrete fortress? Do you know?”

Crystal shrugs. “The structure was abandoned, so it’s like recycling. And Medusa doesn’t like money very much. She’s not good at it.”

Skye snorts. “Hell of a flaw for a business owner.” She opens her door. “Alright, everybody out! Let’s get started.”

The instant Lockjaw’s out of the car, he walks over to the door and sits in front of it expectantly. “Just a sec, buddy,” Trip says, reaching to scratch behind his ears. Lockjaw licks him enthusiastically.

“He looks too large for the porch,” Jemma remarks, giggling.

Before anyone has a chance to knock, Raina opens the door. Her hair is twisted up and she’s in her thrift store 90s floral, which means she’s ready to work. “It’s a good thing I know he behaves himself in the house,” she remarks, smirking.

“Of course he does!” Crystal says. “He’s a very good boy.”

Pietro waves. “Hello!” he calls to Raina. “We didn’t crash!”

“Wow,” snarks Skye. “Thanks for the faith in my driving skills.”

“You’re a better driver than me,” Pietro replies with a shrug, “I get too bored.”

Raina waves, chuckling. “I’m guessing getting him settled is the first priority,” she says. “I dog-proofed a part of the backyard, so you can take him back there without him getting in any of the flowerbeds.”

“Or the firepit,” Lorelei adds wryly, appearing over Raina’s shoulder. (She decidedly _isn’t_ dressed to work, which surprises no one.) “Couldn’t have him mucking that up, after all.”

“Is that supposed to mean something special?” Crystal asks Wanda under her breath.

Wanda rolls her eyes and chuckles. “I think probably that just has something to do with them being sex friends.”

“ _Anyway,_ ” Skye says, “you guys ready for us to start unloading stuff out of the truck? I mean, there’s not that much, but.”

“The bedroom’s all cleared out,” Raina says. “I wasn’t sure how much furniture you were bringing or how much we’d need to go buy, but there’s space for whatever you have.”

“I don’t really have much furniture,” Crystal says sheepishly. “Mostly I brought clothes and little personal things and… yeah. I didn’t want to press my luck by asking for any of the big stuff my family has collected over the years.” She looks a little sad about this, though probably not because of any sentimental attachment to the stuff.

“So there are a lot of shopping trips on the horizon,” Raina surmises. “Lucky for you, kid, you found one hell of a benefactress.” She grins.

Crystal goes to the van to get one of her boxes but also kind of to hide the fact that she’s blushing. “Thank you,” she says. “Again.”

“You’re welcome,” Raina says, “but you don’t need to keep thanking me, all right? It’s what I do.” Meaning, of course, that helping her friends is what she does, but that’s just a touch too soft to say outright.

Lorelei laughs in the back of her throat and pets Raina’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you the way,” she says to the kids with boxes.

“Trip, would you take care of Lockjaw?” Crystal asks as she heads back. “Just take him out back so he can run around a little, okay?”

“Of course.” Trip grabs the dog’s leash and starts to lead him off. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go play.”

Jemma heads into the house, warily looking around like she sort of expects to get caught by sentient vines or something, but when she catches Raina watching her stare she hurries to say, “Everything is very nice!”

Skye takes pity on her and says, “C’mon, let’s grab that heavy box full of books and stuff.”

After they’ve unloaded everything, everyone kind of just collapses idly onto the couch and stares at each other for a few minutes. “So what is it going to be like at work?” Crystal asks.

Raina smirks indulgently. “Luckily, selling herbal paraphernalia and semi-independently-produced knitwear to stoners isn’t that much different than selling herbs and more-independently-produced local crafts to stoners with more money,” she says. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I just can’t believe you’re giving me a place to live _and_ a job,” Crystal says, grinning. “It seems too good to be true.”

Lorelei (whose lap Raina is currently sitting in) gives an artfully faux-casual shrug. “Sometimes good luck happens,” she says. “On a slightly different note, if you want, I’ll teach you how to get free stuff out of men. It’ll save a few dollars for you while you’re getting started.”

“Maybe,” Crystal squeaks. “Not right now. I’m going to be busy getting used to everything else.”

Just then the doorbell rings, and Pietro zips over to answer it (he’s been fidgeting the whole time they’ve been sitting down). “Hi Aida!” he says, grinning. “Did you bring candy?”

“There’s some in my bag,” Aida sighs, though they’re amused. “But I also brought the bed frame you picked out and ordered. I can get started putting it together, if you’d like.”

Jemma blinks in surprise. “Did you haul that from your car all by yourself? Isn’t it heavy?”

“I managed,” Aida says, both cheerfully and evasively.

“You can work on that in a little,” Raina says. “Pietro, would you be a dear and run to the kitchen for the champagne and glasses? I wanted to give a toast to Crystal’s new life.”


	183. and I always felt it before, that the world was filled much more than the drowning soul I've learned to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elena meets someone that could use her help.

“So, I’ve heard that you’re trying to branch out and date women,” Elena says as she and Bereet stroll through the mall. They haven’t talked much, but Bereet was leaving the GameStop just as Elena was leaving Ross, so they’re walking out together. “And how is that going for you?” She grins playfully.

Bereet laughs. “Still kind of in the looking phase,” she says. “Not my fault most of the cute girls around here are taken. Or straight, I guess, but that doesn’t really apply to the circles I’m looking in.”

That makes Elena laugh too. “My sympathies. I still am not sure how I ended up with my girlfriend. I think perhaps it was luck more than anything.”

“Luck and knowing what you were looking for, maybe,” Bereet suggests. “Not wasting your time with decently-intentioned but dim guys.” She rolls her eyes.

Elena shrugs. “Everyone goes at their own pace. You will figure it out.”

“That’s the hope,” Bereet sighs. “How’s it going for you and Akela, though? God, you guys were like the _dream_ at Halloween.”

“Well, thank you.” Elena smirks. “We are doing just fine. I am trying to figure out what to do for her for Valentine’s, which is difficult. I’m not much for romance.”

“Do you have any idea what she’s doing for you?” Bereet asks. “That way you know what scale to be on?”

“She has been working on some big secret project and I’m not allowed to look at it while I’m over at her apartment,” Elena says. “I think it is probably a drawing. She draws sometimes. I might get her a nice knife, she likes those.”

Bereet nods. “That sounds like a good plan, yeah,” she says. “How do you go out and buy knives? I’ve never bothered to try, except, like, kitchen knives.”

Elena chuckles. “I think you can go to a specialty store, but I’ll probably just look online-” She’s interrupted by a thumping noise from nearby. Glancing around, she spots Bobbi and Malcolm knocking on the gate of the Mattress Firm, which is closed. “What is going on?” she asks, walking over to them.

“We heard something from inside the store,” Bobbi explains, sighing a little. “So either someone’s stuck in there, which isn’t great, or someone’s in there on purpose. Robbing the place or… who knows what.” She makes a face. “And this used to be the RadioShack, y’know. Mack told me when he worked there a not-insignificant number of his coworkers were Hydra.” She doesn’t feel like she needs to elaborate on why this is cause for extra worry.

“Oh no,” Elena says. “Should I go and get Maria?”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Bereet muses, frowning at the gate. “She’d have a key, right?”

“Probably.” Elena jogs off in the direction of the security office.

A minute later she and Maria return, Maria looking concerned. “So you think someone’s in there, huh?”

“We’re not sure,” Malcolm says, “we can’t really see very well in there. But it kind of sounds like someone or something was moving around. And, y’know, there used to be Hydra people working here.”

“Taking a look around would probably be a good idea,” Bobbi adds, “but it’s your call.”

Maria seems to consider this for a moment, and then says, “I’m not sure…” Then there’s a loud noise from inside, like something’s been knocked over. “Nope,” she says, grabbing her flashlight and using the other to unlock the gate, “better check that out. You all stay out here.”

She goes in, and it’s not a huge store but it’s hard for any of them to see what’s going on from where they’re standing, so for a couple of minutes they just stand there awkwardly waiting. Then there’s what sounds like a small scuffle and Maria grunting, “Come _here_ , goddammit!” Then Maria emerges, leading someone in front of her. It’s a scrawny black teenager, can’t be more than sixteen. “I found the culprit,” she says. “He was holed up in there. Says his name is Flint and he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I could’ve told them that myself,” Flint grumbles, grabbing his backpack strap tight like it’s somehow a defense mechanism.

“C’mon,” Maria says, not unkindly. “I have to take you to the office for questioning. And then...look, I don’t want to just throw you out into the street if you have nowhere else to go. You’re sure you can’t find somewhere else to stay?”

“I wasn’t stealing,” Flint insists. “I just figured… it’s not hurting anyone if I crash there, and it’s a hell of a lot safer than a park bench.” He rolls his eyes.

“What about a shelter?” Bereet asks softly. “I know there’s one around here.”

“Yeah, which would be great if some of the guys there hadn’t decided I was their personal punching bag,” Flint says. “Or if the folks running the place had decided to believe me about it.”

Elena frowns. “And you really don’t have anywhere else to go?”

Flint shakes his head, squirming a little and definitely avoiding eye contact. “Not that I could get to tonight, anyway,” he says, which is an elaborate way of saying no that’s sort of supposed to keep them from pitying him.

“How old are you, Flint?” Elena asks.

“Almost seventeen,” he says, sounding much younger than that.

Elena shakes her head, looking sad for just a second before she says, “You can stay with me tonight. I have a couch.”

“Or me,” adds Malcolm. “I mean, I barely have a couch, but.”

“No offense,” Flint says, “but that sounds a little too good to be true.”

Elena snorts in amusement. “Okay, so you can do some cleaning for me. We can consider it a trade. Is that better?”

“Maybe,” Flint shrugs, looking at her curiously. “Who even are you?”

“My name is Elena,” she says. “I work over at Ross. And I’ve slept on a park bench myself enough times that I want to make sure you don’t have to.”

His eyebrow goes up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So, go answer Maria’s questions and then we can get out of here, hm?”

 

* * *

 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Elena asks, flipping on the light as they enter her apartment.

“You have juice?” Flint asks back, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Yes, actually,” she says, going into the kitchen. “Just orange, is that alright?”

“Orange is awesome,” he promises. “Uh, can I sit? Somewhere?”

“There is the couch and then a couple chairs in there,” she calls. “It’s a mess.” She doesn’t bother apologizing. He won’t care.

“I’ll try not to squash anything,” he replies, smirking as he settles at one end of the couch.

She laughs as she brings him a glass of orange juice. “You’ll be fine,” she says. “Let me get some blankets for the couch.”

“Thanks,” he says, setting his backpack at his feet before he sips the juice, clearly trying not to rush through it.

“You want anything else?” she calls back. “I have some leftover chicken I can warm up.”

“Oh, geez, would you mind?” he exclaims.

“Not at all. Give me just a minute.”

She returns with a steaming plate of chicken and rice and a stack of blankets. “Here,” she says with a smile.

Flint stares at the food for a second, like he can’t really believe it’s there. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he has to ask.

Elena sits down on the other side of the couch and shrugs. “Seems like the right thing to do. And you seem like a nice kid.”

“I’m not really a kid,” he points out, sort of wryly.

“You said you were almost seventeen? To me, that’s a kid,” she replies with a smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“I don’t really feel like one, is all.” He makes a face.

“I understand. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. And we can talk about what cleaning you can do for me tomorrow. It is too late to worry about that now. I have books, if you would like to borrow them, or we could watch a movie. Or I could just leave you alone if you would prefer that. I would understand that too.”

“I dunno,” Flint says after a moment of consideration. “I don’t mind the company. It’s kind of nice talking to someone for more than a couple seconds.”

“Alright,” Elena says, smiling. “Well, we can talk if you want to, but we don’t have to. I am working on a scarf at the moment so I can go get that if you’d prefer silence.”

“You knit? That’s cool,” he declares. “I always kinda wanted to learn, but. Y’know.”

“Really? I have books around here somewhere. I’d be happy to lend them to you. It’s not actually difficult once your fingers get used to it.” Elena looks at him for a minute, tilting her head. “So what do you know how to do, Flint?”

He shrugs, suddenly awkward. “I’m okay at making stuff, like putting stuff together,” he says. “Building stuff. And I’m pretty good at being sneaky.” That’s sort of a joke, clearly.

Elena grins. “Well, that part was obvious. What do you like to build?”

“Whatever,” Flint says. “I mostly just help people with whatever they need to build, but I like doing it. I like seeing that I did something useful, I guess.”

“That makes sense. I have a friend you might like to meet, he does welding. His name is Mack.” Elena seems to think for a minute and then says, “I will text him tomorrow and see if he’s busy. Maybe you could help him out with some projects too.”

“I’d like that,” he agrees. “I’ve never really… welded, but that sounds cool.”

“Good,” she says, nodding. “He has a little girl so they are probably asleep now, but I don’t think he has any plans tomorrow. He actually used to work in the space you were hiding in, it used to be a RadioShack.”

“Aw, how little?” he asks, grinning.

“Four. It’s sort of a long story,” she says with a chuckle. “He is her biological father but he adopted her a few months ago. Her name is Hope. I’ve watched her a couple of times, she’s sweet. She will probably ask you a lot of questions, she is very curious.”

“She sounds cute,” Flint says. “What’s he do now, if he’s not at RadioShack?”

“He works at Best Buy, across from the mall. Mostly fixing gadgets for people, I think. He likes fixing things too. I know he used to work on cars sometimes.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” he declares. “He’s probably way techie, then, huh?”

“Oh yes. I don’t understand some of what he talks about, but he gets very excited. I think you will like him. And I think he will like you.”

“That works out, then,” he quips.

 

* * *

 

Elena leaves Flint sleeping on her couch the next day (with a note telling him where she’s gone, when she’ll be back, and that he can eat anything he wants in the apartment) and goes to meet Mack, Bobbi, Skye, Jemma, and Trip at the mall’s food court. Mack and Skye are working today, but they’re taking lunch at the same time so they can have this meeting.

“Okay, so what exactly happened?” Skye asks once they’re all sitting. “Bobbi said you guys found a homeless kid crashing in Mattress Firm?”

“Yes,” says Elena with a nod. “His name is Flint. He’s sixteen and he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to go. He says some of the older boys who stay at the homeless shelter fight him if he tries to stay there.”

Jemma makes an indignant noise. “What arses,” she exclaims. “And nobody’s done anything about it?”

“That’s what it sounded like,” Bobbi sighs.

Skye’s starting to look like she wants to go kick the guys’ asses herself. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

“Well, that’s why I asked Mack to come,” says Elena. “I thought maybe because you…ah...well, I do not know anything about children,” she says with a shrug.

Mack raises an eyebrow. “I know about four-year-olds,” he says, sounding a little confused. “Sort of. Hope’s honestly ahead of the curve in a lot of ways.”

“Still. It’s more than I know,” Elena replies. “Or most of us. So I thought perhaps you could help, maybe. I want to see if we can get him enrolled in school, and maybe find him a part-time job. At least one of those. He says he likes making things, so I thought maybe the two of you would get along well.”

“He’s sixteen, you said?” Jemma interrupts. “He should definitely be in school, then. Goodness, he’s probably missed… do you know, ah, how long he’s been....?” She winces, because that’s such an awkward question, but it needs to be asked.

Elena shrugs. “I didn’t want him to feel like he was being interrogated, so I tried not to ask him too many questions about his past. I think he might open up once he feels more comfortable. He is guarded, but it does not surprise me.”

“I could talk to him,” Skye offers. “I mean, after I meet him and stuff. I can tell him my van stories.” She grins even though it’s not really funny.

“Understandable,” Jemma says, though she squeezes Skye’s hand surreptitiously. “I just meant, he’s likely, well, behind in his studies. I’d be happy to help catch him up once he’s enrolled.”

“Me too,” Trip offers. “I mean, I don’t know what he’d be studying, but y’know.”

“Thank you,” says Elena with a grateful smile. “I think he will be okay staying at my place for awhile too. I was thinking perhaps I could bring him over to meet you once you’re done with work?” She glances over at Mack.

“Sure.” Mack shrugs. “We weren’t gonna be doing anything tonight. I can get pizza, Hope’ll love it. Though I hope you told him she’ll ask him a million questions.” He laughs. “I’ve trained her out of the really embarrassing ones, but she just likes to know things.”

“Oh, I told him,” says Elena, grinning. “He seemed like he would be okay with it.”

“Ooh,” Bobbi says suddenly, “don’t push it but if you _can_ get names out of him for who was messing with him and who wasn’t stopping it at the shelter, we could always report them to at least Sergeant Clemons or someone.”

Elena nods. “I will see what I can do.”

Skye shakes her head. “Poor kid. It’s rough, especially when you’re that young. Let me know if I can do anything else, okay?”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Elena knocks on Mack’s apartment door. After a moment he opens it, smiling when he sees the two of them. “Hey,” he says, “Flint, right? Nice to meet you, I’m Mack.” He offers his hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Mack,” Flint says very politely.

With those brief introductions out of the way, Hope sees fit to run up beside her dad and wave. “Hi!” she chirps.

“You must be Hope,” Flint says, grinning.

“Yup!” Hope says. “Hi Flint. We’re glad to have you.” It sounds a little rehearsed, but in a cute way.

“Hey, Hope,” says Elena, kneeling down for a hug. “How are you?”

Hope hugs back in her fierce four-year-old way. “I got a hedgehog!” she exclaims.

“Oh really?” Elena glances at Mack.

Mack shrugs. “Talked her down from a kitten,” he stage-whispers.

“Her name is Professor Pixie and she’s really small,” Hope announces. “I can go get her if you wanna see?”

“I would love to see Professor Pixie,” Elena says, and she can’t help but smile at the animal’s silly name. “Your dad and Flint and I will go sit down in the living room, okay?”

Hope nods. “Be right back,” she says before dashing off.

“C’mon in,” Mack says, “like Elena says, we can sit down on the couch. Pizza should be here soon. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, Flint, so I just got a couple basics.”

“I’m good with whatever,” Flint promises. “Thanks for getting it.”

“Sure thing,” Mack replies. “So. Elena says you haven’t been to school in awhile.” His tone isn’t accusatory, just curious.

“Hasn’t really been a good option,” Flint shrugs. “I’m getting by.”

“Well, you should probably at least have a high school diploma,” Mack says gently. “You think you could do that?”

“I could,” Flint says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not totally dumb. Just haven’t had the time.”

Mack chuckles. “Wasn’t saying you were. Just, high school’s complicated. I’m not really looking forward to when this one starts school and needs help with her homework.” He nods at Hope, who’s entered the room holding a tiny albino hedgehog. “She’s already smarter than me.”

“I think you’re smart, Daddy,” Hope says assuredly.

“Thanks, honey,” Mack says. “You ready to show them Professor Pixie?”

Hope nods eagerly. “Here she is,” she announces seriously, holding the hedgehog out in her left hand (her right is wrapped gently over the hedgehog’s back). She very slowly walks over to let Elena and Flint inspect Professor Pixie. “She’s sort of shy, so let her smell you. And don’t try petting her face.”

Flint nods to Elena, letting her make the first attempt, and Elena reaches out a finger slowly to let the little hedgehog sniff at it. “Hi there,” she says softly.

“She’s not rolled up,” Hope says, “so you could pet her if you want. In the direction of her spines. Not quills, those for are porcupines.”

Elena does so, very gently, and smiles. “She feels funny. Like a hairbrush.”

Hope nods. “She’s kinda prickly,” she says, “but she’s very sweet. Do you want to pet her, Flint?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Flint says, blinking back surprise that he knows is totally unnecessary. He lets the hedgehog sniff his hand for a few seconds before very carefully petting her back. Hope just beams proudly.

“You’re doing a really good job with her,” Mack says to Hope. “She seems pretty happy.”

“I think she is,” Hope declares. “‘Cause she knows she’s safe and we love her.”

Elena beams. “I’m glad she is doing so well,” she says, glancing over at Flint.

“She is,” Hope says, completely unaware of what’s unspoken in the room. “She’d sit in your lap if you were calm, maybe. D’you wanna try?” She asks this of Flint specifically.

“Sure,” Flint murmurs, brushing his lap off (out of habit, mostly). “C’mere, Professor.”

Hope sets the hedgehog in Flint’s lap and then steps back to observe, trying to be serious about it but definitely grinning. “She might explore a little once she’s ready,” she says.

“Let’s let her get used to him,” suggests Mack. “You come sit on my lap, baby.” He adjusts so there’s room for Hope, and she trots over and snuggles up to him. “Now, Flint,” he says, “I was looking into some of the legal stuff and it seems like we can get you enrolled at the local high school pretty easily. They’ve got stuff set up for situations like...this.” He looks a little unsure of himself, suddenly.

Flint nods, also sheepish. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna be way behind, huh?”

“They should have someone to help you with that,” Mack says. “And maybe we can arrange for tutoring sessions for after school. I think we can get you up to speed pretty quick. You seem like a bright kid.”

“How can you tell?” Flint asks, kind of teasing.

“I just know,” Mack says, grinning. “Elena said you like building stuff too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Flint says. “I guess, anyway. I never really tried doing it just to have fun, but I usually have fun doing it.”

Mack nods. “Cool. I’ve got some welding equipment, maybe you’d like to take a hand at it sometime?”

“I could try,” Flint nods. “What’s it involve?”

“A steady hand, mostly,” says Mack with a chuckle. “It’s tricky, but you can get the hang of it. Then it’s pretty fun.”

“Cool,” Flint says. “You make anything cool?”

“I made a wine rack for someone for Christmas this year,” Mack says, pulling his phone out of his pocket to scroll through his pictures. “Here, I’ll show you.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Elena says, “I’ll get it.” Mack hands her cash for the pizza and a moment later she returns holding two boxes. “Plates?” she asks him.

“Cupboard to the right of the sink,” he says. “Thanks.”

“You’re busy,” she says with a wink. Hope’s made herself comfortable and clearly isn’t moving anytime soon.

“Can I have some chocolate milk?” Hope asks her dad sweetly.

“So demanding,” he teases her. “Making our guest get everything. That’s not very nice.”

“Sorry, Elena,” Hope choruses. “Please could I have some? There are boxes.”

“Of course,” says Elena. “Don’t pay attention to your daddy, he’s just playing with you.” She heads into the kitchen to grab plates and the requested milk.

“What kind of pizza do you want, Flint?” Mack asks. “There’s cheese and pepperoni. Basic, but I figured they were pretty safe.”

“Cheese, please!” Hope says.

“Is your name Flint?” Mack teases, running a hand through her hair. “I thought your name was Hope.”

“Sorry,” Hope says, giggling.

“I’ll go for pepperoni to start,” Flint says, trying not to laugh too much.

“Sounds good,” Mack says. Elena returns with plates and they both start dishing up pizza for everyone. “Before you eat, you should probably put Professor Pixie back in her cage and wash your hands,” he says to Hope.

“Yeah,” Hope says, sighing. She hops off of his lap and goes to pick up her hedgehog. “She likes you,” she tells Flint before heading off.

Flint can’t help but grin. “Glad the hedgehog approves of me,” he quips.

“I think her owner does too,” Elena says with a wink, handing him a plate with two slices on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE WILL SAVE ALL OF THE CHILDREN
> 
> ALL OF THEM


	184. you climbed the mountain, sent pictures of the view, and still can't believe when I started climbing too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val brings Sif and Melinda out to meet her horse.

“Thanks for humoring me,” Sif says as they drive toward Val’s house.

“Hm?” Melinda hasn’t said much the past half hour, but then, she’s been concentrating on the road. Val’s place is on the edge of town, apparently so she’s not too far from the stable where she boards Signy. It’s not exactly an area Melinda spends a lot of time in.

“The whole horse thing.” Sif shrugs. “I know it’s not really your thing. So thanks.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Melinda says, shooting her a smile. “It’s cute. You’re excited.”

Sif grins and ducks her head. “I am,” she admits. “When we were younger Val had Solveig, her mare, and I leased a black gelding called Björn. We used to ride all over the fields and trails around here.” She sighs. “I’ve missed it.”

“It’s nice that she’s still got one of them around,” Melinda says. “I can’t imagine it’s easy owning a horse.”

“No, but I’m not surprised she still does,” Sif says. “That horse was her best friend in the world. Björn was a good boy and I loved him, but we didn’t have the same bond Val and Solveig did. Val would’ve wanted to keep at least one of her foals, especially after she passed.”

“Makes sense.” Melinda nods. “I’m not getting on her.” Her tone’s kind of joking, but there’s a firmness to it all the same.

“Oh, I won’t ask you to,” Sif says with a laugh. “But I might.”

“I figured. It’ll give me a chance to talk with Val a bit.”

“What?” Sif raises an eyebrow teasingly. “You actually want to talk to someone?”

Melinda shrugs. “You like her, she must be alright. And she’s hot.”

That makes Sif laugh. “Glad you agree.”

They pull up to Val’s house, a small but well-kept one-story, and when they get out of the car Sif says, mock-sternly, “Don’t go having too much fun while I’m away, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Melinda says with a wink. “No more than making out, I promise.”

Val already has the door open as they’re heading up the walk, smirking. “Glad you came,” she says. “Or that you’re going to.”

Sif snorts. “That’s terrible,” she says with a grin. “Do you use that line on all the girls, or just the ones you know won’t walk out on you?”

“Mostly the latter,” Val shrugs. “I can’t be held accountable for how bad my pickup lines are when I’m sober.”

“Understandable,” Melinda says, smirking. “So where’s this horse we’re supposed to meet?”

“The stable’s about a five-minute drive from here, unless you wanted to do anything else before we go,” Val says.

“Oh, we’ll have time for other things later,” Sif says playfully.

They pile into Val’s truck (which is bright orange and not exactly in the best shape) and she starts driving toward the stable. “You been out to the old place in a while?” she asks Sif.

“God, no. Like I said, I hadn’t even been on a horse in years before I took Mel to the beach for a couple of days and we did one of those silly beach rides.” Sif shakes her head and grins. “The horse I ended up on seemed sort of baffled that it had a rider who actually knew what she was doing.”

“Meanwhile, I just hung on and hoped for the best,” quips Melinda.

“How is it, anyway?” Sif asks. “I miss it sometimes.”

“Good,” Val says. “About the most fun I can have without alcohol or sex toys.” She sounds glib about this, but Sif will know she means it sincerely. “There are a lot of kids hanging around, it seems like, so I wind up showing off for them sometimes.”

“You would,” Sif says fondly. “You ever think about teaching this, too?”

“Sometimes,” Val says, shrugging. “I might give it a go one of these days, but the barn’s pretty well-staffed and I wouldn’t want to stray. Wouldn’t be loyal of me.” She smirks.

Melinda snickers. “How admirable of you,” she teases.

They park and walk into the barn, which is quiet for a Sunday afternoon. “She’s down this way,” Val says, leading them toward Signy’s stall. She pulls a bag of baby carrots out of her purse and says, “Take a couple so you can bribe her to like you.”

“Of course,” Sif says, stepping up so the dappled grey mare can see her. She’s got her head out the stall door, ears pricked curiously. “Hey there,” she says, offering the baby carrots on her flat palm. “Pretty girl.” Signy eats them, seeming perfectly content to let Sif stroke along her neck.

“She’s definitely her mother’s daughter,” Val says. “Gorgeous and just as sweet as can be.”

“I don’t know much about horses, but I like her coloring,” says Melinda. “What kind is she again?”

“She’s a Warmblood cross,” Val says. “Basically it means somewhere back in her line, they bred one of the big draft breeds, the kind that work on farms, and one of the regular-sized racing breeds. Do that, and you get big horses that run and jump fast. Sig’s mom, my Solvieg, was a Trakehner and her dad was a Hanoverian. They’re just two different kinds of horses,” she adds, at Melinda’s blank expression.

“Sure,” Melinda replies with a shrug. “I’ll take your word for it.” She takes a couple of carrots and glances at Sif. “Flat palm?”

“Yes, and fingers together,” nods Sif. “Fingers are too carrot-like for them to know better.”

Melinda snorts and does as instructed, smiling a bit as Signy’s soft lips touch her palm as the mare eats the treat. “She’s nice,” she says, petting Signy’s mane. “I can see why Sif enjoys this.”

“If you have the right horse, they’re great,” Val says fondly, scratching Signy’s forehead. “Sig’s a little lazier than Solveig used to be, but she and I get on so well I don’t mind. I’ve known her literally since she was born and she’ll follow me around without a lead on. It’s not quite like having a dog or a cat, but she loves me all the same.”

Sif nods. “I’ve missed this,” she says, a bit wistfully. Signy takes the opportunity to nudge at Sif, hoping for more carrots, and leaves a trail of orange slobber on her jacket. “Well, not _that,_ ” she adds, laughing.

“You can give her one more, but then we should stop spoiling her,” Val says, offering the bag.

Sif does, and then glances at Val. “Would you mind if I took her out for a little while?” she asks hopefully.

“I’d trust you with her,” Val says, nodding. “I’ll take you to the tack room if you want to try.”

“Yes please,” Sif beams.

Melinda gives her a fond look. “Have fun,” she says. “I’ll stay here.” Signy turns her head slightly to look at Melinda, as if hoping for more carrots. “Oh, no,” Melinda says, petting her neck instead. “You’re cut off for today.”

Sif follows Val to the tack room (although she remembers exactly where it is). “Thank you,” she says. “I’ll take good care of her and I won’t be out long.”

“Oh, don’t think you’re going to get to take her out without us watching,” Val smirks.

Sif grins. “I think Mel had some ideas about that, actually. She seems to think she’s going to get to flirt with you while I’m distracted.”

“She’s a smart woman, she can multitask,” Val quips.

“True,” Sif says with a laugh. “So where’s your gear, then?” They’ve reached the tack room by this point.

“This shelf,” Val says, indicating it. “Feel free to adjust the stirrups as you need.” She smirks.

“Oh right,” teases Sif, “you’re short. I forgot.”

“Am not,” Val retorts. “You’re just a giant.”

“Both/and,” says Sif cheerfully, grabbing the saddle and resting it against one hip while her other hand grabs the bridle. “C’mon.”

 

* * *

 

“So, flirting, huh?” Val says cheerfully.

“Oh, she told you, hm?” Melinda asks. “I admit I had some ulterior motives to when I told her it didn’t bother me if she went riding.”

“Did you expect otherwise?” Val asks right back. “I don’t blame you, mind. I’m just wondering where you’re going to start.”

Melinda chuckles. “Dunno. Sif’s told me a little about you, but not that much, and we haven’t really talked just the two of us. When you’re not at work, here, or drinking, what do you like to do?”

“You assume I can’t do things _while_ drinking,” Val remarks.

“Fair point. What’s your poison?”

“Honestly, I’m not picky,” Val says. “I’d rather the hard stuff than, say, wine, but I don’t mind a decent beer.”

“Have you been to any bars around here since you’ve been back?” Melinda asks. “There are a few decent ones around.”

“I assume we’re not counting Applebee’s,” Val chuckles. “Honestly, I’ve been hanging out with you guys a lot of my nights off. Or enlightening Crystal on the finer points of the Disney catalog.”

“Sounds...fun,” Melinda says dryly. “She seems sweet, Disney’s just not my thing usually. _Mulan_ ’s fine, if you ignore all of the inaccuracies.”

“Honestly, it’s not mine either, despite the job,” Val says. “But that’s taught me which ones are decent, and the poor kid really needs the cultural education.”

“I can imagine. It’s nice of you. Although I know you’re not entirely doing it out of charity,” says Melinda playfully. “She’s cute.”

“Cute and also desperately in need of other forms of education,” Val says. “In my opinion, all ex-cult kids need someone to give them sex ed. I’m happy to provide.” She smirks.

Melinda smirks back and replies, “Hey, as long as it’s working for both of you. If you ever feel like going out, though, the Angry Unicorn’s the best queer bar in the area.”

Val snorts. “It sounds like it,” she says. “Big, small, beer, cocktails, what’s the vibe?”

“It’s a decent size. Not big enough to be annoying. There’s a dance floor, but it’s not too rowdy and there are tables away from everything. That’s why I like it.” Melinda smiles wryly. “I’m not much for dancing.”

“Now why do I get the feeling that’s only true sometimes?” Val teases.

Rolling her eyes, Melinda says, “I can be persuaded. Sometimes.”

“Sorry,” Val says, chuckling. “You’ve gotta let me know if I’m coming on too strong. It’s been known to happen.”

Melinda tosses her head. “Oh, you’re not,” she reassures her. “Honestly, I like it sometimes. Been awhile since I’ve been with someone who took that approach.” She laughs. “I’m sure you know that, you’ve known her longer than me, but Sif’s not exactly a smooth-talker.”

“But it’s so cute when she tries,” Val coos.

“Actually,” adds Melinda, eyes gleaming, “you probably have some great stories from high school, huh?”

“So many,” Val promises. “What genre are you looking for?”

“Well, she told me you could pretty much get anybody you wanted. How about her?”

“She did pretty well for herself,” Val shrugs. “I mean, you’ve seen her. She’s sort of hard to ignore.”

“It’s true,” Melinda says, her eyes wandering over to where Sif and Signy are taking one of the practice jumps set up in the arena. “Did you two ever go after the same person?”

“I’m gonna say no, and watch, she’ll remind me it happened,” Val says. “I don’t _think_ so, but the rosters got pretty long.”

Melinda grins. “I believe it. The way she tells it, you two and Thor basically ruled the school.”

“Well, none of us were exactly artists or intellectuals, those crowds was their own things,” Val says. “But we were definitely well-known. Well-liked too, at least in some ways.” She smirks.

“Sounds nice. I kept to myself in high school. I’m sure we wouldn’t have crossed paths back then.”

“Probably not,” Val admits, “but that would have been a damn shame.”

“For sure,” agrees Melinda. “Now tell me something embarrassing that happened back then,” she adds mischievously.

“Once when they were freshmen Thor dared her to ask a senior girl out over the intercom,” Val says, grinning. “During the middle of fourth period, no less. I believe the exact words were ‘you’re hot, wanna go out?’ Needless to say this didn’t do anything but get her detention.”

Melinda laughs, harder than she usually does when she’s with someone she doesn’t know very well. “Nothing about that surprises me.”

“She hadn’t quite worked up the ladykiller reputation yet, you see,” Val continues. “Being so young and having… well, less experience. But she can’t resist a dare.”

“She really can’t,” Melinda says fondly. “She won a keg stand at Tony Stark’s Halloween party a couple years ago, on a dare.”

“Really,” Val deadpans. “Tell me more.”

“Stark always has some stupid drinking game going on, and that year Thor and Drax and a few others started doing keg stands. Sif got in on it because someone, I forget who, dared her. Fandral maybe?” Melinda shrugs. “She seemed pretty proud of herself, anyway.”

“Have they got anyone to try Norse beer pong?” Val asks.

“Actually, yes. They did _that_ at another Stark party. He lost spectacularly,” adds Melinda. “He was only doing it because he got some crazy idea that he could sleep with some friends of mine if he won. Then when he lost, he challenged the five of them to a paintball rematch and the rest of us kind of got dragged into it.”

“Paintball?”

“Long story,” Melinda says, chuckling and shaking her head. “He wasn’t any good at paintball either.”

“Was anyone?” Val asks. “That could be fun if it was the case.”

“I wasn’t bad,” replies Melinda with a modest little shrug. “Sif was pretty good. Some of them were better than others. I wouldn’t mind going back again, not playing to prevent a rich playboy’s dream orgy. Or on behalf of, in Sif’s case.”

“Now I can’t see her condoning that,” Val says. “Not the tallest little feminist’s style.”

“Oh, she didn’t,” Melinda adds quickly. “Stark and Rogers - the guy he was trying to proposition - picked teams like it was gym class. She ended up on Stark’s side. It was okay,” she adds, eyes gleaming, “we basically treated it like foreplay and then left.”

This definitely gets Val’s attention. “That happen often?”

“Let’s just say that we can’t train together that often or we get distracted,” says Melinda, winking.

“What are your specialties?” Val asks.

“I’ve been told I’m good with my mouth,” Melinda replies. “And I like giving orders.”

“I meant how you train,” Val laughs, “but I’ll save that information for further use.”

“Oh,” says Melinda, smirking. “A couple different kinds of martial arts. Some light boxing-type stuff. Weights occasionally. You?”

“A little running, a little yoga, as much MMA as my knee will let me get away with,” Val explains. “Honestly anything my knee will let me get away with.”

Melinda nods. “Makes sense. Does it still give you trouble?”

“Not if I’m careful,” Val says. “But then, I hate being careful. I probably push myself too much sometimes.”

“I get that. I think we’re all like that. I know she is.” Melinda nods at Sif. “But then, so am I.”

“It can be fun when it doesn’t send you running for icepacks.” Val chuckles, although it’s not totally funny, and then focuses on Sif. “She’s still got it, I think.”

Looking proud, Melinda says, “She really does. I’m damn lucky.”

“Sap,” Val remarks wryly.

Once Sif and Signy seem to be done, Sif hops off and leads the mare back to where Melinda and Val are waiting. “That was wonderful,” she says, eyes shining. “Thank you.”

“Anytime you want to come out for a ride, you’re welcome,” Val says. “Glad you had a nice time.”

“I really did,” Sif says, patting Signy’s neck.

Melinda leans over for a quick kiss. “You looked good,” she says.

“Thanks,” Sif says, looking almost bashful. “And,” she adds, grinning, “it seems like you two are getting along?”

“Well, if it seems so,” Val smirks.

“Yep,” Melinda agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Signy](https://img.equinenow.com/slir/w1200/equine/data/photos/1110413_1.jpg%3F1476645692).


End file.
